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yujo-nishimura · 9 months ago

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Tsukuba

This is a short novella.

Warning: age gap, female character is 30, male character is 65, this story was originally written in German and I translated it for international readers. - Not proof-read.

This is for @pu-tse , I thought you would like this.

I wanted to leave his house and stood at the entrance. Shoes on my feet, I have already said my goodbyes. The terrible ikebana on the white table opposite seems to be mocking me. I used to like ikebana, but ever since I found out that a woman made it for him, I found it repulsive.

He was standing at the stairs, his gray hair shining in the afternoon sun light, wrinkles around his eyes. "You're leaving now." "Yes, I'm leaving now." He took my hand, placed it on his cheek, on his thin lips, and tenderly kissed the inside. As I took a deep breath, a shiver coursed through my body. "You're leaving now," he whispered into my hand, and his gray eyes looked directly into my soul. "Yes, I'm leaving now," I trembled a bit as I said it. He put his other arm around me, pulled me close to him, and placed my hand on his shoulder. My face was right in front of his. His gaze was still cold and piercing. I felt his lower body pressing against mine, my breasts pushing against his chest through our clothes. He leaned towards my ear and whispered, sending shivers through my body and making me tense up immediately. "You're leaving now?" It was a question. "Nnnh…" I couldn't answer. He looked at me again directly, and then he pressed his thin lips onto mine. I sighed into his mouth; he tasted as good as grape sugar and lavender. He held me tightly, but I also had my arms around his shoulders. It was no longer necessary to hold me, I would not leave anymore.

We paused the kiss briefly to catch our breath. I felt so warm and comfortable, yet simultaneously panic-stricken and aroused. Did I need to tell him that I wanted it too, or would he come to me and feel it himself? "I…" , my voice broke. "You wanted to leave," he let go of me, and I felt a terrible horror rising within me, an emptiness I had felt before, when he left me for the first time. He didn't move an inch away from me, and his gaze was still cold. He judged me. He despised me. I grabbed him between his legs and pulled him back towards me with my other hand. Now it was me who wouldn't let go. I kissed him, more breathless than before, and he immediately responded. I felt his breath quicken. "I want to leave. I've wanted to leave for three years!" I shrieked hysterically, interrupting the kiss, and pushed him backward. He was so surprised that he almost fell, and for a moment, his gaze returned to normal, human, fearful. He reached behind him to find support and knocked over the ikebana; it crashed loudly to the floor. With even more force, I kissed him now, pressing him against the ikebana display, undoing the first buttons of his shirt and tearing it open. He gasped in shock.

"I think of you, I dream of you, even though I destroyed all your photos, even though I'm not even searching for you – you still find me. You're there every time I lie alone in my bed, touching myself, you're there when I cry and moan. You're there when I'm drunk. Why are you still here? I left three years ago!" I had pressed myself against him but had stopped kissing him. I realized that I had gone too far, so I let go and stepped back. He breathed a sigh of relief, straightened himself up, futilely fiddled with his shirt. Water droplets fell slowly from the ikebana installation, dripping onto the white tiles.

"Do you still love me?" He asked it like a teacher asking a student a question.

"I don't know," I answered like that student.

"You want me."

"More than anyone else."

"You miss me."

"And I don't know why."

"Let's continue." But with a hint of hesitation. "I'm not that young anymore, you know."

He took my hand and asked me to follow him upstairs. Past the broken ikebana, he stepped carefully over it, and of course, I stepped right into it, my sock immediately getting wet, and I knew there was no more unpleasant feeling than this in the world. We slowly climbed the white staircase, without a handrail; they would have never approved that in Germany, I thought. A smooth, steep staircase leading straight up, with no chance of holding on, directly into his bedroom. Everything was darkened, satin sheets, a Western bed. That's how I remembered it, that's how it still looked. Not Japanese. Maybe he was too old to sleep on the floor.

He made no attempt to turn on the light as we both sat on his unyielding and hard bed, the perfect bed for the perfect fundamentalist, I thought.

"Why did you leave me?" he asked.

"But aren't we back together now?" I replied.

"I don't want to be together anymore." The words slipped out without thought, but they had to be true.

"You hurt me. You wounded me," he said.

"Because I called you a stubborn old fool? Was that enough to hurt you? I thought you were above such things," I retorted.

"I have the right to choose who I associate with and who I distance myself from. Your comment was hurtful. I needed space."

"I think you're afraid. I struck a nerve, and you were so wounded that you couldn't even admit it. You let me get too close, and then you regretted it. You saw in me the same inspiration that I sought in you. And then I had to hurt you. Your muse. Despite loving you so much, I couldn't bear it when you spread falsehoods."

He inhaled sharply at the mention of "falsehoods," but I didn't give him a chance to speak. He had blocked and ignored me for three years. Today, he had to listen.

"You spread something that can be hurtful and discriminatory to others. You shared something without thinking, something that excludes and disadvantages certain groups of people. You claim not to be someone who does such things, but you did it and refused to be educated. And it only got worse, even when I couldn't see it anymore. Messages of hate. Misinformation. Lies. Dangerous diets, false beliefs, and twisted worldviews."

He fell silent.

"I loved you. I wanted to protect you and the people around you from believing nonsense. That wasn't the H. I once knew. What you wrote back then was the opinion of an old, confused, and fearful man who desperately tried to make sense of the world to avoid accepting why those around him of the same age were dying."

I took a deep breath. My voice trembled because I felt that this was exactly what I had wanted to say for the past three years. This was my personal breaking point. I knew I wouldn't feel any better once it was finally said. It was despairing.

"You can't find truth with fear and uncertainty. You can only find it by being brave and embracing the unknown and the inexplainable."

In that moment, he began to cry. I had never seen him cry before. Always serious, always composed. I rarely saw him smile. Emotions seemed foreign to him, and now he seemed to collapse completely within himself, weeping bitterly. I thought of what the Icelandic author Halldor Laxness wrote in his novel "World Light": "No one who has ever heard an old man cry could ever forget it."

I remained still. Everything within me resisted the urge to comfort or appease him. He needed to cry. He needed to experience these emotions, and he had to do it all by himself. I had suffered for three years. He would only have to endure it for one evening.

#novella #short story #japan #love story #prose #original prose #creative writing #yujowriting #shortstories #writers on tumblr #writing as therapy #female writers #writerscommunity

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saphiraprince22 · 2 years ago

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Empty Bottles & Truthful Words

Author talks: I am so sorry for posting after a million years.

Summary: Azriel had decided to get drunk, and the following morning some truth surfaces.

Warning: Nothing much except for drunk Azriel.

Lots of love, Saph ❤

You and Azriel were best friends and as cliché as it was, you were in love with him and hoped that in some odd scenario, he would love you too. It was supposed to be a normal day, and frankly, it was, but little did you know that when you went to open the door after hearing someone knocking on it, it would turn out to be the best day of your life.

You have known Azriel for nearly 3 centuries and never had you seen him this drunk, and you could most definitely feel the drunken haziness through the mate bond, that you decided to perpetually ignore knowing that the bat-boys would have most probably gone to Rita's to enjoy the weekend.

Yes, Azriel was your mate and he was blissfully unaware of it. The bond clicked a little over 6 months ago when you two were sharing a quiet and peaceful moment at the library and you trying to watch Azriel discreetly when the mate bond clicked and you had to leave the room rather quickly so that he wouldn't have any suspicion, only to be cornered by Rhysand who seemed rather cocky about the same. Now everybody other than Azriel knew about your mate bond.

You made them all swear that they wouldn't say anything as you waited for Azriel to feel the same.

You snapped out of the memories when Azriel let out an excited exclamation of your name which definitely tipped you in about his drunken state.

He quickly left Cassian's side and stumbled towards you and if you hadn't steadied him he would have most definitely fallen down.

Azriel nuzzled your neck and kept mumbling something neither you nor Cassian was able to understand, "I have got it from here, Cass, thank you for getting him here."

You could see that Cassian was worried he left bidding you good night and told you to call him if his brother got a little too much for you to handle, he finally relented and left when you gave him an exasperated look as if you couldn't handle your Illyrian baby.

"Az, come on, let's get you to bed," you mumbled as you tried to get Azriel to your bedroom. "Won't you take me out on a date first ?" he giggled, you would have flushed red if it was any other time, but you merely rolled your eyes as you were too busy to make sure you both did not stumble on your way.

You had successfully managed to seat him on your bed and made your way to your bathroom so that you could find the anti-hangover portion that Azriel had stored for you and ironically he would be the one to use it.

"Y/N, I feel the wind in my hair, do you feel it too?" You huffed out a laugh as you imagined how embarrassed he would be when you would happily remind him about this tomorrow. "Sure, Az, before that why don't you drink some water."

You walked closer to the bed as you tried to coax your mate to drink some water and brush his teeth before you could make him drink the potion, hoping that he wouldn't have a horrible headache tomorrow.

After the herculean task of getting him ready for bed, you had somehow made him drink the portion and you were exhausted, you wondered how he had managed to take care of you when you were drunk and promised to never drink your mind off again.

You wondered what prompted him to get drunk like this and hopefully, you could talk to him tomorrow.

"Do you know why I decided to get drunk today?" You were going to ask why before which he continued, "Because I realized that I love her and that she would never love me."

You had to admit that it hurt, you knew that you had no claim over him but to know that he had gotten this drunk so that he could forget about whoever he was in love with, hurt like hell but you suppressed it.

"Whoever she is Az, she would be lucky to have someone like you love her." "Then why don't you" You snapped your head up to look at him and regretted it immediately as you had never seen the vulnerability reflected in his beautiful hazel eyes. You so desperately wanted to believe his, but you knew he was drunk and you would never take advantage of him like that, and somehow managed to break eye contact.

"It's the alcohol talking Az, you won't remember any of this tomorrow-" "But I will" he insisted, you relented and replied, "Then you can ask me out tomorrow when you are sober, alright." "Will you say yes?" he asked in the most vulnerable tone you had ever heard from the shadow singer. "Without a question" you assured and prayed to the cauldron that he would remember this tomorrow.

Azriel opened his eyes only to close them while cursing at the sun, he was about to turn away when a shadow protected his eyes from the harsh sunlight, he was about to fall back asleep when a soft voice stirred him awake, "Wake up, Azriel" it muttered and he immediately knew where he was and who was taking to him. He grumbled as he had a tremendous headache and was too lazy to wake up.

His best friend, Y/N was giggling as she sluggishly shifted preparing to get up, he quickly grabbed her arm, "Don't go" he murmured wanting to do nothing but sleep.

"Gosh you are an Illyrian baby, aren't you." if it was anyone else Azriel would have scowled, but with her he just couldn't help but laugh along.

She stopped laughing and turned to him, "How do you feel, Az?" she asked and he could see it in her eyes how concerned she was. "I am as healthy as a horse, I wonder who I have to thank for that."

"That would be me and while you are at it make sure you thank Cassian, he was the one who brought your drunk ass to me."

Azriel scoffed as he could already see Cassian make fun of him. "Now why don't you freshen up while I whip up something for the two of us."

Azriel groaned feeling too lazy to get up, he knew that he would eventually have to get back to his duties of being the Spymaster, he could only ever fully relax with his best friend. He avoided mentioning last night's confession thinking that you probably loved him as your best friend.

He got up and went to the wardrobe and saw that you had given his clothes a separate section amongst all your clothes. When he had first seen it he had made fun of you, it assured him that he would always have a place at your house and that melted his heart.

He had finally showered and refreshed, even his shadows were looking more lively, compared to their sluggish movements a little while ago.

He silently made his way to the kitchen to see you make his favorite pancakes. He just stood there leaning against the wall wondering what it would be like to wake up with you, how it would feel when you too would take turns cooking for each other in the morning and during weekends both of you would cook together dancing in the kitchen.

He knew how relaxed you were, he almost felt it, Azriel was confused, his shadow half of which that were playing around you and the other half was swirling around him, that is when he realized that not only did he know you were relaxed and happy, he felt it too. There was a pulsing in his heart, he could feel both of your heartbeats syncing and saw the golden string connecting you to him. His shadows were also swirling around him faster as they whispered the one word he waited to hear, Mate.

You were his mate.

You slowly started rubbing your chest, and he sensed that his confusing emotions were not received with the surprising reaction that he expected, it was almost as if you knew, that was when it clicked, why you had run way months before and almost avoided him for days, and when you finally returned, you never did explain why you had left so abruptly. He understood that you knew, and that was why you disappeared.

He slowly tugged at the bond, you suddenly stilled and this time Azriel tugged at the bond harder and quickly turned around. "Az" you breathed out and that was the only confirmation he needed, "You are my mate," he whispered as he quickly embraced you.

"Are you ok with that?" you whispered softly, you had no idea why you were talking in such a low and sweet voice, it just felt like it was called for.

"With what?" Azriel questioned, he should have been the one asking that question, you should be disgusted for being mated with an Illyrian bastard like himself.

You could feel the insecurity flowing off of him, but instead of replying, you just chose to pour the love you felt for him through the bond as you no longer had to shield or hide your feelings for your mate.

He shuddered at the feeling, when he finally gathered his bearings, he reciprocated the feeling and you both sighed in relief as you had finally found each other. That was when you realized that he wanted you to.

"I want you Azriel, I waited for you to feel the bond too, so I could finally say that I love you."

"I love you too" Azriel muttered as his eyes lined with unshed tears.

You quickly kissed him wondering how starved you were for his affection and Azriel reciprocated it just as eagerly as you softly kissed each other, it was a promise of love and intimacy that you would never lose again. You pulled away and he rested his forehead atop of yours as you both smiled at each other.

This time he was the one that kissed you and it was hot and passionate as he kissed you as if you were water and he was a parched traveler who traveled through the desert to quench his thirst.

As much as you hated it you pulled back and licked your lips, "Let's complete the mating bond first."

Azriel's eyes immediately brightened at that as you dragged both of you to the table as you quickly piled the pancakes he pulled out the plates, and neither of you stumbled as it was a practiced dance.

As you both ate the food, you could feel the bond strengthening, Azriel's eyes were trained on you as you slowly ate your breakfast. You had to wait for 6 months for him to feel the bond, it was only fair that he waited too.

And as soon as you finished, Azriel picked you up to take you to your bedroom, as you laughed heartily, you could only imagine how protective [possessive ;) ] he was going to be.

"We should the others know that they wouldn't be seeing us for the next few days."

"We can do that later, I have more important things to do with you." Azriel purred into your ears and you feel your stomach laden with excitement.

"Well, it's a good thing that you decided to get drunk,"

"It is definitely worth it now." You both laughed at that.

As you reached your bedroom, Azriel muttered, " I intend to treat you like a queen." " As you should shadowsinger."

Taglist:

@aroseinvelaris

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #azris fanfiction #acotar fic

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johnsamericano · 4 years ago

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 16:

ℓєє נєиσ

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @whathamelon @mrcarbonatedmilk @curieouscapt @unknown5tar @gjheaaa @ajhdr @silent-potato

warnings: oral (male receiving), jealous Jeno, mentions of drunk sex, Jeno in those tight pants skaters wear 😭

“Watcha looking at?”

Jeno jolted, his eyes abandoning the pair of skaters practicing in the ice-rink. Just as he stopped watching, he heard a loud thud. You were laying down on your back, your partner sprinting towards your giggly figure.

“Are you alright?” He helped you up, his hand holding your waist naturally. “Stop laughing, you could’ve gotten yourself hurt.”

“I’ve fallen so many times that it doesn’t even hurt anymore, Jaems.” Jeno’s blood boiled at the name. You wouldn’t even call him by his name, while your partner had the privilege of having his very own nickname. “Let’s practice the death spiral.”

Jeno’s partner looked at him with curiosity, she’d never seen that look in his face before.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on switching partners.” Jeno shook his head, tearing his gaze off You to finish tying his skates.

“Never, I was just studying our competition.” Right after finishing his task, he extended his hand towards his friend. “We need to practice hard, we’re only a few days away from the competition.”

You didn’t even spare him a glance as they entered the rink, too focused on finding the perfect way to hold Jaemin’s hand.

“Okay, we’ve got this.” You high fived him, getting in position to start your routine all over again. “Hey, Lee! Quit staring at us.” Apparently, you had taken notice of his gaze.

“I wasn’t!” The slight blush in his cheeks said otherwise. “Ignore them, Irene.”

As much as Jeno considered training with you in the same rink a blessing, you seemed to despise him. Maybe it was because of that time he called you untalented when he was a teen, or maybe it was because of that time he left the morning after having drunk sex with you, but who knows.

Nationals were held a couple of days later. Thankfully, you didn’t have to travel anywhere this year.

You cheerfully greeted all of the people you’d met during the past competitions, wishing them luck as Jaemin called you out to get ready.

You dressed in the beautiful black dress with small diamonds around your sleeves, Jaemin wearing a matching outfit, the tight shirt making his chest and shoulders look broader. You were both provided with a thick coat to cover you from the ice rink’s cold.

“You ready?” You went out of the dressing rooms, holding his hand tightly.

“We’re gonna do amazing.”

As you waited for another pair to finish their routine, a handsome Lee Jeno approached you.

“Ready to lose?” You scoffed, looking at him in disbelief. “What? There’s no way you’re gonna win against us.”

“May I remind you who won a golden medal last year?” Now it was his turn to scoff, both of your partners looking at the scene unfolding with curiosity.

“Wanna bet?” His face inched closer to your own, breath fanning against your slightly flushed cheeks.

“Deal. If I win, you’ll have to treat me and Jaems dinner.” That damn nickname again.

“Fine, but if I win, you’ll call me Jeno from now on.” It wasn't the deal he'd originally thought of, but the sudden mention of your partner made his blood boil with resentment.

You stared at him, squinting your eyes.

“Fine.” You finally replied as your name was being called through the speakers. “Break a leg.”

You threw your coat at him before entering the ice with Jaemin holding your hand, the crowd cheering loudly for the country's favorite pair. You skated around, warming up your legs as you waited for your music to get started. You stopped at the middle of the rink, placing your hand behind the nape of Jaemin’s neck to start your routine.

The melancholic sound of violins filled the place, your legs moving backward as you started your well-practiced routine.

Jeno watched everything from outside as Jaemin lifted you between his arms, holding your waist tightly as you looked at each other with passion, almost as if thousands of people weren't surrounding you, as if you were the only ones in the room.

Jaemin threw you in the air, your body rotating a few times before you landed in his arms again.

Your routine was filled with emotions, each movement expertly performed, the crowd bursting into cheers as the end of your song approached. You both nailed a triple axel, perfectly synchronized. Jaemin grabbed a hold of your hand, your back slowly bending as he spun your body around, forming the infamous death spiral. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as Jaemin carried you once again, arm between your thighs as he gave a final spin to end your performance. You smiled at each other, proud of your nearly excellent performance.

You skated out of the rink, grabbing a few flowers the crowd had thrown at you. Your trainers waited for you, seating in a bench where you'd receive your final score.

Jeno’s piercing gaze could easily be disguised as a normal competitor's jealousy, but deep down, he knew that wasn't it. He wanted to be the one by your side, he wanted to hold your hand just like Jaemin did. He wanted you to smile at him the way you did with your partner.

As expected, Jeno lost the bet. He was frustrated, to say the least, not only because he didn't get the highest score, but because every single reporter that interviewed the golden medal winners would ask about their relationship.

‘They’re not together.’ Jeno wanted to tell them, but he knew you could handle the situation yourself, telling the reporters you were only friends.

“Just ask her out already.” Irene sat down on a bench beside him, the silver medal hanging from her neck.

“What?”

“Jeno, everyone knows you're head over heels for her. You're not exactly discreet.”

“I really don't want to think about that now.” Irene hummed, staring at Jeno while he closed his eyes, attempting to ease his turbulent mind.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of steps coming his way that he opened them again, his orbs going wide at the sight of you.

“You did amazing today.” Well, that was unexpected.

“Are you mocking me?”

“What? No!” You were suddenly regretted trying to lift his spirits. “Your routine was amazing, Jeno.”

You called him by his name. A small laugh couldn't be helped as his face turned bright red.

“Come, I have a consolation prize for you.” You extended your hand his way, your pretty fingers making a ‘come here’ motion.

“Why are you suddenly being nice to me?” He hesitantly took your hand, letting you drag him all the way to the dressing rooms, away from the curious eyes of reporters.

You didn't answer his question, instead, locking the door behind you. He gave you a puzzled look, his thick eyebrows joining in a small frown.

“I heard you talking to Irene.” You shyly confessed, playing with the hem of your black skirt. “How old are you? 10? Why didn't you just tell me instead of acting like an ass?”

“Okay, first, I acted like an ass once, and I was twelve, what were you even expecting?” He took a step closer to you, hands almost over your waist. “And second, I thought you hated me, why would I confess to someone who clearly doesn't like me?”

“Why would you assume I hate you?”

“You don't?”

“I mean, I don't even know you that well. We've trained together for years but we've barely spoken, except for that time we slept together after drinking.” The distance between your bodies was now null, chests pressing against each other. “But I would've definitely accepted if you’d asked me out. I kinda like that bad boy vibe you give.”

A smile creeped up his lips, hands settling right above the curve of your ass.

“You said you had a consolation prize for me.” You cocked an eyebrow, noticing how the atmosphere had changed in less than a second.

“Oh, really?” Your hands teased the back of his thighs, slightly tugging at the flexible material of his pants.

“Lately I’ve been having trouble remembering that night we shared a year ago, mind helping me freshen up my memory?”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t left the morning after, you wouldn’t have to be reminded, cause it would be a daily thing.” There was a pinch of resentment in your voice as you pulled his pants down, sinking into your knees to caress his growing bulge.

“Don’t tease.” He warned, grabbing a hold of your hair and slightly pulling it back. “I was scared...” he resumed your previous conversation. “Irene and I don’t have the best chemistry, unlike you and that friend of yours, so I feared not being able to skate with her anymore, I didn’t want to lose that small spark that makes us worthy of a medal, even if it’s just silver.”

“But still, you didn’t have to leave me hungover and confused in a hotel room. That was mean.” Jeno chuckled, breath hitching as you pulled out his length from the black boxers.

“I promise to make it up to you...shit.” He groaned as you flattened your tongue against his tip, the pressure driving him insane.

“You better.” You fitted as much as you could inside your mouth, massaging the rest of it with your hands as you bobbed your head.

Jeno could feel himself growing harder inside your wet cavern, length twitching at the feeling of your tongue swirling around it.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Slowly, his hips started moving back and forth, matching the pace of your head which was now controlled by his hand. “That’s it, I’m close.” His low grunts and moans had your core aching, clenching around nothing in an attempt to relive it. “Just a couple more hours and I’ll take you back to my apartment. I can’t wait to have that pretty cunt around me.” You whimpered, sending vibrations down his cock and causing his cum to spill inside your mouth. The salty liquid painted the back of your throat, involuntarily making you swallow it. “Come on, the reporters must be waiting for you.” With both hands below your elbows, he helped you up, pulling his pants back up before leaving the room with you following closely.

“There You are!” Jaemin spotted you, Jeno immediately running away to avoid rising any suspicions. “What were you doing in that dressing room with our enemy?” He dramatically gasped. “Am I being replaced? Hold me, I might faint.”

“Stop it, you drama queen. We were just...talking.”

“Mhm.” He grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers and shooting a glance at Jeno. His deep frown made Jaemin smile. “Oh, and y/n?” You looked at him. “Wipe that drool off your chin, darling.”

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

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pulling punches

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

the night’s not over yet. a bonus scene from the nightclub at the end of chapter 7.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T) / parry (E)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @dakotawinchester ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes ; @levineseth ; @gryffindordaughterofathena ; @thefirstcourtesan

~2.7k words | T

she’s had what would probably be considered to be too many drinks.

but it’s not her fault; alexei and henri keep pushing cocktails into her hands, and there’s shots with tatum and champagne with dionne and before she even realizes it, the room is spinning around her.

a warm hand clasps her bare shoulder, steadying her where she’s swaying out-of-time with the music. kennedy turns her head and sees blaine, standing comfortingly close. her face splits into an easy smile as she realizes she’s relieved to see him. slowly, he smiles back.

his fingers slip beneath the threadbare strap of her dress and rub soothingly at her skin. “hey. let’s get you some air, yeah?”

they slip out the back door again, just as they had a few hours before, when blaine had kissed her in that way that was an infuriating mix of toe-curling and heart-stopping, sweet and exciting all at once. her lips are still tingling when the cool air of the night hits her face again.

“i’m kinda drunk,” she says unnecessarily, leaning back against the brick wall of the building.

blaine grins at her. “i know. you looked like you needed a breather.”

“if you’re gonna be sweet with me every time we come out here, we should probably make these check-ins hourly,” she returns, shifting her hips back and forth so her skirt swishes around the tops of her thighs. she smiles cheekily at him.

he shakes his head, still looking amused. “if that’s what you want.”

her smile widens. “you like me,” she reminds him, again, unnecessarily. blaine rolls his eyes at her.

“you already knew that.”

“yeah, but i didn’t think you would say it,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself with a slight shiver, now that the cold has turned from refreshing to bothersome. “’specially after you tried to ghost me.”

“oh my god, i wasn’t trying to ghost you,” blaine sighs, “i just didn’t want to drag you into my mess. it was stupid.”

“well -- i could’ve helped you,” she insists stubbornly, “instead of just, like, working on our project by myself, wondering what i did wrong.”

blaine’s eyes soften in the darkness of the alley behind the building. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“i know that now,” kennedy says, “but it still felt shitty. i don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell me it was something minor. i could’ve helped you with the hospital visit.”

“you did help me with the hospital visit,” he reminds her, “you totally saved my ass. it’s the only reason i didn’t get expelled.”

“but if you’d said something sooner i could’ve done more,” she stresses, “you didn’t have to completely ignore me for a week.”

“jesus, kennedy,” blaine groans, then, the expression on his face twisting into one of exasperation, “will you give it a rest? it’s not your job to fix everything. you’re not my girlfriend, or my mom.”

she stills, blinking at him in surprise. her stomach rolls with something nauseating that has nothing to do with the amount of drinks she’s had, an unpleasant chill that’s independent of the breeze outside coursing through her. “okay,” kennedy says quietly, taking a jerky step back towards the club door, “bye.”

“wait,” he sighs, “fuck, that’s not what i meant. hey, hold on a second.”

blaine’s arm swings out to stop her, his hand closing gently around her wrist. it’s just as well; she hadn’t been moving that quickly to go back inside, anyway, the thought of facing tatum and his i told you so look just as miserable a prospect as the argument she’s trapped in now with blaine.

still, she shakes her wrist out of his grip. blaine drops his hands immediately, holding them up in a peace offering. “okay -- that was wrong of me to say. i didn’t mean that, i’m sorry. i fucked up keeping you out of the loop, i know that. but jacob was up my ass and the rest of my team was constantly around and i felt like i didn’t have a minute to breathe, last week, let alone bother you with this.”

“well, that’s what i’m trying to tell you,” she huffs, folding her arms under her chest defensively, “you wouldn’t be bothering me. i was worried about you.” there’s a pause, and then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “asshole.”

blaine smirks at her, looking a little more like himself when he does. she’s still kind of annoyed with him, but she’s proud of herself for accomplishing that, too. “that’s fair,” he murmurs, “i deserve that. i know i wasn’t fair to you, especially after...” he grins at her crookedly, rubbing his jaw. despite what he so obviously wants to say, blaine only shrugs and finishes, “...everything.”

kennedy’s quiet for a moment as she considers what he’s said. “it’s just that -- i like you, too,” she admits, only now realizing she hadn’t had a chance to say so earlier. “but lately it feels like you don’t want me to.”

he shakes his head. “that’s not it,” blaine insists, averting his eyes. his cheeks puff as he blows out a breath, slowly, a cloud of fog from the cold momentarily obscuring his expression. “i guess i’m just... not used to having someone who actually wants to help around. sometimes i --” he cuts off abruptly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “forget it. you’re trashed, we can talk tomorrow.”

“no, what? say it,” she pushes, not knowing, like always, when she should quit.

blaine shrugs. his broad shoulders move with an easy grace, slumped in his boxy jacket. “you think i’m the one who’s hot and cold,” he starts slowly, not looking at her. she stares at him until his gaze slides from the street behind her back to her face. “but it’s hard to know where you stand, most of the time. you care so much about what other people think.”

it’s a fair assessment, and it stings because of that; blaine’s absolutely right. she cares far too much about what other people think. it’s debilitating. and it’s certainly stopped her, on more than one occasion, from enjoying getting to know blaine -- from doing something she wants to do because she’s too worried about how it might look.

“i’m under a lot of pressure,” kennedy admits shakily, unsure why she’s suddenly so upset. blaine knows that. he’s told her so in those exact words, just tonight -- before she had so many drinks the room started to grow blurry, he’d practically smacked her in the face with the most accurate assessment of her neurotic personality she’s ever heard. i know what a person under pressure looks like. “my mom -- i’m not like you, okay? i know it’s easy for you to ignore stuff like that, but it’s not easy for me. i don’t want to disappoint her.”

blaine’s expression cycles through a few moods quickly. there’s what seems, to her, like a desire to argue further, then restraint, then another look of exasperation before he finally sighs and shrugs out of his jacket, holding it out to her with a shake of his head. “here. you’re shivering. and -- don’t do that. i didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“i’m not upset,” she sniffs, but takes the garment from his hands and slips into it quietly, anyway, slouching down into the worn denim collar. blaine’s jacket is warm and smells clean, like the soap she’d used in his shower when she’d stayed over after the polo match. “and i didn’t mean to make tonight weird. it was fun, earlier. dancing with you.”

his lips quirk upwards at the corners, the soft half-smile he’s wearing out of place on his smug, handsome face. part of her had been convinced that the genuine look of affection he’d given her inside the club was a trick of the flashing lights, but out here, there’s no denying how blaine’s looking at her.

and it’s impossible to hide just how much she enjoys it.

“i had fun, too,” he says, taking a careful step closer to her. his eyes linger on the lines of his jacket, which hangs oversized on her frame, draping down to her thighs. when she tilts her chin up to look him in the eyes, their slight size difference suddenly feels more pronounced and impossible to ignore, in the best way ever. if he stops looking at her the way he is, she’s probably going to die. “you should get home, though. it’s late.”

it’s at least three o’clock in the morning -- she knows that. still... “i don’t wanna go home alone.”

blaine laughs, the quiet chuckle rumbling into the scant space between them. his hands reach out and land on her arms gently, rubbing slowly up and down her biceps -- under the guise of trying to warm her up or something else, she’s not sure, tilting into the touch encouragingly nonetheless. “don’t start.”

“or what?” she challenges, emboldened by his half-lidded gaze and the inviting slant to his mouth. a shiver trips down her spine as she easily recalls how he’d held her, earlier, lips pressed to her throat and hands wandering along her body.

“or else i’m gonna call that bodyguard of yours out here to take you home before i do something stupid,” he answers, and when she bites at her bottom lip in response to the weight of his promise, spoken lowly and seriously despite the grin still gracing his lips, blaine’s eyes drop to her own mouth and stay there.

the back door to the club bangs open abruptly, and their friends spill out into the alleyway, one after another, giggling and tripping over each other. dionne’s leading the pack, and she squeals when she sees kennedy, leaning forward to throw her arms around her. “there you are! you were gone forever.”

kennedy squeezes dionne back, still staring at blaine from beyond her friend’s shoulder. he’s the first to avert his eyes, looking away sheepishly as he pushes a hand through his already tousled hair.

“you found us,” kennedy says, voice forced-cheerful. she’s grateful blaine’s no where near her when everyone’s security teams follow them out of the club, trailing behind the group. tatum nods at her before they all start to walk together, back to the sidewalk that’ll take them towards campus.

back to the microscope, where her entire life will be on display for the press and the rest of the school. back to the place where she can’t even talk to blaine without getting an earful from her mother.

back to the persona she doesn’t even really like anymore, to the life that hardly feels like hers, most of the time, it’s so regimented and dictated and filled with things she doesn’t want until there’s hardly any room for her to squeeze in the few things that actually bring her any semblance of joy.

kennedy rushes ahead, tripping over her shoes, until she can catch up with blaine, her heart suddenly beating fast. he’s walking with peter, their heads bowed low together, though they stop talking abruptly as soon as she falls into step beside them, and with a quick flash of a smile in her direction, peter’s gone, slowing his pace until he’s beside dionne instead.

blaine bumps his shoulder against hers playfully as they walk side-by-side. “hey.”

she shoves him back, harder than she’d planned to. it’s still nothing, for someone like blaine, but he gives a teasing “oof!” for her ego anyway, tripping to the side before swaying back in close with a laugh.

just like that, she forgets there’s anyone else walking with them, in front or behind. their classmates and bodyguards evaporate like smoke, and it feels like she and blaine are alone in the street together, the only two people in the world.

he’s smiling at her again, eyes warm and fond. they glint in the starlight when he asks, “why are you looking at me like that?”

she shrugs. “’cause i had fun tonight, and it’s ’cause of you. ’cause i always have fun with you.”

“it’s almost like you’re secretly a cool person or something,” blaine muses, laughing loudly when she shoves him again, pushing him closer to toppling off of the curb. “okay, okay! fine, it’s not that much of a secret. to me.”

“thank you,” kennedy answers primly, momentarily turning her nose up into the air before she gives in to the urge to sneak a glance back at blaine, her face warming when she notes how he’s still looking at her.

he tilts in so their shoulders are pressed together, their steps suddenly in synch. in the dark, his hand bumps hers, obscured from anyone walking behind them with how close they are.

she knocks her hand back into his encouragingly.

ever-so-gently, his pinky finger curls around hers, hesitantly at first and then more deliberately, linking them together.

kennedy chews on the inside of her cheek, silently creeping her fingers closer over his. blaine’s palm turns over to give her more room, and in just two more steps, they’re holding hands properly, fingers interlocked.

his thumb runs over the back of her knuckles, and she looks away shyly, doing her best to completely disappear into blaine’s oversized jacket.

he’s the one to let go, as soon as they cross the quad to get back to the dorms. everyone’s quiet as the group moves through campus, clearly wary of being caught, so there’s nothing but the sound of their shoes in the grass when they all start to split up to head back to their own buildings.

eventually it’s impossible to dawdle any longer, and she turns away, convinced she’s not going to get the goodnight she’d been hoping for.

but just as she’s about to follow tatum and dionne into her building, blaine grabs her by the cuff of his jacket, sliding his fingers over her wrist inside the sleeve. “hey,” he says again, his voice low. “bring this back to me tomorrow?”

kennedy blinks, brain fuzzy from the late hour and the drinks she’s had, working overtime to try to mentally flick through her calendar. deep in the horizon beyond blaine’s head, the sun is starting to rise. “what’s tomorrow?”

his lips pull up into a smirk. “the day you’re gonna bring me back my jacket.”

she laughs despite herself, ducking her head on a smile. blaine reaches up and chucks her gently under the chin, tilting her face back up.

fuck, but she wants to kiss him. here -- in his room -- outside any random nightclub or carnival or school-sanctioned event -- anywhere. everywhere. in front of the world and no one at all.

“it’s my favorite one,” he continues, and she shakes her head as she’s pulled back to the present, where kissing blaine is still unacceptable unless there’s a closed door between them and the rest of society. “so don’t keep it and break my heart, okay?”

“okay,” she agrees, breathlessly, tipping her head out of his grip and brushing her lips against his fingers as she pulls away, shooting blaine one last look from beneath lowered lashes before finally forcing herself to turn back around, purposefully swaying her hips as she walks away.

dionne arches an eyebrow at her as they make their way back to their room, but otherwise doesn’t comment on the fact that she’s draped in utterly recognizable stiff denim, two sizes too big for her delicate frame.

she stays warm long after she’s pulled it off and slipped into her pajamas, thrilled by the thought of tomorrow and the excuse he’d effortlessly invented for them to see each other again, even though he didn’t believe in needing an excuse in the first place.

kennedy’s warmed just by the sight of it, draped over her desk chair when she slides into bed. her crisp sheets and orderly pillows and meticulously organized room’s a far cry from the chaos of blaine’s and the mess she’d experienced last week, but maybe that’s alright, she reasons, as her eyes blink shut and the room finally stops spinning around her.

maybe they can find a way to meet in the middle after all.

#blaine hayes #foreign affairs #choices foreign affairs #blaine hayes x mc #myfic #long post #what u guys have to understand is that i love blaine hayes

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drakenology · 3 years ago

Note

hi sweet wifey! i hope you had fun this weekend! i survived working 24 hours this weekend and only thought about strangling two of my coworkers lmao also bo misses you and sends kisses <3

storytime!

i got so wasted yesterday it was not even funny

like I was waddling around the casino like a drunk fool

my friend was like “hold hands with somebody, you’re drunk and you can tell”

and I was all like “but imm not druunk!”

whole time was visibly drunk.

also hold my earrings cause who do I have to beat up for you!? yall not gonna be stressin my wife out.

i hope you take today to relax and pls if you’re working again today don’t overdue it💗

#— you’ve got mail! 📨#— mutual : baby mama kate 🌟

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meandmypagancrew · 4 years ago

Text

Maybe What You Think Of Me Won’t Change

Did you guys know that in addition to being a gifmaker and a dollmaker, I’m also a writer? I know! I am a woman of many talents most mediocre and useless. Anyway, I wrote this little fic about Clark and Farrah from We Are The Tigers, so if you’re into that kind of thing, give it a read under the cut!

It wasn’t super uncommon for Farrah to suddenly come to and not know where she was or how she got there. So when, in her drunken haze, she had a sudden moment of clarity and found herself outside by a dumpster, she groaned. In the dim light from a streetlight, she took stock as she pushed one of her braids over her shoulder. Clothes? Still on. Phone? Not dead. Purse? There. There wasn’t any vomit or blood or anything. All in all, not the worst night she had ever had.

As she got on shaky feet, she tried to remember what had happened. Marissa had picked her up, and they went to a house party at Rich’s. She had a few flashes of the party, a red solo cup in her hand, Liz doing a keg stand, Kayla and Jason trying to subtly sneak upstairs- but then nothing. Fuck. There was no one around, so how was she supposed to get home? She pulled out her phone again and clicked the home button, being greeted by a picture of Tom Holland as Spiderman- her favorite celebrity crush- and the time 3:42. It was a Thursday, but still summer, so thank God she didn’t have to worry about being up for school.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. First she needed to get home. She unlocked her phone- her home screen was a picture of her and her mom when she was born, which caused her to squint, both because of the lighter color scheme being brighter and the memory of her mom- and clicked to her contacts. Family was strictly out of the question, Annleigh would kill her for waking her up, her stepmom hated her, and her dad wouldn’t be mad but he’d be so disappointed he would probably cry the entire way and making your dad cry is a soul crushing experience.

She sat back down as she scrolled through her contacts. Party friends. A guy who was her partner for a chem project last year. Former Captain Kimberly, future Captain Riley. A guy who was rumored to be a drug dealer, but was only her contact for buying alcohol. Her first try was Marissa- she got her into this, it seemed only natural she’d get her out, but it went straight to voice mail. She kept looking, her drunk mind trying to think. Her finger tapped on Bridget, a girl who had been a cheerleader at Giles Corey but transferred back to public school after her dad had been laid off. They weren’t close, but Bridget had shown her the ropes when she joined the team, and she was a night owl so she should still be awake.

Before the first ring even finished, her usual deadpan voice answered.

“What.” She said, and Farrah struggled to not sound as drunk as she was as she responded.

“Bridged?” Despite her best efforts, her speech was a little slurred. “Canyou comeaaand git mee?”

“Farrah, it’s almost four AM.” Her voice still had no inflection. Even when sober, it was very difficult to discern where Bridget was standing, and if you were getting anywhere with her. Drunk? It was pretty much impossible.

“Yeeeeaaaaaaah… but Imm stuuuuuuck.”

“No.” Was the response, unusually harsh for Bridget.

“Whaa…?” She asked, though she was pretty sure she heard her correctly. It just didn’t seem right. Bridget wouldn’t just abandon her like this, right? As she had so astutely noted it was almost 4 AM- she was the only person who would be awake.

“No. I’m not your babysitter, Farrah. You got yourself into this mess, take some goddamn responsibility for your actions.”

“Buuu… butMarissa took meee dribking-“

“Did Marissa force the alcohol down your throat?” Bridget asked, a little too abruptly and Farrah didn’t respond. She knew she was right, and Bridget knew from her silence she had hit the nail on her head. “You made a choice. You deal with the consequences.”

The line went dead. Bridget’s words were true, but how the hell was Farrah supposed to get out of this? Buses weren’t running this time of night, she didn’t even know where she was, let alone how to get home- she needed help.

As she resumed scrolling through her contacts, a very depressing thought hit her. She didn’t have anyone to call. She was the girl you call for a party, not the girl you depend on when you need help. She didn’t have a single true friend she could depend on right now. There were no clutch friends. To put it quite frankly, she was completely fucked.

As she settled in against the dumpster to wait for daybreak, hoping the sun would bring with it some ideas, a memory she didn’t know she had came to the forefront of her mind.

“I think she’s asleep.” A voice that must have been Annleigh’s said in her memory.

She was lying down, but her eyes were closed. From the lights that occasionally shone through her eyelids, the soft rumbling, and the feeling of movement, she must have been in the backseat of the car.

“Okay.” Came another voice, male- Clark. “I’ll carry her in when we get there.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Annleigh immediately replied, and Farrah could picture the heart eyes she was almost undoubtedly making. “You’ve already done so much, helping me come get her.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied. “I’m happy to help.”

“You must get tired of it.” Annleigh replied with a sigh. “I mean, she’s not even your family.”

“Well, first off, we are all sisters and brothers in the eyes of our Heavenly Father,” She could hear the smile in his voice, and a gentle sound of contact as if Annleigh had playfully hit his arm. When he spoke again, though, the smile was gone. “In all seriousness, though, your family is my family. I will always be there for Farrah, because I love her like a sister.”

The conversation turned to some boring bullshit about theology, so she had tuned it out. But her mind kept coming back to that promise. Did he mean it? Did he say it just because he thought it would win him brownie points? Either way, it was her last possible option, so she navigated to his contact and hit call.

After a few rings, his groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Clark?” She asked, and she could almost feel him snap awake.

“Farrah? What’s happening? Is Annleigh okay? Are you okay?”

“Iiii’m fiiiiine. I need a riiide.”

Clark exhaled, and she felt a little bad for waking him up. He was probably going to do thing Bridget had. This was a speculator waste of time for everyone.

“I’m…. I don’t knoooow…”

“Do you see any landmarks?” He asked, his voice patient even though she could hear him moving about, probably grabbing his keys and heading out.

“Let me… check…” She stumbled a little bit, struggling to hold the phone and climb to her feet. “Oof, okay…”

“Farrah, what’s going on?” He asked, and she waved it off before realizing he couldn’t see her as she meandered out of the alley to the street.

“Iiiit’s fiiine. You worry too much!”

She put a hand on the wall to steady her as she took stock of her surroundings. Sure enough, she was at a bar, but she didn’t recognize the name and found it highly unlikely Clark would either. Most of the storefronts were dark, and even the ones that weren’t, she felt like the words were spinning in front of her.

“What do you see?” He asked, and she scrunched up her face.

“Uhhh…” She stalled but then she saw it. She thought it was maybe the most beautiful building she had ever seen in her life, down at the end of the street. “There’s a castle…”

“A… castle?” He asked, confused.

“It’s all white. It’s so pretty. It has flowers.”

“An all white building?” He tried to clarify. “The hospital?”

“No… there’s a man on the building…” She had to squint, but sure enough.

“A man on a castle that’s white with flowers?” The skepticism in his voice was so evident that even in her state she could pick up on it and it annoyed her.

“He’s golden!” She insisted, just wanting him to believe her, that she wasn’t hallucinating.

“A golden man on- the Mormon temple?” He asked, which Farrah couldn’t say for sure, but it seemed like the best bet. “Farrah, are you at the Mormon temple?”

“Nooo… I’m in front of a bar down the street…”

“Okay. Okay. Hold on.” Clark said as Farrah leaned against the wall, already feeling a hangover starting to set in. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you hang on for five minutes?”

“Yeah…” She replied, closing her eyes against the light filtering through the bar’s windows.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Once he hung up, she pocketed her phone after making sure it was on vibration in case something happened. She had considered doing something on her phone while she waited, but even on the lowest setting, it seemed so bright it might burn her. Out of sheer boredom, she started to undo her braids. After all, even if she slept in them, she’d have to redo them tomorrow, because they’d be messy.

Just as she was relocating her second hair tie to her wrist, and shaking out the braid, the door to the bar opened, and a man walked out. Farrah didn’t notice him at first, busy combing her hair out, but he sure noticed her.

“Oh, hey, pretty girl.” He said and she looked up into eyes that looked at her like she was less of a person and more of a meal. Ugh. She had met so many predatory men like this, and she really wasn’t up to it right now. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“My ride is coming.” She said, both as an answer to the question and a way of informing him that there was someone who knew where she was supposed to be, so he better not try anything.

“I can take you wherever you need to go, baby.” He was almost purring, which was about as unsettling as being called baby by a stranger twice her age. “Especially if where you need to go is back to my place.”

That statement was punctuated with a wink, and she felt like she needed a shower.

“No, thank you.” She replied, trying to walk the line between being polite enough that he didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her, but not so polite that he thought she was into him and when she rejected him, didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her.

“Aw, come on, I can make you feel reeeeal good.”

He started to advance towards her and Farrah took a step back before she realized that would just back her into an alleyway, which was a dead end. She had no option but to stand her ground.

“I said no!” She almost yelled, and he grabbed her arm.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” She tried to struggle against his grip, but he tightened his grip, which only scared her more. He was so much more powerful than she was.

“Get off of me!” Now she was yelling, a hint of desperation in her voice and he grabbed her other arm as well, which she continued to try to resist, but he was too strong.

“I said don’t be-“

“Get away from her!” She heard a car door slamming and while she couldn’t see who it was, she recognized his voice. The dude’s attention was fractured by the interruption, and his grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Farrah took advantage of that to pry herself from his grasp, running straight at Clark, throwing her arms around him and clutching the back of his shirt as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut as she buried her face in his chest. He immediately wrapped one arm around her, holding her close.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He sneered, and the fear in Farrah’s heart didn’t subside much. What even could Clark do? This guy, he looked like he could be a stunt double for Thor. And Clark? Clark could be the stunt double for Captain America- pre-serum.

“I’m her BROTHER!” He said, his voice taking on a hint of fierceness that Farrah had never heard before, and somehow she knew that he was going to protect her, whatever it took. “And she clearly said no, not to mention the fact that she’s 15! Take one more step towards us and I’m calling the cops on you, you pervert!”

There was a very tense moment, a pregnant pause where Farrah could feel Clark’s heart pounding against her forehead. He talked a big game, but he was terrified. If he called their bluff? The two of them together couldn’t even come close to taking him on, especially in her state. But he must have moved away, because she felt Clark exhale.

“Whatever. She’s a fat bitch anyway.” His voice was moving away, but Clark continued to hold on for several moments. He put his other arm around her before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Oh, Farrah…”

She pulled away and looked up at him, furrowing her eyebrows at the soft murmur, confused about what he meant. Before she could ask, he pulled away even more to open the door of the car for her.

“Let’s get you home.”

She obediently climbed in, again running a hand through her hair as she checked in the mirror her reflection. Her makeup was a mess and she had definitely seen better days, but the wave in her hair was gorgeous. As Clark got into the car next to her and immediately locked the door, she expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. Even as he started the car and some sort of Christian rock- Switchfoot, maybe?- started filtering through his car speakers, a little distorted because the bass was ruined. If Farrah recalled correctly, that was because when Greatest Showman came out, Annleigh adored it so much that not only did she make Clark take her to go see it in the theatres at least six different times, it was the only thing she would listen to and she would play it whenever he drove her anywhere and was not afraid to blast it.

She expected a lecture, some kind of explosion, but instead he just stared straight ahead, clutching the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His silence was agonizing, and when she finally recognized their surroundings as he turned into their neighborhood, she braved speaking.

“Are you mad?”

“No.” He answered quickly. It wasn’t snapping at her, just a decisive statement.

“Are you sad?”

“No.” It was said the same way and she exhaled in frustration, feeling like she had to get to the bottom of this before he dropped her off, which would be soon despite the meandering streets of the neighborhood that made little sense- Clark was an expert and could navigate it like nobody’s business.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Are you annoyed?”

“No.”

“Are you disgusted?”

“Farrah, I’m worried.” He said as he pulled in front of the Victorian manor replica that she called her home.

She was surprised that he cared so much, and surprised at herself that she also felt defensive. As he unbuckled his seatbelt to turn and look at her, she crossed her arms.

“You’re only saying that because of Annleigh. You don’t care about me. Or at least you only care about me as Annleigh’s sister.”

“Farrah, look around.” He said, and she furrowed her eyebrows, turning to him. Look at what? The dark buses that lined the pathway up to the front door? The neighbors across the street who’s porch light was green instead of normal? The empty McDonalds bag at her feet? The little pop figures from whatever weeb shit he was into on the dashboard?

“Do you see Annleigh anywhere?” Her brows still furrowed, she shook her head. Of course Annleigh wasn’t here, she would be inside asleep, like the good little girl she was. “This isn’t an act for her. I’m not even planning on telling her this happened. I’m worried about you because I care about you. Not the Farrah who’s Annleigh’s sister, but the Farrah who’s an amazing flier, the Farrah who knows all the words to Princess Bride and watches it every year on her birthday, the Farrah who hasn’t taken ballet in four years but still sometimes twirls when she thinks no one is looking. I care about the Farrah who goes horseback riding and even if she’s in a skirt refuses to ride side-saddle. I care about the Farrah who hides books in her backpack because she loves to read but would hate for anyone to find out. I care about the Farrah who sits on her phone and pretends not to pay attention to whatever’s on TV but when her dad falls asleep during the middle of an episode and then when he wakes up and asks what he missed, always knows exactly what’s going on. I care about the Farrah who found an abandoned kitten in a rainstorm and took him home and took care of him until she could be rehomed despite the fact that she’s very allergic. I care about the Farrah that named that cat Aaron Purr. I care about that Farrah a whole lot more than I care about Annleigh’s sister.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Clark had only been actively in her life for about a year, since her dad got married, but in that time he had been paying attention. She had gone through the mortifying ordeal of being known by him and she didn’t even realize. But at the same time, even though those things were all true, they all seemed so far away. When was the last time she had danced? Finished a book? Gone horse riding at all? The person he described sounded like such a nice person, she wanted her back. When she realized that, she started to cry.

“Oh- oh, no, no, Farrah, please don’t cry-“ Clark started to panic, placing a hand on her back as she dropped her head into her hands as he continued to move around as if looking for something. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, I just think you’re an amazing young woman and if you keep getting into bad situations like you did tonight, I don’t know what’s going to happen-“

“Help me.” She managed to get out through her sobs, and he suddenly stilled.

“What?”

“Help me. Please.” Once she started, it seemed like she couldn’t stop, even though the plea had to be filtered through sobs and snot. “I know I’m in trouble, but I don’t know how to stop- I can’t stop. I know everyone hates me, even my friends, and I know that it’s gone too far, but I’m scared, Clark, I’m so scared-“

“Hey, hey, shhh…” His voice brought her to an immediate halt, bringing her back to earth. She looked up at him, and even with her smeared mascara, snotty nose, tear stained cheeks, and red, puffy eyes, he didn’t turn away. He didn’t recoil in disgust. He offered her some napkins from a fast food chain he must have found somewhere with an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to your parents with you about it. If you have to go to rehab, I’ll visit you there and write. A bunch of my friends have sisters about your age, I’ll introduce you to them and maybe you’ll really hit it off and find some better friends. It won’t be easy, but I promise you don’t have to do it alone. Just say when.”

She accepted his offering and transferred her makeup from her face to the little caricature of the Grecian from the Little Ceasers logo, thinking hard about it. Right now was not an option, even with the sun beginning to appear on the horizon, she didn’t want to wake anyone up. But she also knew if she waited too long, she would lose her nerve. She was already starting to waver as she pulled herself back together. Surely things weren’t that bad, right? She could handle it on her own. But Clark was still looking at her for an answer.

“The day after tomorrow.” She finally said, and he seemed a little confused about the random time, so she explained. “The cheer sleepover is tomorrow night. You’re picking Annleigh and I up in the morning. When you drop us off, my parents should be home.”

Understanding the timeline, he nodded. It would give him enough time to research how to be a support system for her, and it would give her enough time to figure out how to backtrack, and tell Clark she didn’t really mean it and she was actually fine. That decided, she sling her purse over her shoulder and opened the car door to get out.

“Farrah?” He asked as she put her foot on the sidewalk, and she turned a little to look at him.

“Hmm?”

The light in the interior turned on when she opened the door, so she could see him clearly for the first time all night. He looked tired, but still as charismatically cheerful as ever, the human equivalent of a golden retriever.

“Chin up, buttercup.”

He gave her shoulder a playful punch and she couldn’t help but smile back before fully getting out of the car. As she walked up to her door, she thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all. Maybe he could help her find the girl he saw again, and she could be better. As she opened the door she looked back. He was still waiting and gave a small wave. She waved back before taking a deep breath and stepping inside, hearing his car start up again and drive off as the door closed behind her.

#we are the tigers #we are the tigers fanfiction #not a gifset #but still #look what i made #go easy on me please this is my first time posting fanfiction in like over a decade #but i sent it to a few people and they all seemed to like it and encouraged me to post it #so it has been posted

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chibivesicle · 4 years ago

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Golden Kamuy chapters 251 and 252 - rumble in the brewhouse - continued

Chapter 252 starts off with Sugimoto in an even worse position as Nikaido screams and Koito attacks from the side with his saber. And Nikaido certainly has murder eyes.

The look of surprise by Sugimoto is one where he needs to stop thinking that all fights are one and one. He’s lucky that he ducks low enough that instead of Koito cutting him down with the saber, he cuts into a beer storage barrel and the beer squirts out hitting Koito square in the face. Nikaido fires and Asirpa jumps in front of him to be a shield from Nikaido. Oh Asirpa, you can’t use your status as the key to the gold forever. Plus, Nikaido’s not the type of character to care that she’s an ‘innocent’. I think Asirpa may have gotten ahead of herself thinking that she alone can use her status to be untouchable.

Of course Sugimoto has done a 180 from a few chapters ago. He was ordering Asirpa to stand in the shadows so that Ogata couldn’t target and kill her, but if she’ll take a bullet for him, it is okay. Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhh. Granted, Asirpa has the level of screentones that Hijikata can produce, but her innocence will fail at some point.

Poor Tsukishima has to stop Nikaido. Really, did anyone not realize that Kikuta, Tsukishima and Koito really are an ineffective small group with Nikaido being unstable and Usami being unpredictable. Koito takes this chance to attack Sugimoto again and even prevents him from aiming as Sugimoto fires his gun off to the side. Unfortunately, Koito isn’t great at hand to hand combat nor does he have the full amount of anger/tenacity that Sugimoto has so he’s able to tackle him and headbutt Koito.

Meanwhile, poor Tsukishima is babysitting Nikaido while Asirpa just watches using her presence as leverage on Tsukishima. All of this action though is perfect as Kikuta hasn’t made his presence known. I’m a huge fan of Kikuta (or Roger as a few of us call him due to his resemblance to Roger Moore) and he’s put himself in the perfect position for his specialty, close range rapid fire attacks. Revolvers aimed and at ready we even get the view from the barrel of his gun, a clean shot at Sugimoto.

Ushiyama then looks towards something, perhaps Kikuta and we see movement lines indicating he’s doing something quickly. We get our answer as the next page shows him pushing the stacked beer barrels and he’s able to knock Kikuta over as his footing is lost with the shifting barrels.

This then leads to a small beer tsunami that catches most of our characters in the wave. Koito has recovered quickly hand has a hand on Sugimoto with his saber while Sugimoto’s bayonet is up as they both stare at the breaking barrels and the beer that is about to cover them. Asirpa is able to escape by climbing on the barrels but Nikaido and Tsukishima also get drenched.

Noda makes a full page dedicated to Koito and Sugimoto almost swimming in beer. Clearly, this is for comic relief in the middle of a tense situation, and I meanwhile can’t help but think about how sticky everyone is and having to wash out their uniforms is going to suck. Laundry needs to happen.

The beer tsunami wave carries the guys along and Shiraishi has to escape it as Tsukishima, Sugimoto and Nikaido all end up in a more mechanical looking room. Koito appears to be still in the storage room with the barrels.

Nikaido tries to fight Sugimoto but falls over and it appears that Tsukishima might be the least drunk as he manages to at least hit Sugimoto, and takes down his comment that he can take them because he’s ‘imm-’. Good job Tsukishima, show Sugimoto that he’s not the boss and they both get swept further away.

Meanwhile, Koito, the bon-bon that he is, is plastered as he makes one of his high pitched screams on the floor. I’d say despite being the largest, he’s the lightweight of the group. And we never have seen him drink in the manga so far. I wonder if Koito isn’t much of a drinker as we’ve only see him drink tea as far as I can recall off the top of my head. I think Koito is a dainty drinker.

While drunken chaos unfolds, Kikuta grabs Asirpa and verbally says he’s secured her. Is this to Tsukishima and Koito? Ariko? Himself because he’s that damn good?

Asirpa won’t go down with out a fight and she manages to get one of her poison tip arrows in his nose to bring him to a rapid halt. Of course this entire exchange does not happen alone as Ogata is looking at them with the binoculars from the fire watchtower. He seems quite interested and he even pulls the binoculars away as if he’s thinking about something. The panel then shows Asirpa pointing her bow and arrow at Kikuta in a very non-threatening pose, his hands down and empty.

This makes the fifth time that Asirpa has drawn her bow at a human, as the fourth time was when she shot Ogata in the eye. I wonder if Ogata is having some sort of out of body experience watching Kikuta try to reason with Asirpa. If only he had the public speaking skills of someone like Kikuta - since he was clearly upset when he couldn’t lie to Asirpa like the rest of the adults can. And it goes back to the fact that he lacks something and stuff doesn’t go well for him etc. etc.

This shows in Kikuta’s confident and relaxed body language. He tries to get her on his side by asking about what happened with the Ainu who were killed.

He knows that her father is linked to it, first being mistaken as a victim of the attack, but in reality hiding behind the Japanese labeled personality of Noppera-bou, not Wilk, the partisan from Karafuto/Sakahlin. It really makes me wonder who originally told Asirpa that her father was killed in the incident. We were never given the information that Wilk died in the attack. Her uncle Makanakkuru, may have been the adult to tell her this, but was he lying because she was a child? Or others knew he was alive like Kiro and they felt it was better for her to not know about this until she was old enough to become involved?

Honestly, I’ve wondered why Asirpa hasn’t been more assertive in the quest for the truth. Yes, she confirmed that Wilk was Noppera-bou at Abashiri and she believed her father didn’t kill them and Sugimoto did eventually tell her that he said he didn’t kill the other Ainu as well. And she then kinda let go of questioning the entire situation.

Which really, with her newfound need to champion the cause of the Ainu, it makes me wonder why she isn’t being more forward with this. She kinda seemed interested when she met Ariko, but hasn’t done as much as I’d expect her to.

Pondering interlude over, Kikuta is trying to negotiate with something that he thinks Asirpa wants, which was not what Ogata tried to do. She seems nervous as she asks him why he’d know this in the first place, so I’d say it implies that she is interested. Kikuta then reveals what we already knew from Ogata back when he was first speaking with Hijikata about the information that Tsurumi learned about the victims. I always read this to imply that Ogata was there as well, but he never says it and instead the Tsurumi examined the stuff. When we learned that Kikuta, Tsukishima and Ogata were a part of Tsurumi’s inner circle of intelligence operatives, it was pretty easy to make the connection that Ogata was indirectly telling Hijikata part of what he saw with Tsukishima and Kikuta there as well.

The action then shows Usami noticing Asirpa and Ogata sees him with a look of disdain. Now that we know that Ogata smacked Usami with a bedpan, we know that Ogata has no love of Usami. Well and that both men have completely opposite personalities.

But of course we see that Usami has made the cardinal sin of most soldiers according to Ogata; he’s abandoned his rifle and is running around with a bayonet. We know by now that bad things happen to those who don’t keep an eye on their rifles!

Kikuta is clearly a very persuasive man and he hits all of the points to convince Asirpa that she should talk to Tsurumi. Since he thinks that knowing what happened to her father would be more important than the gold. This may also be read to mean that upon finding the victims and Wilk, Tsurumi may have talked to him or something critical may have happened.

Could Wilk have requested to Tsurumi to report that he was dead? To create his identity. Both men could have spoken Russian, but Tsukishima and Ogata would have understood things then as well. . . It is clear that Ogata knows more about this along with Kikuta and Tsukishima.

Her nervous face is more than enough to see that Kikuta is making her think about this. Ogata has shifted to aim at her under this observation that she’ll work with Tsurumi.

This means he’s trying to rationalize why shooting Asirpa would strategically be a good idea. She’s the key, she hasn’t told anyone the code and if she died everything was all for naught. But he hesitates. He hesitates because, he knows that Asirpa is innocent and his brain has linked her with Yuusaku. Which leads to the dramatic page of the ‘reappearance’ of Yuusaku. I personally think that Yuusaku is not a ghost, he is the representation of Ogata’s guilt an PTSD in a neat and tidy annoying younger brother package. It is as though whenever he becomes emotionally connected to Asirpa, he begins to pause as he realizes he can’t actually shoot her.

For plot excitement and storytelling purposes, Yuusaku’s ‘ghost’ is linked to Vasily. The first time he appeared was after Ogata defeated Vasily in their insane sniper battle. As he began to fall ill, Asirpa became Yuusaku speaking to him and we get the flashback as to why Yuusaku would ‘haunt’ him and how he has much in common with Asirpa.

This continues as Ogata’s mind keeps connecting the two of them together, especially on the ice floe when it is clear he’s talking to Yuusaku via Asirpa as she’s just confused about his weird monologue. I’m beginning to wonder if the fact that Ogata didn’t kill Vasily also lead to the activation of Yuusaku since it is a time where Ogata didn’t kill his opponent, only injuring him enough to escape to safety.

Whatever mechanism you may think, the point is that concept of Yuusaku standing next to Ogata, sending him some sort of message about why shooting Asirpa would be a bad thing, causes him to jump back in surprise.

This then dramatically saves his life as he’s no longer in a position to aim and instead a single shot hits the chamber that rotates to release the empty shell. At this point in the chapter it is unclear if the damage has prevented Ogata from sniping or if he’ll be able to make do.

He turns in one of his most cat-like fashions as a stray hair hangs and he’s got that ‘huh’ look any cat has when you poked them and they were not impressed.

Vasily looks focused but sweats a little as he likely knows his shot was unsuccessful. Ogata then remarks again, that it was the work of an experienced sniper, the same phrase he used when they encountered Vasily at the Russian border.

I have to admit I was so disappointed that Vasily has gone for the straight up try to shoot Ogata game. Really dude? You just quested from Russia, to Japan, to Hokkaido to then kill Ogata without him realizing they were playing lynx versus snow leopard games? Or is Vasily not quite as skilled as Ogata at hitting a man accurately from a distance? But we know he is.

This leads me to ask, “What is the purpose of Vasily?” is he a pretty Slavic boy who has an unhealthy obsession with Ogata to keep him moving and prevent him from shooting Asirpa? I don’t think Vasily gives a damn about Asirpa, it was clear in Karafuto he just wanted Ogata to come out and play, nya! Or maybe come out and play, мяу! would be more accurate.

Sugimoto thinks Vasily is an Ogata repellent, but he’s never communicated effectively with Vasily and it is clear Vasily has his own goal. I really hope Ogata at least questioned Vasily in Russian after he injured him so that it could reveal something more helpful. Recall, here in chapter 161 is off to get the answers from them, e.g. the Russian border guards.

It would be too simple if Vasily is just a vehicle for Ogata’s Yuusaku/Asirpa guilt to manifest itself and move his character progression along.

Anyhoo, the chapter ends with the tagline “From Russia with Death” a pun on the Bond movie “From Russia with Love”.

If Vasily did damage Ogata’s current type 38, he’s in a reply of what happened the last time he went up against Vasily. Mosin-nagant and a nice warm ushanka versus Ogata, in his wool uniform and the old Berndan Model 1881, with a single shot, as when he used it, he had the extra ammunition held between his fingers here:

A detail that still makes me tingle with excitement that Noda discussed this with Tanigaki and Nihei and Ogata’s the one who does it like a good rifle expert that he is. I look forward to Ogata out sniping Vasily. Or at least outsmarting him.

Really, chapters 251 and 252 show how various characters act in stressful situations. Sugimoto, Tsukishima, Koito and Nikaido are a mess, Shiraishi is trying to avoid shit if possible, Asirpa seems to be trying to leverage her savior complex a bit too much for my liking and Ogata is being haunted by his previous coping mechanisms to ignore that he might actually be human. Though some evidence indicates he may be a cat.

All of this has me excited for 253 and more Ogata action, because I’m biased.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #ogata hyakunosuke #vasily #asirpa #sugimoto saichi #Shiraishi Yoshitake #tsukishima hajime #koito otonoshin #warrant officer kikuta #nikaido #ushiyama tatsuma #Usami Tokishige #Hanazawa Yuusaku

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dionysia · 4 years ago

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modern au christine daaé headcanons, not at all because anyone asked, but bwcause i am a self indulgent bastard

so like

yes. i have already posted this. or at least i HAD. but SOMEHOW, i deleted the original post. and then i found a backup on my google drive! and it's 1am and the emotional turmoil this put me through ALMOST killed me.

she loves horror movies. if it’s on a screen, she is completely immune to jumpscares. she can quote the entirety of the shining from memory.

she has gotten high exactly one (1) time, and this was at a small get together at meg’s house. mme giry had to drive her home, she was completely out of it.

she is also incredibly lightweight. she’ll almost get tipsy just from thinking about wine.

she gets very swedish when she’s drunk. like whatever composed english or american accent she might have gotten down, just goes straight out the window if she gets tipsy

her accent normally is like… that one vaguely ambiguous but legit sounding accent scandinavians pick up when they learn english through consuming american and british media interchangeably

except her intonation is swedish as hell

😭😭😭 iMm sleep deprived

she has an absolutely terrible sense of direction. do Not leave her to her own devices inside a store, you might never find her again.

her go-to outfit is like, a maxi skirt, a hoodie and a knee-length coat.

somehow she’s good at juggling fruit. don’t let her near a basket of apples. she will juggle it.

she has a cat, a grumpy ass persian, and his name is skimbleshanks

she has a rotary dial phone in her apartment, which she actually uses. yes, in modern aus. as in 2020.

on the topic of her apartment, it sort of just looks like monica’s apartment in friends

she actually just sucks at cooking. really good at cracking eggs though

her hands are always very cold, but she has never once in her life considered buying gloves.

she will often be found sitting on tables and countertops.

she calls herself bisexual if asked, because she kissed meg at a party once and she has never regretted it in the slightest.

she knows how to lockpick, and she refuses to disclose where she learnt this.

(sorelli taught her. that’s it. that’s all there is.)

she’s also good friends with raoul’s sisters!

basically she’ll make friends with anyone if you leave her in a room with them

she’s a friend machine

in high school she got lost on her way to choir rehearsal and ended up in the wrong room, so she became an honorary member of the dnd club

she used to look up to carlotta as well, but that sort of ended when carlotta started being mean. not that she didn’t sympathize with the poor girl

she has Really bad eyesight and almost never wears her glasses. she’ll just bump into shit at random

also swears like a sailor when she’s properly angry. sometimes in swedish, sometimes not

at the same time as she’s stupidly naive she’s incredibly easy to rile up in arguments

she had a horse girl phase

and knows Way More about horses than what is necessary for a normal person to know

also used to be obsessed with the western show “bonanza”

the aesthetics really appealed to her

she can name every pre gen 6 pokemon

no no i mean it seriously she can list them

from memory in like pokedex order

she owns a great many mugs

like soooo many

she also hates unpredictability. like, surprises? she does not like em at all. small things are fine! like being surprised with tiny gifts. that's fun! but big things... surprise parties and such... she will Sob

she also gets very homesick. especially if she's stressed over something

#christine daaé #phantom of the opera #edit when need arises #oc tag alouette #most of these go for her too ngl

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milloot · 4 years ago

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oh man imm so drunk i might watch uri om ice again

#Yuri on ice

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spacegaywritings · 5 years ago

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Drunk Kitchen - Chapter 2 “More than Words” (final)

Summary: Emile gets up and takes care of his beloved partners. Remy is hungover and Virgil just loves to snuggle them all. Aka onesie fluff.

Tags: mentions of medication, being hungover, bad mornings, ow ow bodies, nonsexual nudity, being bad at identifying feelings, tears, smol angst for maximum comfort, hurt/comfort, goth remy, pastel Virgil, muscular Emile, migraines, LOTS OF CUDDLES, super much lovs!! happy OT3

The morning eventually rolled around, slowly and surely moving like an overfed house pet. The air was cool yet beautiful with colours and life. The spirit of the weekend was there and the slow-paced wind was in perfect sync with the gradual start into the day. People were done with the week and ready to take things painfully slow and just... relax a bit, live a little and recover from stress and pressure.

Emile was no exception.

He slept in, laying in their bed for much longer than usual and just treating himself to reading a bit. Something in his mind wondered whether he should make up his beloved chaos men but he decided against it in favour of relishing in more silence and granting them a bit more time to recover and consume the sweet relief of sleep.

He eventually got up, his body swinging happily with him as he sung the opening songs of his favourite cartoons shows. His latest favourite of all the literature he possessed inspired him to rewatch Avatar the last airbender again. Maybe he would do that later but first he would order some food and take a looong and nice shower.

After all, the kitchen was unable to provide any place for him to make some pancakes, even if he wanted to. He was honestly horrified at the thought of getting back into that slaughterhouse of dreams and former order. Well, his lovely cryptids deserved some extra sleep so he certainly deserved some take-out food.

The man ordered some breakfast and got into the shower just to get out and dress up in a comfortable onesie for the occasion of a lazy weekend of nothing but self-indulgent care and love for himself and possibly his datemates.

...He would see about that last one.

When Emile poked his head into the living-room, he was just in time for Remy stirring awake, silently and carefully breaking away from their beloved tall bundle of pastel Virgil. The soft giant was sound asleep, chest rising and lowering ever so slowly and gradually while the goth climbed climbed over him, every muscle in his system screaming in pain as he dared to shake his existence to persistently. The movements were so intense and strikingly pain-inducing that he could not help but radiate a great morning energy from anything but a morning person.

The whole room seemed to screech in discomfort as he slid his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose. Emile greeted him with a little smile as he took the cat tail of his Katra onesie.

“Good Meowning to you!”

The sunshine of Emile welcomed Remy into the world and the small man groaned.

“Ugh.. Oh.. oh holy fuc...”, he mumbled before simply collapsing into his arms.

Emile chuckled, his arms immediately clasping shut around the other.

“Aw, missed me?”, he cooed softly, his head moving to plant a few soothing kisses all over the pained muscles in Remy’s hurting face. Everything was a pain, every little thing was damned in agony for him and it was uncomfortable... a bit like a punishment for anything he did or might do in the future. The slightly taller man gently placed a few open-mouthed smooches onto Remy’s slightly sweaty hair.

“Are you in pain, Ri?”

A groan escaped the other. In the background, the bundle of pastel softness came to life.

Em patted his love.

“Go, get a shower. I will get your pills and something to kill your hangover with”, he promised soft before turning so Virgil could hear him too. “Food is ordered and on the way.”

That got Virgil to react. The tall twig catapulted himself out of the couch, blanket still completing the look of a lost princess disoriented in the middle of a strange world.

“mhw..”

He rubbed his eyes, yawning into his patched-up jacket when the realisation of a new day finally dawned on his internal clock.

Emile giggled, his voice radiating the energy Remy was lacking in his daily pain. He skipped out of the commotion and escaped into the bathroom as suggested. Virgil received the loving morning greeting of the other coming over to peck his sleepy forehead.

“Hello there my little love, did you have fun?”

The tall man pushed himself closer, his body residing in Emile’s patient lap as he pushed his face into his stomach.

“mw”, he argued stubbornly, “missed you..”

Emile pulled him closer, his arms locking around him. It fit like a key into its lock and they neatly got together. He nudged his datemate lovingly, carefully encouraging him to shift and show his face a bit more. The tall man curled in on himself and hugged his love closer and just melt in his lap, letting the heat seep into his pores. The warmth eased him into a small puddle of affection and adoration. His heart was beating in blood and love for Emile and Remy and he carefully wiggled closer in his little blanket burrito and mess of his overly big jacket.

“Awww”, the smaller man cooed soothingly as he brushed through his hair.

“I ordered food for all of us” Emile gently patted his love’s face with tender patience. “Do you want to get ready together with me?”

Virgil nodded into Emile’s lean stomach and hugged him closer, nearly tipping him over and making him collapse over the laying form. Emile swayed a bit, his body staggering from side to side just enough for him to somewhat regain his balance. His hands quickly caught himself on his knees and he leaned further over Virgil, his back arching.

The smaller man giggled. It sounded like ringing bells and jingling joy. Virgil could not help but smile at this. His arms wrung around Emile and gently tugged him down, just a bit, just .. just enough to signify his intention.

He wanted his Emile.. He wanted the man to carry him and just cuddle close to him so he could be in his sleepy haze for a little longer, just for a bit more. The wakeful one nodded sagely, a knowing smile on his genuine lips. His lips were curved into the usual expression of eternal love and unconditional admiration for him.

A nod and another shift and Virgil was moved into his toned arms. The blanket burrito of roses and pastels wiggled and snuggled closer to his love and only allowed himself to rest his case when he was smugly pressed against his love, fitting into his arms as if they were figures made for it, made to be together. The only one missing was Remy, this time.

“Perfect”, Virgil reviewed with a soft little smile on his face. He looked like a smug, tiny bird with all the happiness and little corns in his life. “Great arms, good grip. 12/10, would recommend.”

Emile shook his head.

“Don’t you mean purrfect~”, he started with a sly smile and Virgil was already rolling his eyes with the half-annoyed and half-amused grin plastering all over his features. Emile placed Virgil on their bed and took his cat tail, carefully pointing it at Virgil and retreating it when he showcased the feline trait of his costume.

It aligned with his horrible joke, especially when he actually let out a “meow” at the hungover datemate of his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me-”

Emile threw a bundle of fluff at Virgil, effectively emphasising his response when he spoke up against Virgil, his glasses doing the anime blink thing when he took the golden opportunity that had come to him.

“Do you mean kitten~”

He had the chance, he had the words AND HE TOOK IT! Emile Picani made another pun, made a combo and absolutely destroyed his talking partner from the drunk party. The man got it all, he made a double pun - in close succession! He rocked the field of communication and took the lead in all the puns!

“Are you guys really doing this right now?”

Remy leaned against the door frame, coolly glancing over his two datemates. Finally they were together in one room. As always, their “fourth” partner was with them: Remy’s loyal and faithful shades. The sunglasses rested on his face, covering the most useless part of his bare appearance.

It was such a him thing to just show up without anything but it was also a foolishness on Emile’s part to forget about clothes. Remy would never think that far in the morning. Especially not after a day like yesterday.

Virgil did not seem to mind too much, despite the bright blush adorning his features. He poorly attempted at hiding his face in the piece of clothing Emile just threw him but there was only so much looking he could do without revealing his face to a certain extend. When his fingers brushed against the fabric, his attention was shifted to this sensation rather than staring into their datemate and his.. his whole precious self.

He swallowed.

“Ri, look at you! The shower really did a number on you! You look stunning~”

Emile swayed his hips from side to side, hums accompanying his movements as he worked into the closet further, his hands fishing for something in particular. They had a strive in purpose, they had a mission. Remy scoffed but moved into the room, simply letting his body fall into the softness of their big fat bed. The mattress was the softness of a cloud when kids would imagine touching it and it gently hugged him with welcoming warmth as soon as his body connected to the velvet covers.

He fell with a soft thud, the mattress absorbing the impact of his fall as much as the sounds emitted on any other surface he could have possibly crashed his body into. It was Remy, a tired, decaffeinated Remy at that. Honestly, they were all sort of glad the man was walking and alive instead of just vegetating through life, cuddled up on a couch and pretending to care about the effort people put into this strangely popular activity of “not-dying”.

Virgil immediately took the chance to move his legs over him as he dramatically let himself sink into the mattress with his back. Shifting from side to the back of his body was a true chore, given he only did it to gift Ri with the comfort of his twig-like legs on him.

The man beneath him groaned in response but never even lifted as much as a finger to really put a stop to the whole affair. Other than this, he was contently dozing in his truly vegetative state.

The man was just vibin’.

Not for too long, though, as Emile determined. The last of the trio climbed onto the bed with them and quickly cuddled up next to Virgil, stealing just enough of his partially abandoned blanket to cover himself a bit. A bit of rose was now resting on the back of Remy’s head who simply breathed it off.

He, truly and honestly, had no more fucks to give. Well, other than reaching for his lovely datemates and actually pulling his glorious ass back into the game with his wonderful biceps flexing so deliciously for the two cuddly beans to watch. Virgil dove back under the covers only for Remy to slide underneath them as well and join his partners by pressing his precious chonky self right between the two.

There wqas not space. There was nothing but love and onesies in the bed as the Emile smacked a bit of fabric from his hand into Remy’s lap.

Virgil was still quietly struggling to unwrap the one he had been given before. Considering all the distractions he had to put up with, he was to be excused - by all means. His gay heart and dummy soft baby mind was just too easily molten away and the tender heat coming from his too attractively forbidden and kindly loving datemates had his last braincells yield to the desperate queer screeches of the rainbow cotton mass that filled out the inside of his skull.

There was no brain, only gay. No logic, only gay fucking panic in this house.

Virgil stabbed his fingers into the colourful fabric in his hands. This was a mess of dark colours and abandoned Christmas celebrations. Emile literally gave him a Jack Skellington onesie.

While he was busy blowing raspberries on his tongue to spite Em, he climbed into the oddness of this soft, fluffy mess.He would not complain about this.. it was warm and if anyone every needed to bribe Virgil, heat was about the thing to use in order to tempt him into doing something for them in return. Remy was clever to get him into cuddles before asking him to do chores or get him things.

Aforementioned hungover man accepted his fate and crawled into the pinkass bitch fucking unicorn onesie sitting on his lap.

“Fuck, Em, are you serious”, Remy groaned.

He threw his head back, effectively resting the back of it against the shoulders of his beloved beans. They were both an embarrassing amount taller than his own dummy thicc ass. He was stuck between those lively, bright personalities. What a chore. There was a pink unicorn onesie in his lap.. it was just being there, being pink, doing its thing and just vibin while he closed his eyes and wished for them to somewhat be joking about it. He could not deal with so much positivity and softness in the morning.

It was way too much nice feelings and pink and so much .. ugh. Not to be a bitch to Virgil.

He scoffed again, his sounds trying to communicate his feelings and make the point his mind was too tired and pained to string together using words.

“Come on, Ri, join us~”

Virgil chuckled, his shoulder moving to nudge their datemate ever so softly.

“Imma just pretend to peer pressure you along with Em”

He was finally fully dressed in his own share of soft onesie, though he was nothing compared to a pink fluffy unicorn.

Remy’s eyes fluttered open, his lips rolling together as he pressed them together. They split just for a bit, only enough to allow a few silent grumbles to leave his mouth.

“Will you leave me alone if I get into it?”

Silence.

Emile blinked, puppy dog eyes strong behind his huge glasses. Similarly, the tallest of the throuple poked his fingers into Remy’s sides and snickered just a slightest bit.

Apparently, it was only enough to make the smallest of them sigh dramatically, loudly and tragically. He forcefully sunk his own body deeper into the mattress as if to actively try and disappear into it. After remaining in this position for a while longer, two pairs of eyes softly glancing at him as if to coax him out of his hiding spot, he actually moved his arms to pull the the fabric over his legs and up to his body.

A few moments later, he straightened himself underneath the furry coat and snuggled into the little coffin of soft and velvety feelings.

He sighed.

This was much better than originally anticipated.

He kept laying there, just laid there doing nothing and soaking in the surprising heat that came with wearing this weirdly synthetic fabric around him. His whole body was wrapped up in some kind of plastic polyester tube of pure and utter heat. It felt like hell but in the most comfortable and cozy manner he had every experienced.

Remy cuddled up to his love, a gruff sound rumbling from his throat as he snuggled closer to his loves. His body slowly turned so he could spoon their lovely Emile, simply embracing him. The latter did not mind and gently wrapped his arms and legs around Remy in a similar fashion as Virgil snuggled up to Remy’s side and buried his curiously pink hair in the comforting intimacy of Remy’s neck.

The closeness resulting from this position increased the warmth. Everyone was cozied up in the heat of their own intensely isolated bodies due to the persistently caring onesies.

And Remy was such a pretty unicorn.

“I hate it”, he commented sourly.

Emile pressed a little kiss to his throbbing temples.

“You do nooooot, though”, he corrected him patiently, his voice dipping into the soft sound he usually used whenever he got extremely affectionate with his partners.

They collectively decided to close their eyes. For now, it was time to just be, to just .. exist together and soak up the presence of the others around him.

“You guys are ridiculous”, Virgil butted in with his accurate and absolutely helpful comments.

Remy grunted mutely.

“Vi, Vi, Viiii”, Em exclaimed in sudden excitement. The sudden upsurge of emotions swinging his feelings upwards and skyrocketing him up into the sky. “Virgil, look.”

He inhaled intensely, his lungs sucking up the oxygen around him wetly. Emile placed another soft kiss onto his forehead before whispering to his Virgil, neck craned just enough to very much talk over Remy. Quite literally even so.

“Virgil, he loves us so much, he got all red and adorable!!!”

Virgil giggled.

The words their partner spoke were so excited and stressed, they all could hear the exclamation marks and the emotional extra enforcement of words.

Remy shook his head, stubbornly. His body sank deeper into the mattress as he simultaneously yet uselessly so tried backing up only to dive his back deeper into Virgil’s warm and immensely soft arms. Being sandwiched between the pastel giant and a whole arm of muscular Emile, Remy found himself to be in a spot that could only be described as pure heaven. He was right between one cloud of silky warmth and one equally as velvety blanket-like one.

The tiny chonk of a hurting bitch was relaxing on cloud nine, trapped in the lovely affection that made his stoned heart melt and cave with every word they spoke, if they even spoke. Hell, even simple sounds or looks could send him into a session of gay sighs and intensely queer feelings. His pinkycorn hoe-self snuggled back up between them, finally succumbing to just how much he enjoyed the contact, being flanked by the two equally disastrous tall queers. It was a whole festival of rainbow-colours and intensely soft feelings.

They remained in position for the time being. Everyone relished in the affection they received and gave to each other. This was heaven, this was paradise.

Eternal happiness should be nothing more but hungover cuddles together with the dearest people you had in life.

Despite being a grumpy shit, Remy felt his migraines fade to a somewhat manageable level. Sickness was less of an issue by now and he was dozing off again due to the sheer comfort that led him to believe pain was an illusion. He was floating in the bubble of isolating himself from the outside world. He was up above the troubles of earthly life, of any connections to the physical realm.

Remy was lighter than a feather. He was flying, flying. Up above, sinking slowly, dipping down and landing blindly yet carefully.

When the wings of sleep graced his head and caressed his cheek, he was ready to take a little nap, he braced himself for the comfort and healing effects of a good old powernap in the middle of the day because life sucks and migraines suck even harder but painfully so.

Instead, the fucking doorbell STARTED GOING OFF-

A sudden ring shook them out of their sleepy trance. Virgil flinched into his defensive stance, pulling Remy close to his chest - hell, he would put him into his ribcage if he could. Emile basically vibrated for a moment before also cuddling closer to Remy. Essentially, everyone grabbed a bit of soft unicorn and made sure to protect the endangered species that was a grumpy Remycorn.

Emile was the first to snap out of it, his love for his precious partners quickly melting his frozen state. Within a few minutes, he got onto his feet and quickly made his way across the room, announcing “Food!!!” in a somewhat loud-ish yet rather moderate volume. All things considered, Remy was probably still suffering from a migraine and Emile did not want to make it worse.

Virgil made sure to curl around their smallest datemate while Emile took the social high road and actually interacted with the nice person who delivered food on the weekend. It was noon but they still delivered food!

He was soon back with two whole bags of food. Virgil was not sure but it looked as if they were softly steaming just a slightest bit. Remy certainly could not tell from the point of view of a man who saw the world through the tinted glasses of his protective shades. But when Emile passed by with the food, he did not stop to return to the bedroom, he moved on. He continued walking instead of bringing the food over.

Remy sent Virgil a quizzical look akin to a glare more than anything. A hungover dude just wanted some fucking food and it smelled like a lethal level of spices for his upset stomach and bitchy body. It was absolutely perfect! But now, for some reason, Emile was taking the idea of sustenance away from him and Remy would not tolerate it, so he committed himself to mentally - yes, telepathically, if you want to be brave - converse with Virgil.

Somehow, he needed to convey just how upset he was. One of his datemates was to do his what he was unable to do, physically.

“Virgil, Virgil”, his mind alerted the taller one, “Emile got the food, he took the food and ran off!”

Remy was clearly pouting at this point. The combination of his chronic pain and the aftermath of drinking left him in an emotionally special state, not to speak about his physical vulnerability. Even the smallest amounts of movements could be torture to him, depending on how intense his episodes of migraines were.

Virgil knew. He was patient and considerate as always and nodded, snuggling their datemate close and mumbling silent yet actual words in response.

“ ‘s okay. ‘M can go ‘n get ‘t”, he suggested softly, his voice so soft it could barely be heard. It might have been just above a whisper but considering he was so close to Remy, his back and the tall man’s chest pressed together, it was as if he was speaking for him, into him only.

The smaller man hugged himself when the other started moving away. A great source of heat removed itself from him and it got cold within his body but also outside of it fast. A soft whine escaped his mouth.

... No, that did n o t happen.

“Shut up, Virgil”, he thought at the other who compliantly gave him a kiss to his temples before getting off the bed.

It happened so fast, maybe nothing but a few seconds passed. The world was still spinning for Remy. He never wanted to get up again. At least for the time being, at least for today. His whole world was moving at an incredible speed and it did not stop and everything was so much. Now even his datemates left and there was no food to absorb the absurd amounts of alcohol he had ingested the day before like the dummy thicc thirsty bitch he was.

He felt awful. The world was heavy and sensing it was hurtful and so much of a chore to him, it felt unnaturally exhaustive. Now he was upset. The feeling of somewhat being abandoned struck him, slowly creeping into his skull. He was the small pupper left outside the store for a quick stop but then never to be picked up by their original owners.

Maybe it was just stupid hormones, but he hugged the blanket close to him. It was his little saving grace, his comfort. It did not leave him. It could not even go as far as to think about it because it was a stupid piece of fabric without conscious. He buried his face in the softness, waiting for the comfort of its feeling on his skin to hit him and slay the bad feelings within him.

Remy felt the surge of negativity take over, the devastation within him fizzy like hot chilli burning him from within and hurting him endlessly. It bubbled up, came so close to his heart while he clung to the fabric, his little lifeline of stability. It was all ready to collapse like an old abandoned building, like him.

“Ri?”, a voice asked, soft like an angel.

A hand carefully placed itself right next to him yet did not dare to directly touch him as if he was about to collapse, as if he was so fragile, this little bit of touch would simply destroy him completely.

“Riri, we are back with plates~”

Another voice, more gruff but just as dampened to a comfortable volume. The voices wrapped around his mind and coaxed him into disconnecting his own, damp face from the furry soft blanket.

“Oh, love, does it hurt that much?”

Remy blinked slowly, the sunglasses carefully slipping down his nose from the wetness his tears had caused. Small little droplets of salty rivers drew despair over his features and left sad, lifeless imprints on his face. The shades were trusty and loyal as always, trying to hide the extreme reaction from the others.

His head slowly moved to shake itself in order to indicate disapprovement. Just a moment before he started the movement, he stopped and sat up. Virgil and Remy put the food and others onto the nearby shelf - instead of clothing, it would now hold some meals as well. The two synchronically climbed back into the bed and slid into place by Remy’s sides, Virgil back on his right while Emile joined him from his left side, arms opened.

“ ‘t’s m’kay”, Virgil softly assured, One of his hands brushed through Remy’s hair, barely as much as touching more than the tips of his strands only. The dark bundle was a messy piece of chaos, still a bit damp yet soft and light to the touch.

Emile let his hand add up, his fingers right next to Remy’s face.

“You don’t have to say it. We can be there for you, still. We always will be here if you want to let us in - if you can, love.”

His words softly pressed into his heart. The paws of his intonations gently caressed his chest, massaging into it and easing the tension within him. It was like receiving love from a cat.

Remy shrugged, his nose drawing in a sharp breath.

“F-feelings”, he sniffled.

He took another shaky breath, this time breathing through his mouth to make sure he actually got something other than some half-sniffling attempts at breathing in a miserable amount of oxygen.

Virgil scoffed.

“ Fuck ‘em”, he advised as his hand carefully sunk just a tad deeper into his hair. Rhythmically stroking through the little mess, he patiently hummed, his eyes softly taking in his hidden face.

Emile clicked his tongue. They all knew he did not exactly agree but he sensed the mood enough to not start a lecture at the moment, especially knowing their datemate and his issues well enough.

“What do you want right now? If you know what it is, would you perhaps share it with us, so we can help you?”

The question settled in his face, pulling at his features and straining him further. It pulled the sadness away and his focus back on the issue Emile has brought up. Well, what did he want?

The smaller man inhaled deeply, his eyes closing automatically as he focused. His hands blindly got up, making Virgil retreat his hand out of respect. Remy simply lifted his shades to rub the wetness and salt away from his hot and swollen orbs. They were probably all red like strawberries and puffed up like popped corn.

“Ca-”, he started, his voice leaving him.

He cleared his throat and tried it once more.

“Can we hug..?”

The words were rough like sandpaper and listening sort of hurt in his datemates’ ears and hearts. It was the sort of tickling that got too much, too violent and uncomfortable to the point it sort of hurt because the touch receptors were overloaded and would react in irritation. All in all, he was so quiet, Virgil barely heard him and he was leaned in close enough to smell the scented shampoo used on his hair. It reminded him of energy drinks, ginger and cedar - one of these “manly” scents of hygiene articles.

Nevertheless, his point came across. Whether it was him pushing his shades away to reveal his tortured and upset eyes or his words, maybe even the fact he opened his arms so clearly, he definitely invited the two to snuggled up to him or even tower over him and sandwich him as before. The two took the hint and his datemates were quick to follow suit and fit right by his broad shoulders.

“Dunno, Ri, ya think we can?”, Virgil softly teased. His mumbles flooded his hair roots as he nudged the tip of his nose against his head’s side. These actions reminded him of a cat bonking their had together with the one of the person they wanted to express affection for. It magically brought a little twitch of a smile to his face after all.

Maybe it worked.

He nodded and turned his face to press a little peck to Virgil’s prominent cheekbones.

Emile carefully tugged them back down and tickled his skin with butterfly kisses around his exposed collar bone.

“We will always be here for you”, he repeated ever so gently, “if you just let us know, we will always try and make sure to help you and be here for anything you need.”

A little shake rocked Remy’s body. He willingly sunk down with them and pulled his arms around them to pull his two loves to his chest.

“It hurts sometimes”, he explained, “but it never ceases to beat for you”

Virgil giggled against the beating cavity.

“Sap, you”, another round of chuckles interrupted his silent words, “ya soft, soft sap.”

Emile snuggled closer to him, one of his hands resting on Remy’s stomach while the other one hugged him.

Surprisingly enough, Remy’s body decided to speak for them all. His tummy grumbled subtly. Faint in sound and strong in movement, the datemates felt the sudden surge of vibrations, causing Emile to giggle this time.

“Would you bear with me getting our food from here?”

Remy’s arms loosened their grip on the two. Emile slipped away once more and Virgil pushed a pillow into the smaller individual’s direction to help him get his head up.

“Bitch beast ‘s gon’a be fed”

His statement painted another breeze of amusement over Remy’s face. This time a more persistent smile rested on his features. He took another breath, a free and freer one.

“Vi, this is not how nicknames work, I believe”

He handed him a bowl and cutlery before setting down a bit on the little man in the middle.

“That okay”, he asked carefully, his voice edging on tapping around in the dark. Every step was measured and doubted or calculated at the very least.

Remy nodded and patted his side.

“Come back, you silly bitch”

The inviting smile got Emile to sit down with them once more despite the offensive-sounding words. An approving sound came off him and he awarded his love with a kiss to his nose.

“You two are great. You are just amazing. Em, V, I love you.”

The latter snorted, a part of him looking indignant.

“Ya fuck’n better!”

Remy joined with another giggle, Emile got the heart to do the same.

“I love you too, darling”

The smaller one rolled his eyes before closing them again. He had to pay a price for straining his eyes that much.

Virgil sighed dramatically as he crashed back down into the mattress.

“ ‘kay, fuck. ‘M lovya guys too.”

They cuddled, up, starting to share some food and feeding one another harmonically. Virgil and Remy warmed up to the day and shared stories of their previous adventures along with the food. There was an honourable mention about the Legendary Oil Fight which Emile accepted with many nods and stimming hands. He himself revealed some more information about his experience of the previous night and the three partners enjoyed the contrast between their deeds and feelings which happened at the same time yet were so starkly in differences.

After they had eaten, they snuggled more and soon reverted to a calm state of dozing more than being awake.

“Hey”, Emile verbally nudged them into a more wakeful state. “You know you two will clean the kitchen after you feel better.”

“Ugh, Eeeeem”, Virgil groaned. Remy snickered wildly. “He is such a bad bitch.”

“Listen, you two, next time we go and fight the oil monster together and then we will all clean up the battlefield afterwards.”

Virgil and Remy exchanged a look.

...

“Deal.”

Emile smiled, warmth consuming his heart and he adjusted the blanket and allowed himself to press more against Virgil who was next to him after they had switched places a bit.

“Alright, you wild ones. Deal.” He giggled. “I will drink you under the table and right into the gutter, you weaklings~”

They all giggled, the sounds mingling and intertwining like their cuddly limbs and sensitive hearts. Soon enough, the three were asleep again, only having each other in their minds and on their tongues.

Together, they were just so much ....

Better.

♥

23 notes · View notes

themagicalreads · 5 years ago

Text

Journey Home (Mature/Prompt)

Rapunzel was hot despite the biting cold wind of the sea rushing outside, and it was all the captain's doing. Jack sucked at the nape of her neck as he moved against her, drawing a long moan from her lips. She ran her fingers up his back, pulling him as close to her body as she could, before moving on to his hair.

"Mmm," his mumbling was deep, husky. She tugged at his white locks to bring more out of him, and he obliged wonderfully.

"Oh, captain," she whined in pure bliss.

He pulled away from her, suddenly, eyes sinking deep inside her soul.

"Jack," she corrected herself with a small smile. He rewarded her with a smirk and his tongue slipping in smoothly beside her own. Her entire body buzzed with energy, with light and tingles and love. Pure love, and shared ecstasy.

Rapunzel tightened her bare legs around Jack's hips as they continued their rocking. Then, she gripped his pale shoulders and flipped him onto his back so she now sat atop him, in control. His chest shivered as she ran her hands across it, feeling drunk by his very presence.

This was the most ruthlessly handsome man she'd ever laid eyes upon. The youngest captain to sail the Seven Seas on a fully crewed ship. And yet he had the biggest heart she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. One he liked to trap inside of a birdcage called his ship. The Zella. A nameless ship named after her, of every human in existence.

The way he looked at her now with heavy-lidded eyes made her question how it had taken her so long to let him in, even after he'd saved her from a life no one wished to have. It had taken him a while to break apart his cold-hearted persona to her as well, but he'd shown her vulnerability long before she could even muster to reveal hers.

He gripped her hips gently, running his hands over her thighs and back again. To places that made her insides flip completely in the most wonderful of ways.

When they were finished, Jacks head dropped against the pillow as he tried to catch his breath. After a few seconds of relishing in his sweet scent, Rapunzel sat up on his hips and brought his suddenly-distanced mind back on board with a soft finger to his chin.

"Your heads off somewhere in the moon again," she said as his ice blue eyes, warm as the sun, met her own. They were full of sadness, and love, and pain.

"Is it?"

Rapunzel nodded.

"You're beautiful."

Tingles rushed over her spine, but she ignored them, to her body's dismay. She plucked his crumpled, white, linen shirt off the bedsheets beside them and pulled it over her chest. It was much more flowy on her than it ever was on him, which was one of the reasons why she loved wearing it to bed so much. Immediately, she felt fingers playing at its hem, tugging up and down. "And you're ignoring my questions again," she told him.

Jack sighed, pulling his wandering hands away from her to palm at his eyes. "Because it's a decision I've already made. We're going for the Black Treasure."

Rapunzel shook her head in disbelief. "Everyone's gone for the Black Treasure, you and I both know it's a death trap." She lowered her palms to his stomach. "No one's caught word of the Golden Flower yet, save from us, the Sea De Vil, and the Jolly Roger. And we're the ones closest to the island, as far as word carries. It'd be stupid not to go."

Jack shifted, gently pushing at her hips until she swung off of him. While he pulled his breeches on, Rapunzel sat patiently on her legs until he grumbled: "I'm not going back to Corona. I made that clear with you before you joined the crew."

"And I haven't said a word about it in six years. It would've been longer if Nicholas hadn't told us about the sighting."

Jack shook his head again, then glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's a magic golden flower. There's no such thing."

Rapunzel smiled softly, crawling over to sit just behind his shoulder. She slid her chin down over it, wrapping her arms around his own in an embrace that set her soul of fire. "I don't believe in magic," she mocked, in a horrible imitation of his voice. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, Ice Man."

"I was cursed. There's a difference."

"You've never viewed your magic as a curse before. And even if it was technically a curse, the fact that it exists is proof that this flowers' powers can very much be real, too. We can't miss the chance of someone else finding it. Imagine the gold people would pay for it—more than all the treasures we've kept and sold combined. We can treasure it, too. Keep it to ourselves."

Jack was quiet for a long moment. She knew he'd grown up on the island, same as she, but he'd never confessed why he refused so strongly to go back, and she'd never felt the right to push. She hadn't told him everything about her long years in Gothelitch either. He had a right to his own privacy as everyone else did with things that didn't involve her.

He opened his mouth to speak, finally, when a loud bang! suddenly sounded from the door. "When you two lovebirds are done rubbin' up all over each other," Merida, the Zella's master gunner, yelled from the other side, "we got somethin' out here ya might wanna see."

"Aye!" Jack answered. The both of them hurried into their own garments and out of the captain's quarters. Out on the main deck, most of the crew stood gazing at something far off to sea.

"Ya see 'im watching us too?" Hook Hand's eyes glared under the hand pressed over his brows, shielding the sun.

"I can feel 'im," Big Nose added.

"Aye, captain! First lady," Merida sauntered over, nodding to the both of them. "Sailin' master's caught somethin' on the horizon. Gettin' easier to see by the second. Aye, Haddie," she yelled out to the sky, suddenly, where Hiccup Haddock stood on the main mast. "How's it lookin' up there?"

"Definitely him!" Hiccup yelled back. "I recommend we set sail East soon, unless we want a repetition of the blood moon!"

Rapunzel glanced at Jack, whose face was still as a frozen lake. The battle on the blood moon had been a nightmare, worse than any they'd been in. The Zella usually did its best to avoid physical conflict between other ships and coastal villages—it was how other pirates got their ships sunk to the ocean's bottom so quickly in their early days of sailing, or how they lost their treasure faster than they earned it, what with all the repairs it cost 'em. The Zella was more so of a silent threat, he'd say. We were a legend, never seen, yet wielding a deadly strike.

Their run-in with the Sea De Vil hadn't been planned. Jack was usually good at tricking others and tracking their thoughts long before they even made them, but he'd made a slight miss guess on Captain Crell's plans. He hadn't expected the renovations he'd given his ship months back for faster sailing. Guess someone else caught on to Jack's tricks—when you scream your plans out for the world to hear, surprise is an impossible thing to achieve. But if you put them to motion under the cover of sealed lips and well placed coins, diverting expectations most often turns victorious.

Now, that very ship was sailing straight for them, only but a small blip on the horizon. It would take a day for them for meet up if they continued on their current route.

"He's sailing for Corona," Rapunzel told him. "Heading South. We're a bonus treasure on his path."

"We're sinking him next time we meet." Jack's voice was stiff, and incredibly determined. There was no doubt in her that his words were true—the Zella's was easily the toughest ship on the Seas. "The Jolly Roger, too."

"You really think words not going to make it to the others if we take those two down? It's a useless endeavor. They'll just cost us more gold in repair, and for what? Temporarily stopping pirates from sailing for the Golden Flower?"

Jack's lips were pressed in a neat line. She knew she was getting onto his nerves about the topic, but she was itching to head home, despite what she told him. The one thing that had kept her from dangerous thoughts after she'd been forced into white slavery was the thought of seeing her parents again. She hoped her disappearance hadn't affected their protectiveness of her sister to a point of extreme. Slavery was a common thing, but her family had cared about one another far too much to let it become an unspoken topic, she knew.

"Please," Rapunzel whispered. She knew she was being cruel, torturing him this way, but she needed to see them at least one last time. She needed to know they were okay, and that she was too.

Jack refused to look at her. The pain he was trying so hard to hide in his eyes tore her heart to pieces. What was she doing to him? She knew she was right in her talk about the flower's worth, but Corona had always been the one thing he'd refused to hear talk about.

He scowled, finally, starring deep into the horizon. "Turn the sails south," he ordered.

***

They arrived at sunrise three days later. The Coronian seas were calm as they anchored down around a mountainous bend, covering them from prying eyes.

"Everyone, ready yourselves for a quick leave," Jack announced as he marched down the main deck. "I won't be long."

The crew groaned in disagreement.

"Ya mean none of us are comin' with, save for Zel?" Merida complained. "No offence, Cap, but that's idiocy at its best."

Jack shot her a dangerous look.

"You'll need Haddie for his navigation skills. And you'll need me, for added protection, yeah? Ain't that what we usually do?"

"This isn't a usual case," Jack informed her. But Merida had never been one to give up. It was a wonder Jack bothered keeping any of this crew around, considering how much they talked back at him. Rapunzel suspected he liked it, deep down. It made their days on the ship that much more entertaining and pleasant, considering the business they were in.

"We do make a good team," Hiccup had just climbed down from his mast, ready for departure. "Zella's four heads of ship."

"Fine." Jack gave in. "Shorty! Lower two boats. We leave immediately." And immediately they did. Rapunzel found herself sitting in front of an emotionless Jack in a matter of no time. His gaze was glassy, fixed on nothing as he rowed their boat off to shore. His grip on the paddles was tight; it worried Rapunzel.

"Talk to me," she said, finally, over the sound of waves tugging them along. "What are you thinking, Jack? It's no good keeping things bottled up inside. You're not a treasure map, or a letter lost at sea."

That brought out a brief chuckle from Jack. "It's nothing."

Rapunzel frowned. "You're worse than a lady. It's not nothing."

"Doesn't matter anyway," he shrugged.

The boat scratched to a stop against the sand, but Rapunzel made no move to get out. Instead, she hopped onto Jack's lap, legs on either side of his hips, and gently pried his fingers away from each paddle. They moved to rest on her waist, only to lower back to his side. The subtle action hurt Rapunzel more than she cared to admit. She leaned forward, oh so slowly, and slipped her tongue between his lips, soothed when she felt his hands return to caress her.

"I love you," she told him.

Jack closed his eyes, gripping at her hips with each rock of the boat. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

She felt one of his hands reaching up to rub against her hair. "It'll hurt more when you leave."

Realization dawned on her suddenly—he thought she would leave the Zella as soon as they docked in Corona. His sudden failed attempts at distancing himself from her made much more sense now. From the past three days, he'd been trying to rip away his attachment to her. Rapunzel gripped Jack's neck, brushing her fingers against the hair at his nape. "I just want to visit them," she clarified. "I want us all to know we're okay—that I am, now. The Zella's my new home, captain."

Relief flooded over Jack's face, something he was brief to show. A smirk suddenly found its way back to his lips. "Bad girl."

Rapunzel smiled against his lips, warmth swelling inside of her. "Forgive me, sweet, sweet, Jack."

"Aye!" Merida yelled from somewhere off to their left. She and Hiccup had just arrived. "Got a magic flower to find, eh?"

Hiccup chimed in, "Nicholas mentioned it was somewhere by—"

"I know where it is," Rapunzel interrupted, joining up with the others. She looked at them almost guiltily. "I might have done some of my own research after Nick clued us in. If I read the riddles right, it's on top of a hill just out of town. Oh no!" Rapunzel patted at her dress. "I drew a map of how I remembered the island! I was so excited, I must've forgot it on the ship, but that's alright," she was quick to add, grinning at Jack. "We can grab one in town—it'll be much more accurate, and we can visit my family on the way!"

"Sounds like a plan, Zel," Merida agreed, happily.

"If they're as sweet as you, we should invite them on the crew," Hiccup added, only to earn an elbow to the gut from Merida.

They all laughed, save from Jack. "I'm not going," he told them.

"Oh, but they'd love you!" Rapunzel insisted. She was quick to give up her attempts at convincing, however. She knew could do it, he'd crack in a few minutes time, but the trick in gaining a silver tongue was to know when not to push. Jack never wanted to go back home in the first place. Something must have happened in town—something he didn't want to remember. He could meet her family another time, then. "We'll meet back here in half an hour," she told Jack once they'd reached the main bridge.

"Make it an hour," Jack said, but Rapunzel shook her head, keeping it at half. If she spent too much time with the family, she might forget how strongly she loved being at sea.

She might want to stay.

Rapunzel pressed a kiss onto Jack's cheek in goodbye. Then, she followed an ecstatic Merida and Hiccup down the bridge.

Corona was just as beautiful as she remembered, with his big, brick building, and sunny flag. She'd been caught after wandering too far on the outskirts when she was but a seven year old girl. She'd spent another seven in the grips of white slavery, where dirty men used her in ways no child or adult should ever be used. When Jack had stopped by Gothelitch in search for the islands solid gold tooth box, he'd had a run-in with the head of operation, Sir Black. Merida had been the one to spot her first, and she'd convinced Jack to unleash the crew of the Nameless to free our group of imprisoned girls. They'd succeeded, to her surprise, despite them only having been in the pirate business for barely over a year—he'd started when he was but fourteen, Rapunzel's age at the time.

If she hadn't been so curious, she never would have left Corona. She never would of met Jack, or Merida, or Hiccup, or even the rest of the crew. She was grateful for everything that had happened to her, in a way, but she still had nightmares of her time in Gothelitch. The town itself was lovely, but it had been tainted by her reason for being there.

Hiccup located a map easily. Finding Rapunzel's parents had been harder but, with a lot of asking around, they finally found themselves before an old brick home. Her parents looked the same as she pictured, but little Poppilia was almost her height. She was seventeen now, almost a grown woman, just like Rapunzel. It hurt her to know she'd missed out on watching her grow up, on creating memories only a big sister could give her. Still, her sadness gave way to relief at knowing they were still safe and okay.

"Where have you been?" Her mother asked after many hellos.

Rapunzel briefly explained what had happened to her, sparing them of the awful detail. Only she would bare that burden. "I've been sailing on the Zella since," she concluded. But instead of pure joy at her safety, her family looked fearsome.

"Doesn't Captain Jack own that ship?" Poppy asked, worry etched on her brow.

"Yes," Rapunzel smiled. "He's the most wonderful man."

Her father turned to her mother. "He was an Overland, wasn't he? Left at thirteen. I remember him."

"Oh, Punzel!" Her mother sighed, taking her shoulders. "Stay with us! Please, it's so good to have you back. We'll protect you from that man." Her green eyes flicked to Merida and Hiccup, standing a few paces behind Rapunzel. "Your friends too, they're absolutely free to stay."

Rapunzel's brows formed a neat V as she pushed one of her mother's hands free of her shoulder. "I can't stay," she told them, expecting sadness, instead of the worry they all suddenly wore in their eyes. "But I'll visit. I promise."

She made to move away when her father suddenly reached for her wrist. "Sweetheart, please! Don't go back to that devil! He'll flay you, just like he did his family!"

Rapunzel stilled. She saw her friends do the same as well—except they weren't watching her father.

They were watching her.

"What?" Rapunzel asked her father.

"The boy murdered his entire family, an older sister and two younger brothers. Then the coward had the sense to run away and get himself into that pirate business. No one's dared chase after him, not after everything he's done."

Rapunzel's head spun wildly, a headache blooming at her temple. When she turned to Merida and Hiccup, she found them completely unsurprised by the news she just been given. It was true, then. Jack had killed his own family. That explained why he ran away—why he didn't want to come back.

Rapunzel ripped her wrist out of her father's grip. There was an explanation, there had to be! Jack wasn't a monster. But why hadn't he told her what he did? Why hadn't he...?

She stormed out of Corona, ignoring her family's pleading calls. Merida and Hiccup said nothing, but she was pleased to hear they were struggling to follow her quick pace.

"Explain!" She yelled at Jack when she found him hanging by the bridge. Tears already stained her cheeks, but she didn't attempt to wipe them away. She could see it on his face, then, the horrified realization that she knows. Rapunzel knew what he'd been trying so hard to hide from her.

"I..." he started, but failed to continue.

"Your own family!" Her yells were drawing attention from the townsfolk, but she couldn't stop, couldn't stop it with the utter pain radiating through her.

"Not to interrupt," Hiccup hesitantly started, "But can we talk about this while—"

"It's there!" Rapunzel jammed her finger over a spot his open map. "Go find your damn flower!"

Red tainted Hiccup's cheeks, sending a rush of guilt swishing through her stomach. He and Merida rushed off without another word. She'd apologize to them after—they'd done nothing wrong. This had been Jack's secret to share, and he'd failed to do so. "Why?"

His blue eyes flashed. He glanced around them quickly. Then, he took her elbow and led her behind a nearby stand. She should have felt afraid, but he was so familiar. She'd trusted him far too much, and now her body couldn't even be afraid of him.

"It was... It wasn't me," he explained. "I mean, it was, but it wasn't. Not really."

Rapunzel lip quivered. "You're not making much sense."

Jack let go of her elbow and turned away from her. He rubbed a hand through his hair, pulling. Finally, they dropped tiredly to his sides. "It happened after the curse," he whispered. "I stole from the wrong lady. She was talking gibberish to me, saying how she was gonna curse me and all that. Thought she was just rattling out stuff that she knew would scare a normal kid." He shook his head, deep in memory. "I ran back home. Went to sleep thinking my brothers would have the laughs of their lives after I told them about what happened tomorrow." His shoulders shook, but Rapunzel couldn't hear him crying. "I woke up in the middle of the night. All I remember is sitting in the backyard, looking at—at their bodies, all—"

Rapunzel's hand betrayed her. She placed it over his shoulder in comfort, and he turned his face toward her in reflex. They were tear-filled; he had been crying after all. "You don't have to—"

"I flayed them alive. Probably did more, too, seeing how frostbitten they looked. I don't remember anything other than sitting in the yard looking at them. And then running for the fastest boat off land. I knew even then that nothing I could do would bring em' back."

Rapunzel could feel her heart wrenching, twisting harshly at the memory. How horrible must it have been to live with such a sight engrained in your mind? And she'd thought she'd experienced scarring things.

Frostbitten. It explained why he'd refused to use his powers during her first years on board. It took three entire years for them to become close friends, for Rapunzel to develop a crush she hadn't known he returned until that evening in the ship's stores when they'd gotten closer than usual. "Can I kiss you?" He'd asked, face only inches from hers. He had her pressed against the wall as soon as she'd whispered, "Yes." But the flashes of her past still haunted her, then. More than they did now that she knew she was safe. It had taken her long to let him share more than simple kisses in the shadows with her.

It had taken him just as long to give in to Rapunzel's constant encouragement for him to make use of his powers.

"Did you ever try pursuing the witch?" She asked him. "Maybe she would have known how to reverse it."

Jack bobbed his head up and down. "She was Black's mistress in Gothelitch."

Betrayal bloomed inside Rapunzel like a poisoned flower. "That's why you came to the island. To the house. To get your revenge on the Great Dame. You weren't planning on saving us at all, were you?"

Jack looked away, and Rapunzel slid her hand off of him. "Please," he begged, suddenly, looking back at her with widened eyes. His hand had quickly found its way to the crook of her elbow. "The crew really did want to get you girls out of there after we made it. I did. You know I would never lie to anyone on board, especially not you."

Rapunzel closed her eyes as his palm reached her jaw. He pet a thumb against her cheek, sending sparks running through her skin with every stroke. "I wouldn't of hated you if you'd told me," she whispered. "I could never hate you."

"You should," he whispered back. "You really should."

"Jack," Rapunzel opened her eyes. "It wasn't your fault. What you did. Your heart's as good as the Gods above, it was the curse that—"

"There he is!"

Rapunzel twisted fast toward the street, where Poppy stood pointing with a guard at her side. Fear shot through her heart—Jack was not welcome on this island, that much was clear to her now. "Run!" He pulled him away with her, just as a gunshot sounded. Its smell soured the air around them as they ran to shore, fast as their legs could take them. More gunshots came as they found their way to their boat and started rowing. Rapunzel watched as they pulled Merida and Hiccup's boat off shore—they'd have to come find them later.

Then, one last gunshot fired, and it had its eye on Jack's back. He lurched forward as Rapunzel cried out. "Hold it!" She told him, taking charge of the rowing. Her arms were already starting to burn from the pull, but she was glad to see Jack finally do what he was told. "Rip my skirts," she added.

Despite his situation, Jack still managed to smirk. "I don't think now's the time for that, princess."

"Rip my skirts," she said again. "Use it to cover the wound until we get on deck"

"Princess," Jack struggled to hum again in her lap. He was silent for a moment as he tried and failed to move himself upward. "I can't feel my right hand, and my thigh's going numb."

Rapunzel was breathing hard, sweat beading at her brow. She rowed faster. "What?" She said, looking down at him. "You—no. No, you'll be alright." She stopped rowing, suddenly, and helped him into a sitting position at the bottom of the boat, despite his protests. She wasn't strong enough to tear the fabric of her skirts, so she made sure he kept his left sleeve against the open would while she took Jack's previous place and worked all of her energy into rowing. "You'll be alright," she kept telling him.

But the both of them knew he wouldn't be.

"The Golden Flower has healing magic, doesn't it?" Rapunzel asked.

"It'll be too late," Jack answered.

"No," she insisted. "I'll hop on a boat with Vladimir as soon as we get back. We'll tie a second one with us and carry it along for Merida and—"

"No, Zella." Jack's voice was stern, decisive. It left no room for argument. "We're going back for them, just not now. They're smart enough to hold out on their own."

"Jack," Rapunzel's voice was weak, broken. The bullet had hit his spinal cord. He was being forced to succumb to paralysis, something she couldn't imagine would ever be easy for Jack to bare, considering how active he always was. He'd realized it, too, she knew. How horrible must he be feeling, knowing his fate? And after everything he'd gone through.

It wasn't fair.

Nothing was fair.

Rapunzel cried out for the crew as soon as they were close enough to the Zella. Nothing was fair, that was true, but from now on, she vowed, she would make sure to make that very saying as untrue as she could.

#JackunzelFS20 #pirate au #jackunzel #jack frost #rapunzel #merida #hiccup haddock #the big four #rotbtd #wattpad fanfic #jackunzel week #jackunzel prompt #jack frost x rapunzel

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