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hhjs · 4 years ago

Text

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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ihearthes · 4 years ago

Photo

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!”

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases.

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie!

You’d bought four pieces.

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa.

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time.

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space.

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea.

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away.

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again.

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute.

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound.

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes.

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter.

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch.

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.”

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly.

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice.

“Fuck,” he repeats.

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.”

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken.

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…”

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas.

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily.

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you.

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy.

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch.

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again.

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you.

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video.

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him.

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside.

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom.

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette.

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia.

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps.

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception.

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there.

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips.

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa.

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen.

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you.

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr.

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.”

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely.

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly.

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit.

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip.

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted.

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment.

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant.

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him.

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs.

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined.

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder.

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it. Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership. Thanks for your consideration!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #my writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1d imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #sorry I'm so slow at getting this one finished!#please let me know what you think

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couchpotatoaniki · 4 years ago

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One Year ❣︎ Three: The Execution

Chapter Summary: Trying to cool off, you decided to spend the day by yourself. This couldn’t have gone any better for San’s plan.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, stalking, kidnapping Word count: 2.5k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Two For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

Buzzing came from your pocket, initially thinking your phone got a notification until it continuously vibrated. Yunho was calling you.

“Yo, where are you? Mingi told us what happened between you and Dom--and before you say anything, he’ll be having hell to pay, regardless of whether you approve or not.”

Chuckling, you sighed as you looked at your surroundings. “Fine by me. Do what you like to him.” Slowing down in front of a cute-looking coffee shop, you answered his first question...partially. “Just taking a stroll in the town.”

“Wanna be left alone?” You hummed as you entered the establishment, being hit with wafts of bakes goods. “Very well then. But we’re gonna hunt you down if you’re not back by midnight.”

“M’kay, Pops,” mumbling absent-mindedly while overlooking the menu on the screens above the counter.

You couldn’t see the gentle bitter smile on his face, knowing very well that you weren’t as stone-cold as the façade you masked yourself in. Had an idea that you just needed space. “Alright then. Look after yourself.”

“You too.”

Beeping over the line indicated to you that he had hung up. Shoving your phone back into your coat pocket, you let your feet carry you to the till, where a young teenager dressed in a pale blue polo shirt and evergreen apron on top greeted you with a nervous smile.

Must have been new, or had some sort of social anxiety, from the way they avoided your eyes and fidgeted with their hands. “U-Um, hello. Welcome... What would you like?” the taller kid practically whispered, but you caught on to their words.

Sending a soft, warming smile, you answered, “can I have a buttered croissant with a mango and passionfruit iced tea, please? Actually, would you mind adding a chocolate muffin to that too?”

Nodding, they tapped the till, pressing various buttons before saying, “that’ll be 6,500 won, please.”

Pulled out your wallet and paid the employee. As you sat down, waiting on your order, you began to reminisce from when you used to be that age too--then again, it was not hard at all since it wasn’t too long ago.

Seven years ago, you were only 16, enjoying life just before things took a turn you never expected and you were never the same air-headed, happy-go-lucky kid you once were.

All you needed at the time was someone who was kind, who gave you a breath from the onslaught you faced all around you. Mingi was probably the only reason you’re still alive.

Thinking about the old days did more damage to you than you’d like to believe, but almost seemed impossible with the Dominic situation.

Being betrayed again hurt like hell, and although he wasn’t as bad as what you had experienced, he still broke your trust. Trust you tried to rebuild after all you went through the last time.

Thoughts you spent so long trying to get rid of grew back like weeds of the concrete walls you put up five years ago.

And despite what you tried to convince yourself and Mingi, you actually really liked the guy.

“Here you go, miss,” the young employee mumbled as he placed a tray with your order on it. Almost everything was right, except that there was a vanilla and chocolate chip muffin instead of a complete chocolate one.

Oh well, a muffin’s a muffin.

“Thank you,” you grinned, handing the teenager a tip of 10,000 won.

Their eyes widened at your strange generosity before hesitantly taking the money you held out between your index and middle fingers.

Your lips wrapped around the straw as you took a sip of your ice-cold drink. Strong tones of mango, with a hint of passionfruit, slight sweetness from honey and faint tang of fresh lemon.

Iced tea was something you had grown to love over the past five years, first time being too bitter and flavourful for you. Then again, the events prior left a bad taste in your mouth. Seonghwa was the one who helped you, always getting you an iced tea every time he went to a nearby coffee shop.

Learned quite quickly that your tongue was sensitive to heat after being so concerned how you refused piping-hot meals he cooked for you often. Waited until it cooled a lot before digging in.

No doubt the four boys would do anything for you--Mingi the most out of the rest since you wouldn’t be where you are without him--but sometimes you needed to breathe by yourself. Enjoying the little things you like croissants and muffins rather than focussing on your soon-to-be ex boyfriend cheating on you for a reason that eludes you.

That’s how the rest of the day goes.

Aimlessly walking, window-shopping, sight-seeing. Nothing registered in your mind but it was better than something negative.

Your phone was on silent, growing cold in your pocket from the lack of heat being transferred from your hand. Even then, you doubt anyone (except Dominic) would be texting you since you told them you wanted peace.

Before you realised it, the sun crawled above your head and began to set in the horizon, a clash of beautiful blues, oranges, pinks, and purples hovering in the sky. Lampposts along the streets lit up and the sky grew dark, yet that didn’t stop the hustle and bustle.

Irritated by the noises of people, you turned to an alleyway which had significantly less lighting but also significantly less humans.

As you walked, you were deep in thought, not thinking much of your surroundings. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine.

Someone was following you.

You were about to turn around and defend yourself--and you had no worries that you would lose. But then bright LED headlights of a hidden black SUV had highlighted the hair of a rather short person who stood in front of it.

Shocking electric blue stands brushed against his porcelain-smooth skin from light wisps of wind passing by. The same colour hair you realised had been barely peeking in your peripheral since the airport.

Next to a man you had very briefly met on you birthday dinner while searching for the bathroom.

Exactly how long have they been following you?

Though you chided yourself for not noticing it sooner--despite all the excuses of being ‘on a holiday’--you found yourself pondering. You had never met those two funky-haired people before in your life, and you sure as hell made sure any dangerous people couldn’t find you (not without going through one of the other boys first) so who exactly were these people?

Perhaps you were like a bee, drunk on the honey in your tea, or maybe you wanted to get your mind off the situation, needing a thrill at the moment.

You felt the need to destroy something--or at least toy with it for a bit--and these cocky assholes seemed perfect.

Either way, you relaxed your muscles (only a little, as to not raise suspicion of the young man before you).

One foot stepped behind you as you kept your eyes trained on his coco ones, only to rip them away a moment when you turned to ‘run’. As expected, something else tried to stop you. Another black SUV with blinding lights swerved into the other end of the alleyway as you tried to leave.

You’d prided yourself on good acting, and it always seemed to pay off. Right now, to sell the part of a scared girl, you stumbled backwards--planning to fall of the cobblestone path, but only to be saved by something hard.

The mysterious man’s chest, his hands holding your arms as support.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered in your ear, covering your mouth with a chloroformed cloth. You didn’t really put up much of a fight (to your standards, anyway) and succumbed to the strong chemical.

At first you were floating in a sea of black, unable to connect with your senses. Slowly, after moments of nothingness, you could feel the world materialise around you.

Soft fabric was cushioned beneath you, cradling your body with warmth. Light began to seep through your closed eyelids as the gentle, sweet smell of sugared almonds filled your nose with every deep inhale. And finally, a headache that began to pound harder with every pulse.

Grunting, you pried your eyes open, immediately noticing what appeared to be a shower room in front of you. There were two shower heads on each side, with only pillars of soft light embedded into the tiled wall rather than a proper partition. To add to the lack of privacy, the only material separating the shower room and the eyes of the bed was simply a thin pane of sliding glass which hid absolutely nothing.

“What kinda perv decided to design this monstrosity?”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked down on the bed you were lying in, thankfully still in the same cotton dress, phone no longer in its pockets. The mattress was significantly softer than the one at the hotel--yet another indicator that your kidnappers were rich.

On the tables dotted around the space were lilac candles. Most likely the culprit of the amazing scent in the room.

Your eyes then caught the daylight peeking through the curtains, enlightening the room in a soft apricot glow. “Fuck,” you muttered, remembering Yunho’s words in the previous call she had, “they’re gonna kill me for staying out.”

Pushing yourself off the illegally comfortable bed, you inched towards the only door you saw. Fingers wrapped around the cold metal handle and pushed down, finding it much to your surprise that it was actually unlocked. Pulled it open without hesitation, though making sure you peered out to see if there was anyone.

There wasn’t.

“Great security, guys,” you sighed, actually feeling disappointed in the lack of effort you had to put in while walking openly around. After all, it was the reason you let yourself be taken.

Then again, this could all be a trap.

Now that was exciting.

You let yourself become familiar with the surroundings upon one glance, noticing the obvious luxurious colour scheme of gold and cream that had your eyes rolling at the basic rich vibes it gave you.

Then you found your breath catching in your throat as you continued to explore, eyes frozen on a portrait hung up on a wall.

Though the fact that it was a portrait of you had initially shocked you, it wasn’t the defining feature that had your heart palpitating at a dangerous speed. Your hair was short again, a pixie cut, while you were sat on a beach that looked a lot like the one you visited in Santorini.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

In fact, the painting was an exact replica of you from five years ago, down to the clothing of ripped jeans and loose top you wore. You, from one of your darkest and lowest moments.

“Are you lost, babygirl?”

The same voice rang in your ears, repeating the only sentence you heard spill from his lips. When you turned around to confirm who it was, it was indeed the same man you saw.

The damn muscular guy, with pitch-black hair and a lock of platinum blonde brushing just above an eye.

The blood was rushing too fast, fear in your eyes no longer an act. Just who the fuck was this guy?

You took one step back, knees buckling instantly but before your brain could process it, the man had wrapped his arms around you, catching your body before hit the ground.

San could smell the delicate citrusy aroma wafting from your skin and he tried so hard to not bury his head in the crook of your neck, to kiss the area and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

Taking advantage of your frozen state, he lifted you up and place you on a nearby armchair, one beside a fireplace since he felt you were too cold for comfort.

Only until he had a ice cube pressed against your lips, did you snap out of it. “You should have it. Maybe you had a bad reaction to the chloroform. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Head turning the other way, your guarded eyes stayed locked on him rather than your painting behind his form. “English.”

“Why? You spoke perfectly good Korean at the dinner two days ago,” he said, pressing the ice cube onto your mouth once more.

“Simply because I feel more comfortable with English,” you remarked, swatting away his hand. “And stop putting that on my mouth.”

Sighing, he dropped the cold, melting cube back in the glass of whiskey before putting a bit of distance between the two of you. He could feel himself getting angry, that you won’t trust him, that you won’t listen to him.

But could he blame you?

“I feel like explanations are in order,” you said, narrowing your eyes down on his figure, flickering firelight resting on him to make him seem even more good-looking, shadows casted to make each feature appear sharper. But that wasn’t what you were focused on.

You wanted to deduce this stranger by his body language.

Stood tall, maintaining good eye contact, showed that he was confident. Classic black suits--expensive by the look of the fabric--showed that he as rich. Tattoos littering the skin of his hand showed a bit of a bad-boy nature. And the aura he emitted was that of a leader.

Corner of your lips twitching, you realised who--or what--he might be. The boss of a fairly powerful crime syndicate.

San, on the other hand, couldn’t see what you were thinking as you looked at him. Did you think he was as hot as he did you? Fuck, he hoped so--clearly not understanding how a normal person would react in such a situation.

“Hello? Earth to whoever the hell you are?”

“If you want answers, you certainly won’t be getting them if you act like a brat.”

Scoffing, you tilted you head, eyes boring into him with a cold glaze coving them. Like a lifeless doll. “Then how do you suggest I act then? Hmm? After seeing that you’ve been stalking me for the last five years,” you nodded towards coloured canvas, growing more unsettled every time you looked at it.

“Fair point,” he said, taking a seat on the chair opposite you. “But you should know that I haven’t been doing that. Stalking you, I mean.”

“The fuck do you call that creepy-ass portrait, then?”

“I call it a precious memory.” San shifted his focus from your gaze to the flames lazily dancing on charred wooden embers. Tongue swiped over his lips before chuckling, almost bitterly. “Doubt you’ll believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

Lips pursed, you sat quietly as you listened to his story.

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin ,

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thegirlisuedtobe · 3 years ago

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sequel to this post because yall really liked the colour analysis. I have more thougthts that I didnt think would fit with the other post so here yall go

glinda’s analogous colour scheme (in relation to green as a symbol for her support towards elphaba) dominates her costume for the most part of wicked. the two costumes she wears that are absolutely out of line of this motif is her shiz uniform and her popular dress.

lets put away the shiz unform for another post and focus in on the pink party dress. since this is another colour theory post i want to examine how pink is used to create a connection between glinda and elphie. and of course the designer could have just chosen pink just because its a feminine colour and suits glinda’s girlishness, but I would like to give susan hilferty more credit because of one important thing in wicked’s costume history. the dress was originally meant to be blue.

now if we take the previous post’s colour analysis into account, blue is again analogous to green (meaning that they sit side by side on the colour wheel) and the oz dust ball leading into popular is all about elphie and glinda’s reconciliation. it would make sense from a design point of view that glinda should be wearing blue or at least something that’s harmonious with green to, in effect, show how they’ve become close. but the dress was chosen to be pink instead.

now if u will let me put my tinfoil hat on, I have a theory as to why. the fact that it was pink and not red or orange or purple is what is important here. first of all, pink is almost complimentary to green. and in this case “complimentary” in colour theory means to be opposite each other on the colour wheel, it can create harmony and contrast. the two colours make the other pop or standout or become more bolder than it by itself (and pink is just red and white, with red being directly oppostie green). she isn’t harmonious or side by side with green but she is still complimentary to it. they’re equal but at this point they’re still opposites, they still have different perspectives on the world and what they value. But in some way, though they are direct opposites, they’re very much still comparable and corresponding to each other.

the second, is because pink is simultaneously a garish and flashy colour. it calls attention to one’s self, it’s eye catching and depending on the saturation of the shade can be unflattering. not unlike having green skin. (okay hear me out as a woc LMAO, ik these two things are not the same skjdfgj but stick with me through the colour theory).

elphaba wears her most skin revealing dress during the oz dust ballroom through to popular. this is the part of the show where we see the most of her greenness, her arms, shoulders and her upper chest are bare. contrast this to all of elphaba’s costumes, they’re all always covering everything but her hands and her face. This is the most that we will see of her green skin.

(and again disclaimer these two things are not comparable irl but for the sake of this analysis) glinda sticks out just as much as elphie does when she wears the pink dress. that garrish, bright and almost fluroscent colour is as eye catching as elphaba’s skin. they’re both in that ballroom as the center of attention. notice how everyone at the ball (with the exception of fiyero but his costume is pretty muted either way) is wearing white and black. The two people who have the most eye catching appearances are elphaba and glinda.

calling back to “wicked is gay” (because damn like literally popped off on the analysis, please go watch on youtube), glinda, despite being surrounded by people is just as lonely as elphaba. because she is always put on a pedestal by her peers they can’t see her as an equal and thus aren’t able to provide a friendship found on mutual vulnerability and understanding. so it’s important in their reconciliation that the two of them are singled out of the crowd.

they are both equally seperated from the aspect of community and friendship based on equality. glinda cannot find anyone else who stands out of the crowd in the same way she does other than elphaba. they are equally striking in their environments but are also complimentary to each other, despite being the exact opposite.

when glinda takes the center of the ballroom and asks to join in, dancing elphaba’s dance moves, she understands in that moment that elphaba feels the same exact pressure of other people’s gaze, and how lonely it is to stand apart in a crowd, prompting her to do something uncharacteristic, and to risk her social reputation for a chance at a genuine connection.

that’s why glinda says that pink and green go good together. because they compliment each other, because they’re equal together, because by standing together do they make the other bolder.

#me myself and i #wicked #wicked musical #gelphie #disclaimer i love pink btw

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socialxcatastrophe · 4 years ago

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Prom

Pairing: Hinata x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff- A tiny tease of smut >~<

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,040

Summary: You going to prom with Hinata.

A/N: First Tumblr story. I’ve been working on this foreverrrr, @peaxhcringe finally made me finish and of course helped me when I got stuck because she’s cool. I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know if you want a smut part two. ;)

~~~

“No, I have no idea what I’m going to wear!” You said disappointingly to your best friend and Karasuno’s team manager Kiyoko.

She pushed up her glass on the bridge of her nose and stared off in concentration.

“I know what you’re thinking, don’t worry it’s a not a money thing! I just can’t find one I really like.” You hated lying to her but if she knew you had been running low on funds she’d never stop until you let her help.

She sighed before pointing at the boys who were currently preparing for their practice game against Nekoma next week with a group of guys you hadn’t seen before.

“You idiot!” Kageyama yelled chasing around your boyfriend of 6 months, Hinata.

Hinata squealed bolting across the gym fleeing the scene of the crime. His eyes locked with yours as he had made his way towards the entrance which inevitably caused him to lose his focus and fall flat onto his face.

You giggled covering your lips as Hinata’s bright red face stayed buried on the floor.

“It’s no fun when you punish yourself,” Kageyama said before throwing a volleyball at the base of his neck.

“Hey!” Hinata’s voice echoed as he turned around scowling as Kageyama walked further away.

You walked over to him helping him get off his feet before rubbing your thumb across his cheek that had started to bruise.

You smiled pressing a soft kiss against it before saying, “You really have to be more careful, that’s the third time you’ve fallen this week when I come by.”

He blushed while rubbing the back of his neck, “I know but you’re distracting.”

His arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into a tight hug before pulling you across the shiny wooden floor.

“You know Y/N there is only less than a week left until prom, have you found a dress?”

He sat down on the bench and Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up as he was called in and the team switched positions letting him serve.

You sighed as Hinata raised his water bottle chugging down the rest.

“I can’t find one I really like.”

Kiyoko looked at me sadly a few feet from the bench. She knew you had been hiding something as you weren’t the kind of person to not be satisfied with all the dresses I had seen.

Hinata’s face dropped and he laid his head on your shoulder looking up at me with puppy-dog eyes. “You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed hard before saying yes and trying to change the subject.

He continued to frown and grabbed your hand in his before sitting up and scooching closer to you as they continued the game. We watched as Yamaguchi hit his serve and the ball flew across the court. I watched as Hinata’s eyes followed the ball’s every movement his hand gripping yours tighter as the opposing side knocked it back across the court.

“You know, I’m gonna be the ace one day,” he whispered his eyes focused on his team scattered across the floor, “and I want you to be there to watch!” he finished his eyes locking with yours.

Your face turned a bright red and you hid your face in his shoulder, mumbling “I know you will be” while Kiyoko let out a small chuckle from behind us. You just wish you were someone worthy enough to be by his side.

~TimeSkip 3 days before prom~

“Y/N! It’s beautiful!” Kiyoko gasped as you stepped out of the dressing room.

Your h/l hair was pinned back its h/c waves contouring your face as you spun around in a cyan floor-length gown. The top was a strapless heart shape design connected to the long straight bottom with a variety of rhinestones in between.

“I love it.” You whispered staring at yourself in the full mirror across from you. Your e/c fluttered as you looked yourself up and down admiring the design.

Suddenly, your eyes stopped as you reached for the price tag.

“Maybe I should keep looking…” You said rushing back to the changing room before Kiyoko moved in front of you blocking your way.

“Absolutely not.” Her hands ran across the pricetag before nodding in approval. “I’ll buy it.”

“What!” You shrieked grabbing it from her hands. “There’s no way I’m letting you buy this it’s too much!”

She sighed pushing up her glasses before saying, “Y/n I can afford it, you never let me do anything for you and I want this night to be special, I remember my first dance and I want you to remember yours.”

Your e/c eyes started to tear up as you jumped forward wrapping your arms around her.

“Thank you.” You whispered sniffling against her uniform.

“Of course, Y/n.”

~TimeSkip 3 hours before Prom~

Kiyoko pulled back your h/l h/c slowly curling the edges and letting them fall against your soft s/c skin.

As the final hair fell, the door to her apartment swung open with a smiling Tanaka holding a bouquet of lilac flowers to match her long lavender dress with a medium slit tracing the edge of her pale thighs. He matched by wearing a purple tie against his dark tuxedo. Behind him popped out Nishinoya in an orange tux with a black-tie smiling followed by Asahi in a regular black tux with a white tie.

“Oh, hey we just finished.” She said unplugging the curler and walking over to Tanaka whose face lit up as she smiled taking the flowers.

“Woah Y/n you look great!” Noya said followed by Asahi who hovered over him smiling as Noya’s excitement filled the room.

“You think so?” You said spinning around in front of the wooden vanity where Kiyoko had done your hair.

“He’ll love it.” Asahi said seemingly reading your mind.

You smiled whispering a “Thank you” before following Tanaka and the rest of the gang to the car.

“A limo!” You squealed running up to the shiny exterior.

“I know a guy.” Tanaka’s older sister said, rowing down the dark window on the driver’s side smiling as we gathered near the door.

“Big sister is the best!” Noya said excitedly.

We smiled getting in the limo, its red seats stretched out before us.

“How did you guys afford this?” You whispered picking a seat further away from them letting the couples sit together.

Tanaka smiled pointing to himself “I worked out a deal!”

His sister turned around with an eyebrow raised, “A deal to do my chores for the next 3 months.”

“Why would you say that!” Tanaka whined, hiding against Kiyoko, who rolled her eyes hiding a small smile.

By the time we had got there, Sugawara and Daichi were already by the doors waiting for us and they both had on matching blue suits with black bow ties.

“Welcome to the party!” Suga said, smiling as we all shuffled in.

“Have fun tonight, but don’t stay out too late. We have our practice game against Nekoma tomorrow, now let’s have the time of our lives!” Daichi’s voice rang out loud, a sense of pride behind it.

You smiled walking over to the punch bowl where Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were.

“Y/n!” Yamaguchi excitedly leaned forward in a yellow suit with a white bow tie while Tsukishima leaned against the table in his coral-colored suit with a white bow tie to match Yamaguhci’s.

“Hey.” Tsukishima said

“Hey, guys!” You said, pouring a glass of crimson-colored punch into one of the clear cups nearby.

“Tadashi, I’m bored, can we leave.” Tsuki said, laying his head on his shoulder.

I giggled as Yamaguchi a.k.aYams or Tadashi for Tsuki started to lecture him before a flash of orange in the distance caught your eyes.

Hinata walked in through the gym's doors his hair spiked in its normal fashion but his skin was covered in a black tux with a bright red bow tie and in his hand was a single red rose matching the flush behind his cheeks.

Following behind him was Kageyama in a white suit with a dark black tie who stood next to Yachi who was in a short, ruffled black dress with a white flower tucked behind her ear.

Hinata’s eyes locked with yours from across from the room and his mouth dropped to the floor as his eyes started to move up and down your body. You made your way over to him through the crowd stopping a few feet in front of him.

“Hey-”

“Y/n,” he said, cutting you off, “you look b..eau..tiful…” His speech came out in fragments as he looked at you. Your face grew a bright red as your hands laid against the edges of your dress that trailed slightly behind me.

“Thank you.” You whispered looking down at your matching heels in embarrassment.

His hand swiftly moved to your chin forcing your eyes to meet his again. His other hand pulled yours forward putting the rose in your hands.

Your breath hitched as he started to smile and leaned forward pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

For a moment your eyes were locked on each other before Kageyama waved his hand between us.

“Shouldn’t the newest couple be heading over there?”

We looked over as Daichi and Suga who were making their way to the dance floor soon followed by everyone else.

You both hadn’t noticed the slow song that had begun to play.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, kissing your free hand.

You laughed pulling him to the middle of the floor.

Being the same height as Hinata was probably the easiest part of the relationship as your arms wrapped around his neck the rose hanging delicately between your fingers. His arms wrapped around your waist as you moved slowly in sync with the beat.

“It’s beautiful.” You said pulling one hand between you both, twirling around the rose.

Hinata blushed as you and him watched the rose spin between you. This Town played behind you as Hinata’s face grew into a bright smile before he started to bite the side of his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

You nodded a pink flush under the skin of your cheeks.

He leaned forward, his lips even with yours as pressed against them. The soft and delicate touch, as if not to break you, caused your heart to swell.

His hands moved to the sides of your arms his fingertips leaving goosebumps against your skin. The kiss grew darker as the song started to change the beat speeding up as the new lyrics replaced the empty sound.

He looked at you differently as he pulled away.

“Hinata?” You whispered, concerned, never seeing this side before.

He suddenly leaned forward pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his breath dancing on your neck.

A familiar feeling washed over as you ached to get closer to him. You didn’t want this moment to end. You could stand here, dancing forever in Hinata arms.

Kageyama walked over to us as Hinata pulled away, Yachi’s petite figure racing to keep up with him. Hinata groaned aloud as you both were interrupted.

“King and Queen of prom pick are about to start, if we miss it Daichi will make us run around the school fifty times let’s go short stacks.”

You stuck out your tongue at his ‘clever’ nickname grabbing Hinata’s hand in yours.

“He’s right, last time I made you late to practice Daichi threatened to make me run with the team, regardless of me just visiting, imagine what he will do if we both miss this.”

Hinata’s eyes grew wide and nodded letting you drag him to the corner of the gym where a makeshift stage was small enough to leave plenty of room throughout the area.

Since the room had darkened it was no surprise when a small spotlight lit up the stage, the music faded into the background and you held Hinata’s hand tightly, anxious to see who had won.

“Good evening Karasuno High!” Takeda yelled in excitement, accidentally so loud the microphone screeched.

He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks warming as a few students giggled from the crowd after the sound had stopped.

“I-I my bad guys...anyways who’s ready to give away some crowns!”

The crowd cheered as the nominees stepped forward. So many couples stood on the stage it was hard to see who was who.

“As you know voting took place over a month ago but today these students finally get what they’ve been waiting for!”

The band walked into the gym, a drumroll set to play as Takeda clumsily ripped open the envelope containing their names.

His face grew brighter as his eyes scanned across the card now in his hands.

“For the first time in Karasuno High history, the prom kings are Daichi Sawamura and Kōshi Sugawara!”

The team and you screamed at the top of our lungs as Tanaka and Noya ran on stage jumping on the two as they entered from the back of the crowd.

Kageyama smiled and Hinata jumped up and down screaming at the top of his lungs. Yachi and Kiyoko giggled and clapped while Yam’s face grew into excitement while Tsuki turned his face slightly away, hiding the small smile forming on his face.

Your smile took over your face as you watched Daichi and Suga hug on the stage, the team and your cheers drowning out the rest of the gym. Takeda places the larger crown on Daichi and the smaller on Suga, Daichi leaned over and kissed the brim of his cheek smiling brighter.

“That’s gonna be us one day.” Hinata says smiling, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.

The rest of prom went by quickly, Hinata and you were growing closer every second of the night.

The gym started to slowly filter out, more and more students leaving, as we slowly helped Takeda clean up the mess.

You looked up and realized the clock was already half past twelve. Daichi and Suga left first, beckoning the rest of us to leave soon as well. Next was Tsuki who was being dragged by Yams towards the entrance after saying something about ice cream. Noya and Asahi left with Tanaka and Kiyoko, taking Kageyama and Yachi with them when Hinata insisted on walking you home since he lived only two blocks away and your house was much closer to the school than Kiyoko’s.

As we walked out, Hinata grabbed your hand, holding it tighter every time someone else looked at us.

“You’re so protective.” You say before sticking your tongue out at him when his cheeks flushed.

“It’s your job.” He said innocently before noticing how you had slowed down.

“What’s wrong?” he said quickly jumping in front you, stopping you from going further without telling him.

His eyes instantly flew down to your feet as you moved one behind the other.

“It’s nothing, really my feet are just a little sore.”

His eyes stared at your feet for a moment, contemplating before leaning down, pulling them off of your feet.

“Now hold these.”

You quickly grabbed the shoes, your feet resting softly against the pavement before Hinata motioned for you to climb on his back.

“Hinata I-”

“I insist, Y/N”

You sighed before climbing onto his back, his arms tucked under your legs.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say muffled against his hair.

He chuckles, his laughter rumbling against your skin.

“I really want to Y/N.”

Your face flushes and he moves forward his feet dragging across the ground slowly as he watched them as if he were afraid he’d drop you.

Your house was getting closer now, just at the end of the street, right across from the next streetlight making your path bright ahead. You watched as Hinata’s feet grew even slower on every step. He finally stopped in front of your house, he gently put you down, the streetlight shining bright enough that you could see the dark cricles starting to form under his eyes as he stared at your front door.

“I don’t want to leave.” He whispered, looking back at you before his eyes shifted back to yours, his face suddenly bright again. “You’re coming to the practice game tomorrow right, I’ll save a spot for you next to Kiyoko, and I’ll win for you!”

His sudden burst of energy made you smile as you nodded leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, your face buried in his chest.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You say muffled against his soft tux.

“Me too.”

He went quiet for a minute, the pavement growing cold against your bare feet. You looked towards your door which was under a small roof protecting the entrance knowing you’d eventually have to go in.

“Y/N.”

Your face turned back to his, his eyes staring at you, dark like they had been after we kissed.

“Yes?” You say in a whispered voice.

“I-I love you.”

Your face instantly turned a smoldering red as he stared at you, waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry-”

“I love you too.” Your voice was louder this time as you leaned forward pressing your lips against his soft pink ones locking with yours.

He hugged you tightly his mouth smiling against your lips. You felt his heartbeat quicken the closer you got, making you suddenly wish you were closer.

His arms started to trace the edge of your dress, his finger moving slowly against the material around your waist before following it to the bottom of your hips. You both had started to move out of the circle of light around you, where the street grew darker. You had only been together for six months but you felt closer to Hinata more than anyone in your life, even if you weren’t the best at expressing it.

His kiss slowly stopped as he breathed heavily against your neck. “Nekoma suddenly doesn’t seem so important.”

“What does..?” You whispered against his jaw.

He groaned, his eyes growing darker than you had ever seen them before.

“You.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hinata #shoyo hinata #smut #fanfic #anime #karasuno #hinata x reader

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reedalert · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort

Requested by: anon

Pairing: Data x reader (can be interpreted both as platonic or romantic)

Prompt: “Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no?“

Notes: I changed the prompt a bit to leave out the “uh, no” part because I thought it fit my idea better that way, and I also decided to double down on the onesie theme (me=stupid), I hope you still enjoy!

You were walking down the hallway happily. Your shift had ended, you had a nice dinner. Now, you decided, was time to visit Data in his quarters.

You always knew surprising him with your presence would be a good time. You always managed to arrive right when he was experimenting with a new idea, a new way to express his humanity. Sneezing, having a beard, what could it be this time?

You rang the door of his quarters. When the doors opened, you entered. You twisted your head, searching for the android in his room. There he was, sitting at his desk, in front of his personal terminal, as usual. His bright eyes found your gaze when he tilted his head up to see who his visitor was. Spot, his cat, sat ever peacefully in his lap. Everything seemed fine for a moment.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greeted you.

His brow furrowed slightly when he noticed your mouth was agape and your eyes were scanning him up and down in a desperate manner.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“Data… are you… is that a cat onesie? And wait… is THE CAT in a onesie?” You searched for the words to properly construct a question.

Indeed, he was wearing a feline onesie, matching the colour of Spot’s orange fur. The fluffy fabric covered all but his face, the hood even having beautifully crafted details, like ears, a small pink nose and whiskers.

Spot, on the other hand, was wearing a small onesie that resembled Data’s ops yellow uniform, complete with a little felt combadge of its own.

You struggled to contain your laughter by that point, so you just let it all out, much to Data’s confusion.

��Yes, it is.” He stated. If you didn’t know better, you’d have said that he felt offended by you not taking him seriously.

“But…. Why?” Was all you managed to ask while wiping tears away from your eyes.

“I was researching traditions of cat owners in the 21st century and, among various other things, I found that humans often wore pieces of clothing like this one,” he gestured to his onesie “mostly for comfort. I was curious to try it out so I replicated one. I also found that the so called “cat parents” also dressed their pets in different costumes, so I decided it would be appropriate for Spot to wear something that looked like my uniform. I designed the pattern myself. Was my research incorrect?”

“Well, Data, I wouldn’t know. I have to say I haven’t brushed up on my 21st century history.” You said with a snarky smile on your face. “So, do you feel comfortable?”

“Y/N, I am incapable of feeling comfort.” He answered. “However, based on my knowledge of human behaviour, I think I understand why they thought it was comfortable.”

You let out a small chuckle.

Then you noticed Spot settling in Data’s lap, curling up in a ball and purring.

“Spot seems to be enjoying it.” Data observed.

“I doubt he likes his own outfit.” You remarked. “But your onesie does look very fluffy.”

A splendid idea popped into your head. You quickly moved behind Data’s chair and, before he could object, you hugged him from behind, cuddling into the crook of his neck and the comfortable fabric.

“Hmmm, I can confirm, it feels amazing.” You murmured.

Data didn’t even try to move, having now both Spot and you to care for.

“It is good that you feel that way. You can stay here, if you wish.”

#star trek #star trek imagine #star trek fanfiction #star trek the next generation #star trek the next generation imagine #data #data imagine #data x reader

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dinfeanoriel · 5 years ago

Text

The Hand

A little fic that has absolutely no point to it. Enjoy!

~~~~

“Don’t tell me this place is seriously called the Crack Pot Inn…” The Knight of the rag-tag group of Heroes, Warrior, muttered aloud when his gaze landed on the most-welcome, if somewhat run-down, inn. The Links had warped into another world and were now working to uncover whose Hyrule they had entered.

So far, no luck.

But seeing as it was late into the night, Time had decided it was time to retire. It was by a meager stroke of luck Wolfie had sniffed out a village.

“Clearly not the only thing on crack,” Came Legend’s quick-witted reply.

Wild smothered a snort. The snarky Hero was filled to the brim with sarcastic retorts and barbed jabs. He never failed to use them, either. They were quick to fly from his tongue, taking, perhaps, .1 seconds to fire.

They came faster than Wild could unleash a flurry of attacks, and that, he found impressive.

“Boys, behave,” The leader of the nine murmured, his low voice carrying into the night.

“Sure thing, Pops,”

Wolfie huffed. Wind figured it was a laugh in disguise. They followed after Time as he began the descent into the village located at the bottom of the hill. Their eyes took in everything of the quiet and slumbering place...

The worn buildings, cobblestone roads, dark alleyways, and bright colors.

Incredibly bright colors. Curtains were a shade of pinks, purples, blues, and oranges Hyrule had never before seen and wondered how anyone could find attractive. The paint job was something that made even Wild cringe.

Some houses had polka dots, others multi-colored stripes, and some littered with swirls and optical illusions. The patterns were horrendous. He looked long and hard for any potion shops and places to restock. It was a difficult feat, since the abhorrent color combinations were making his eyes hurt.

“The Batty Emporium?” Wind’s soft, incredulous, voice pierced the silence that had fallen.

Legend looked vaguely impressed.

“This place just keeps getting better.”

Time quirked an eyebrow at the...questionable village and its peculiar taste in style. The sheer lavishness and overabundance of decoration…

“In all my long life and journeys, I have never stumbled across such a remarkably horrendous sight…” He remarked mostly to himself. All of the Links heard him and couldn’t agree more.

You’re telling me… Twilight groused in wolf form. And he’d thought Fyer and Falbi were...unique individuals…

That was putting it lightly.

There were streamers tied pole-to-pole. Straight across, zig-zag, diagonal or in some other unusual unrecognizable design. Elaborate and exaggerated posters decorated windows, market stalls, and doors. The stalls themselves were bright and sparkly. A never-ending stream of cringeworthy sights for the Links to abhor.

Then came the game, commenced by Wild and continued by the rest. Find the most outrageous, individualistic, and… unique… business.

“The Nutty Almond,” The Hero of the Wilds pointed at the sign hanging from above the door of the nearest building.

Sky hid a grin. Of course Wild spotted The Nutty Almond first.

“The Berserker,” Wind piped in next, gesturing to an armory they passed. The weapons on display glinted in the moonlight, drawing everyone’s attention for a brief moment.

“Clever,” Warrior deadpanned, though he made note of its location.

“Daffy’s Wud?” Hyrule’s brow creased at the strange name. The place itself was tall and lean, as if someone had taken the building and crammed it between two others. It was a pale purple with fluorescent pink and blotches of orange, green, and yellow mingled in.

All and all, a discomfiting sight to see. Legend couldn’t help but release a short bark of laughter.

Sky looked around with a pained and disturbed expression. This place was far too happy-go-lucky for his tastes. He preferred the wilderness over this!

“This whole place is mad!” The words slipped from him before Sky could stop himself and the Links turned to him in surprise. Sky’s cheeks burned a brilliant shade of red and he hid his face behind his hands, “Sorry, sorry, it just came out!” He apologized, flustered and mortified.

Four chuckled with a shake of his head, patting Sky’s back sympathetically. The older teen peeked down at him between fingers.

“We were all thinking it anyway, Sky,” He assured the kindhearted Hero, “No need to be embarrassed for stating the truth.”

Hyrule shuddered, loosely hugging himself.

“Well, I don’t like it,” He admitted in a soft whisper, “It weirds me out.”

“It weirds us all out,” Warrior muttered, lips curling back in disgust when he saw another intricately designed and flamboyant painting hanging in a display window, “Hylia’s sake...I never imagined such a place even existed.”

“These bright, flashy, colors make my eyes hurt,” Wind complained, rubbing at his aching eyes.

“Oh, good!” Wild breathed a sigh of relief, “I’m not the only one!” Although it was night, Wild still found himself squinting against the onslaught of flashy, neon, colors. The moonlight reflecting off the bright colors and sparkling stalls did nothing but blind them.

Did they have to use glow-in-the-dark paint? Not to mention the optical illusions were a little over the top and giving him a pounding headache.

“Can you imagine how it must look when its sunny?” Hyrule questioned, wincing at the thought.

Legend’s face screwed up,

“You’re going to make me sick.”

“I already am…”

“Yeah, you definitely aren’t looking too good there, Sky,” Warrior gently gripped Sky’s arm when the teen started turning green, “Let’s hurry on up to that inn there.”

“We’re staying there?” Legend didn’t possibly think this night could get any worse.

Time turned to the incredulous Hero with a raised eyebrow, “Do you have any better ideas?”

Wind timidly raised a hand, “We camp in the woods?”

None could deny the hopefulness in his tone. It was preferable. None of the Links would object, all more than willing to choose the cold, ominous, woods over this...fascinating place.

Four flicked his wrist, pointing to Wind and helpfully supplied, “It’s free of charge.”

“Even Warrior has better taste than this,” Legend declared with certainty. Said offended Knight snapped his head in Legend’s direction, indignantly crying,

“Hey!”

Time rolled his good eye, the corner of his lips twitching upwards minutely. Already, he could sense the coming storm,

“What?” Legend bent his arms at the elbow, palms up, “You have to admit, the scarf-”

“Oh, and a skirt’s so much better than my scarf?” Warrior snarked back, “At least it covers up more than yours does.” He tugged at his scarf meaningfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Four turned to disguise his mirth as a cough. His shoulders shook as he vainly attempted to recompose himself. Hyrule laughed to himself, Wild snickered, and Wind tried his hardest not to giggle.

“Boys,” Time warned, but the laughter in his voice ruined the effect. Truly, never a dull moment. Not one day passed them by without some sort of entertainment. “Lower your voices,” At the least.

Legend obeyed the leader, lowering his voice threateningly,

“I will kill you, Warrior,” He promised, eyes glinting sharply.

Warrior smirked, nonchalantly tossing an arm over Legend’s shoulder, “Sure you will.” Legend bared his teeth, fists clenched, “You’d better sleep with one eye open tonight, Pretty Boy,”

Time shook his head in fond exasperation, mentally noting not to assign the two Heroes to the same room. He paused before the door to the inn, extending a hand to rest it atop the illustrious handle. He turned to fix the Heroes with a stern, pointed, look before carefully pushing the door open.

The Links could only hope the inside was better looking than the outside...

The tallest of the group had barely taken a step when a shrill screech squealed from above. Time’s head snapped up and his vision went black as a weight slammed atop his head and water soaked him to the bone.

Behind him, he heard Sky yelp followed by a thump.

Wolfie was immediately on guard, crouching low to the ground with a fearsome snarl that ricocheted through the air, enveloping the entirety of the room.

Warrior’s hand instinctively snatched his sword, slipping it halfway out of its sheath ready to jump to Time’s protection. His fierce and focused expression slowly faded, morphing into one of pure bafflement as he and the others took the time to process what exactly had taken place.

Time stood in the middle of the doorway, a metal bucket covering his head, and fingers loosely curled round the handle. Water saturated his hair, dripping from the ends and onto the wooden planks below. Rivulets raced through the patterns of his golden armor, creating a multitude of puddles on the floor.

Legend blinked owlishly.

He slowly raised a finger,

“Did you- did we…” He shook his head, “Did we just get pranked?”

Time serenely shut his good eye, expelling a steady breath before reaching up to lift the bucket off his head. He looked to find a string attached to it and at the end of it, a rubber cucco with bulging eyes and a gaping yellow beak.

He tugged it off with an unappreciative frown. His good eye slid down to where Wolfie was still baring his teeth and rumbling deep in his chest. He tossed the rubber cucco, letting it bounce off Wolfie’s snout then onto the floor. Wolfie’s snarl shuddered and broke off in surprise and he raised cobalt blues swimming with betrayal up to meet Time’s faintly amused one.

With a disgruntled rumble, Wolfie lifted a paw and rubbed at his snout indignantly.

“Ooooh hoo hoo!” A sudden burst of overly amused, entirely-too-enthusiastic laughter exploded somewhere ahead of them and the Heroes jumped slightly at the unexpected sound. A short, stocky, man dressed in the most bizarre outfit possible stepped into the lamplight, clapping his hands loudly together. His green eyes were wide, brimming with unshed tears, and his face lit up with delight, “I have been waiting for this moment! I had that set up since evening!”

Time leveled the obnoxiously red-haired man with a cool stare- one Warrior, Legend, and Wild recognized and still shirked from. For once, however, it wasn’t directed towards them.

The man was hardly affected, “You must admit-” He swiped at a tear, beaming brilliantly, “That was plenty good!” “Indeed,” A tight-lipped smile curved Time’s lips and his single eye became a pool of promises for retribution he would be unable to attain. The Older Hero was only becoming increasingly unsettled the longer they lingered in this abominable place.

The man slapped his knee, still guffawing at Time’s misfortune, and Wolfie growled in warning. This caused the innkeeper to pause, appraise the proud, displeased, beast and frown.

“Ah, I must apologize,” He jovially began with an air of faux-politeness, gesturing to Wolfie airily, he said, “Dogs are not allowed in the inn.”

DOG?!

A scandalized yip escaped Wolfie and Sky lunged when the wolf made to show the innkeeper exactly what this ‘dog’ was capable of. “Hey there, now, Wolfie,” Sky strained, arms wrapped around Wolfie’s strong neck and anchoring him into place. Time merely watched the scene unfold, heaving a tired sigh. It had most certainly been a long week. Not the longest, but a long one for certain.

Everyone was at their wit’s end and exhausted.

“That dog is a wolf, good sir,” Warrior calmly but firmly inserted, stepping up to Time’s side. The innkeeper looked to him and Warrior fought to steel himself from cringing. The man’s outfit was utterly outrageous. His incredibly yellow pants ballooned near the ankles and his sleeves billowed atrociously around the wrists. There were colorful polka dots littering his...suit? Warrior was unsure whether or not this peculiar outfit had a name. The buttons on the shirt were much too large and oddly shaped to be normal. And the high collar?

He’d thought Agitha and Ravio were eccentric, but this was by far the worst Warrior had ever seen.

“He is well-trained and my good friend’s loyal companion,” The Knight indicated to a strained Wild.

The innkeeper raised a bushy eyebrow at the grumbling canine still held by Sky. The wolf reluctantly settled back on his haunches, but he still looked ready to tear everything to pieces.

“Well-trained, hm?” There was a hint of a challenge in his tone. It was evident he didn’t believe them.

Wild nodded vigorously from where he stood beside Warrior,

“He is! Watch-” To which the mischievous Hero spun on his heel and proceeded to order, “Down boy!”

If looks could kill, the one Wolfie seared Wild with would most definitely have incinerated him on the spot.

Twilight would make him pay for it later, but Wild figured it would be worth it.

With much grousing and griping, Wolfie made a show of reluctantly lowering himself onto the ground. He shifted until he was comfortable then cracked an eye open to pierce Wild unhappily,

“Roll over!”

Wolfie’s eye grew wide and he barked sharply in refusal.

Wild sternly placed his hands on his hips and tapped his foot once, “Roll over, Wolfie.”

Wolfie did.

“Yay, Wolfie!” Wind lunged and tackled the great beast with a hug, “You’re amazing!” Peals of pure, jubilant, laughter filled the air as Wind turned sparkling eyes at the innkeeper, “Isn’t he?”

The tone the youthful boy used was carefully constructed, almost daring the innkeeper to say otherwise. All in all, rather frightening to hear. Legend was, to say the least, impressed.

Wolfie’s previously irate demeanor deflated almost instantaneously at the Sailor’s bubbly self and he nudged Wind’s cheek with his nose.

Children would always be his weakness, he supposed.

The flamboyant innkeeper only shrugged, voice chipper and gratingly cheerful, “So long as he doesn’t cause any trouble, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to allow him to accompany you.”

“We thank you for your trouble,” Warrior graciously intervened before anyone else could, “After all, it is the least you could do to compensate for the stunt you previously pulled.”

The short man floundered for a second, waving his hands wildly in the air that it blatantly reminded Warrior and Legend of Ravio,

“Stunt?! That, my boy, was a masterpiece! An ingenious idea executed by yours truly! A brilliant mastermind!”

Wild eyed the deranged man uneasily. While accustomed to meeting outlandish, whimsical, and freakish people, the Hero was not at all fond of the village or the innkeeper. If everyone in the village were this...quirky, he wasn’t sure how he would survive.

He turned, not wanting to risk staying and discovering just how odd this village and its villagers could be, and made for the door. “I’m leaving. There are plenty of good trees outside to choose from-” But he didn’t get far when Warrior grasped the collar of his tunic and tugged him back,

“If we have to suffer, then you have to suffer,” The Knight groused goodnaturedly. Wild shot him a disturbed look, “You’re going to make us stay here?” He whispered, almost pleading with Warrior to say no.

In the background, Hyrule was bartering with the innkeeper, slowly but surely lowering the equally preposterous prices for their rooms.

“There’s a storm coming,” Warrior returned, lowering his voice in the same manner as Wild, “And from what you observed earlier, it’s going to be a bad one, so yes,” He nodded solemnly and with a slight grimace, “We’re stuck here for the night.”

Wild could only sigh and stare longingly at the door splattered with paint and other haphazard decorations.

~~~~

“A dog,” Twilight growled under his breath as he followed Time to their rooms, “Of all things, a dog?”

Time smothered a smile. Truly, nothing dug under Twilight’s skin more than being mistaken for a dog.

“Come now, Twi,” Wild interjected, lips twitching and laughter lacing his word, “It could be worse-” He attempted to appease the older teen when Twilight rounded on him with an intense stare that promised recompense, “And you-” Wild chuckled, a full-blown smile still visible for all to see.

“Before you say anything, I was saving your hide!”

“Down boy?”

Wild could only shrug, a hand cupping the back of his neck.

“Roll over?!”

“I had to play it off!” Wild defended himself with a laugh that would melt anyone’s heart.

“And you did so wonderfully,” Time assured him, much to Twilight’s dismay. His descendant’s jaw dropped before he collected himself with a stubborn shake,

“What? Old Man-”

Time planted a hand on Twilight’s head, disheveling his hair teasingly, “The innkeeper allowed you in, didn’t he?”

“Even if he hadn’t, I would have found a way in,” Twilight muttered unhappily, glowering at the far end of the hallway. The rest of the Heroes ambled after them, a safe distance away so neither of them would uncover the truth of Wolfie, “If there is one thing we Links are known for, it’s for entering without invitation.”

“Then people should lock their doors,” Wild suggested without an ounce of remorse. The amount of times he’d simply walked into people’s homes was innumerable.

“Perhaps,” Time murmured, shutting his eye against the atrocity of the paintings and decor of the corridor and listening to the whispering of Warrior, Legend, and Sky.

The draperies were a variety of blinding colors- some Time wondered how they succeeded in making.

“My headache is getting worse from this ghastly place,” Legend groaned, cradling his aching head. Sky was rubbing at his eyes, opening them into slits. He couldn’t physically bring himself to open them any wider.

“Stupid storm,” Wind grumped, crossing his arms with a pout, “Why did it have to come now?”

“With any luck, it’ll breeze right on by within a couple of hours,” Warrior hummed, glancing out the nearest window. Already, lightning was webbing across the dark expanse of the sky, illuminating the village below.

Wind perked up, “Does that mean we can leave afterwards?”

“Unfortunately, no,”

“Aw...”

“Don’t worry, bud, it’ll be morning before we know it,” Warrior said reassuringly, and Time could not deny the hopefulness in his tone.

“I hope so,” Came Hyrule’s quiet voice. Their group slowed when the three Heroes ahead of them came to a stop.

“Here we are,” Time announced, stopping in front of their given rooms, “We booked three for the night. Split accordingly.”

The Links did as they were told almost instinctively. Time, Twi, and Wild were in one, with Warrior, Sky, and Legend in another, then Hyrule, Four, and Wind.

Time nodded approvingly, tossing a set of keys to Warrior and Hyrule. Warrior caught it with ease, but unfortunately for Hyrule, they sprung off his hands and began their descent to the ground. He scrambled frantically to keep them from clattering on the wood, fearing he’d disturb any sleeping guests and snatched at air in a desperate attempt to catch them.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the key ring miraculously slipped onto his finger, sweat beading his forehead. Immediately afterwards, Hyrule shoved them into Four’s hand, unwilling to keep the keys longer than necessary.

Time sent him an apologetic look, to which Hyrule responded with a timid smile and wave of his hand. His poor face burned, red dusting his cheeks from the embarrassing display.

“We leave at seven and no later,” The leader informed the group. He received varying affirmative responses before they broke apart and disappeared into their selected rooms.

Wild’s eyes immediately lit up once his gaze landed on the most welcome sight in the entirety of the world- a bed.

Ugly comforter and equally hideous pillowcases aside, it was the greatest gift Wild could ask for.

Behind him, Twilight made a noise of frustration.

“Polka dots...Can’t escape them,”

Time snorted softly.

“I’m afraid not.”

Of the three beds, the only agreeable one was the green in the center. It was a deep, earthy, tone with dark blue polka dots and white sheets. Not too horrible. Time and Wild silently elected to give Twilight that bed.

The first was an extraordinarily faded red- bordering on pink- with bright orange polka dots and the third was a sunny yellow with orange, red, green, blue, and purple polka dots littered about the fluffy comforter.

What was with this place?

“I’ll take the one of the far end,” Wild piped up, breaking the contemplative silence that had fallen o’er their Leader as he attempted to choose between the lesser of two evils.

Time turned to fix Wild with a raised eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

Wild nodded with a small grin, “I’ve seen worse than an ugly, yellow, polka-dotted bed, Time. This will be nothing compared to what I’ve faced.” This earned him an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

“Then that leaves me with the first,”

Twilight looked between them, “Leaves you with..? I haven’t chosen..?”

Time walked past the confused Ordonian, knocking him lightly on the head with his fist,

“We chose for you, Pup,” He said by way of explaining. Well, Twilight wouldn’t complain. He wandered to his bed, reaching down to grasp the edge of the comforter tucked underneath the overstuffed pillow. He tugged, but the comforter refused to budge.

Twilight heaved a silent sigh of exasperation and annoyance.

“I hate this place...” He muttered darkly, yanking with all his might and ripping the comforter free. Time and Wild had already rid themselves of their weapons and packs, setting them aside with care. Twilight threw his own pack on the ground without a thought but couldn’t bring himself to change out of his tunic. He could care less if he slept in it.

He was about to crawl in and curl up when a muffled, startled shout filtered through the thick walls followed by a painful thump!

Time, Wild, and Twilight leaped to their feet, instinctively reaching for their weapons when an aggravated and alarmed voice hollered, “Why is there a CUCCO in my bed?!”

A short, huff of laughter escaped Wild before the teen attempted to stifle it.

“Where did it even come from?! Warrior, get rid of it!”

There was an indignant squawk that followed Legend’s exclamation.

“I am not going anywhere NEAR that thing, Legend! You’re on your own with this one!”

Time lifted a hand to his mouth to smother his laughter. Warrior’s voice had come from farther away, telling them the Captain had scrambled a safe distance away from their unwelcome guest.

“Sky!” Two identical calls were issued soon afterwards, “You love these things! Why don’t you get it?”

There was a softer, drowsier sound the Heroes knew to be Sky calmly talking to the paranoid Heroes rooming with him. Time imagined him gently coaxing the Cucco from Legend’s bed and offering his own.

After a few moments had passed, the excitement died down and Time figured it was safe to try and get some sleep before they left in a few hours. Thankfully, they didn’t have a surprise Cucco in their room...

At least, Time thought as he settled into his bed and drew the covers past his shoulders, he hoped there wasn’t.

~~~~

Hyrule expelled a forlorn sigh from where he sat against the headboard of his bed, knees drawn to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs, dark eyes flitting from a slumbering Wind to a sleeping Four.

He could tell from their constant shifting and moving that neither of his companions were resting well.

It was impossible to in this awful place.

Hyrule himself couldn’t bring himself to try and sleep. The reason? Because of the huge, wide-open, eye painted on the ceiling that looked capable of peering through one’s very soul and ensnaring it.

Just thinking about it made him shudder.

He tried his hardest not to look at it, but it was difficult not to! His eyes would instinctively snap up to peek at it then flit away. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the eye was looking right at him.

Not to mention that he needed to use the restroom badly. He jostled his foot, the mattress vibrating from the motion. Was it worth the risk of leaving the safety of this room to endure the ghastly and horrific sight he knew lingered in the hallways?

He sighed again, raking a hand through his hair and frowned. He might as well. He really did have to go.

Without giving himself a chance for second thoughts, Hyrule swiftly slipped from his bed and crossed the room to the door in record time. He turned the knob as silently as he could, cracking the door open slowly to ensure it didn’t creak and the wood didn’t croak beneath his feet.

He shut it behind him and turned to head down the corridor to where he knew the bathroom for this floor was located. He refrained from looking anywhere but the planks in front of him, counting his steps out of sheer boredom and a feeble attempt to distract himself from the atrocities surrounding him.

Before he knew it, he was standing before the bathroom door that had the largest possible handle he’d ever seen.

This was sure to become one of the most memorable time of his life- and not for any good or sentimental reasons.

The handle, Hyrule unnervingly found, resembled a tormented face with features contorted in pain, the handle for the nose, and mouth gaping open in a silent scream.

Not at all ominous...

Hyrule shut his eyes against it and extended a hand blindly to grasp at the knob and turn it. He heard an eerie groan as he pushed against the wood and slipped inside.

Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Hyrule tiredly clicked the door shut and dragged a sleeve across his forehead.

He wished they could leave this dreaded place. How anyone could sleep here was beyond him!

He supposed it could be worse and made to turn around when he heard the sound of nails clawing against wood, racing upwards and when he turned, heart leaping into his throat, he watched with disbelieving eyes as a ghostly white apparition came shooting out from the toilet.

“Paaaaaaaaper....paaaaaapeeeerrrr....”

Hyrule had never shrieked so shrilly in his entire life.

~~~~

A rumbling boom reverberated throughout the inn.

“Hyrule!”

The Heroes burst from their assigned rooms and into the hallway, weapons drawn and expressions fierce. They were ready to storm to Hyrule’s aid, worry clawing its way to their hearts and sudden protectiveness taking root.

Whoever had threatened or frightened Hyrule would pay severely for their heinous crime.

An earthy green and brown blur dashed past Warrior and at Time, slamming into the leader and revealing itself to be a breathless and traumatized Hyrule.

Time instinctively caught him, demanding at once,

“What is it, Hyrule?”

Hyrule never once loosened his grip on Time, turning slightly to point down the corridor to say,

“Hand!” He breathlessly managed, all too relieved to be with his companions, “Ghost hand in the toilet!”

Sky perked up curiously, “Peoni?”

At the same time, Legend and Time also uttered names the Heroes didn’t recognize,

“Hand?”

“???”

“Ghost hand?” Warrior quirked an eyebrow, turning to peer down towards the bathroom. He blinked and whistled lowly, “What’s with the smoke?”

The area the bathroom was in was in shambles. Splintered wood, scorched planks, and ruptured flooring covered with water told Warrior the restroom was no longer usable.

Hyrule chuckled a bit nervously, standing behind Time and peeking around him, “It popped out from the toilet and scared me so badly I might’ve...instinctively lashed out with a magic attack?”

“Was that what the explosion was?” Wind piped up from beside Warrior, resting on his sword and relaxing since he knew there was no imminent danger.

“Magic attack?” Four curiously repeated.

Hyrule didn’t hear their questions and instead looked up at Time timidly, “Can we please leave this awful place, Time?”

He’d had enough. Monsters he could do. Mobs of them? No problem. Ghosts- especially a ghost hand that apparently lives in a toilet? That was pushing it.

Time glanced down at him. Unable to withstand the pitiful look the younger Hero was pulling, Time sighed and ruffled his hair.

“We might as well, or we’ll end up paying for repairs.”

The others cheered.

“Oh thank goodness!” Legend breathed a sigh of relief, immediately disappearing into his room and tossing out his, Warrior, and Sky’s belongings, “Let’s hurry up and go then!”

Wind and Wild dashed into their own to do the same, shoving packs into Twilight, Time, and Four’s hands.

“We’ve got everything!” Wild cheerfully declared, tossing his bag over his shoulder, “Let’s get outta here!”

“What in tarnation..!” A voice cried out from behind them.

Time’s eye marginally widened as the Heroes started and whipped their heads ‘round to find a shocked and fuming innkeeper standing behind them.

Warrior was the first to recover, barking out an order the Links didn’t hesitate to execute,

“Run!”

#Linked Universe #linkeduniverse #Legend of Zelda #din writes #Literally has no point #randomfic

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britishassistant · 4 years ago

Text

But I Like One Piece (17)

Unsurprisingly, they stay in for the rest of the day.

Naruto and Lee badger her to show them more of the “singy thing language”, so she writes out the alphabet for them.

It’s actually a bit difficult to translate individual letters back into the language of this world, which is based on grouping sounds that all involve vowels. The idea of singular consonants without that does take a bit for them to grasp.

Eventually she just grabs paper and some pencil and shows them how to write their names.

Lee’s name is easiest, and he delights in how quickly he masters the curves of the “r” and “e”s to write it out over and over again, each version getting a little bit more of a flourish.

Naruto struggles a bit more with his, given the larger number of letters in both his first and last names and his insistence on trying to write the cross of the “t” and then the stalk, like it’s a hiragana character.

“But why can’t I write it that way?” He whines.

“Because that’s not the way it’s written.” She replies primly, avoiding her mother’s knowing gaze and memories of being gently scolded for writing hiragana characters like they were “t”s.

Years of giving up pudding cups have proven that she’s weak to Naruto’s whining, so eventually she just gives up and lets him write it whatever way he wants to.

It’s not long until the adults join in as well.

Okaa-san’s handwriting is flawless like her calligraphy, producing the most legible iterations of her name once she’s got the spelling down.

Gai-sensei produces the most written versions of his name, though that’s probably her fault for telling him his name could either be spelled G-A-I or G-U-Y. He seems to have decided to claim both spellings for himself, if his dedication to making sure he can write each properly is anything to go by.

Otou-san is just worrying over whether his name looks better with or without the “u” on the end.

Gai-sensei is also very interested in directions as well, for some reason. He makes her go over «left», «right», «up», «down», «behind», «ahead», «go», and «stop» until he, Naruto, and Lee have them all quasi-memorized.

Then her mother asks her about English swear words.

It isn’t until she’s finished running through them all and Okaa-san sweetly says, “If I catch you saying any of those, you’ll be banned from cooking for a week, alright?” that she realizes she’s been tricked.

Otou-san and Gai-sensei are awful at muffling their snickers.

They end up preparing a very late lunch/early dinner.

Turns out divulging her biggest secret and trying to guide her family through the travesty that is the English language is long and hungry work.

A few filets of the lamb come out to rest for an hour, because Naruto asks about some of the dishes from her past life.

While the idea of making a Proper Roast Dinner on her own still turns her stomach, she figures she can at least adapt the meat into the “plate-2-bowls” format.

She crushes a clove of garlic and takes a generous donation from Habu-san to prepare a marinade. “So, any more questions?”

“What kind of training did you do in your Springtime of Youth?” Lee asks, eagerly.

She feels sweat trickle down the side of her face as she finishes marinating the meat and sets it aside to rest before grilling. “Ah, not much really. I was more the... scholarly type—I’d rather have my nose in a book than do much physical activity.”

The thought of her past self trying to tackle anywhere near the amount of exercise she does now...

“I would die.” She states. “That me would die even trying to do a half-lap around our training field.”

There’s a moment of silence that feels highly judgmental.

“...That’s kinda lame, Mayu-chan.” Naruto says.

“I know.” She hides her face in her marinade-covered hands. “Can we not talk about it please?”

“You were the one who opened the topic of conversation, sweetheart.” Okaa-san says, putting the rice on.

“Regardless of the folly of the past, your determination to fulfill your creed has allowed you to blossomed into the Springtime of your Youth!” Gai-sensei shoots her a thumbs-up and a reassuring beam.

She smiles back weakly as Otou-san starts wiping the bits of rosemary and garlic off her face with a wet cloth and a chuckle.

After the marinade is cleaned off and the meat is grilling, she’s left to puzzle over what side dishes to make.

Traditionally, the lamb would be served with root vegetables—potatoes or turnips or swedes, parsnips roasted in honey—but alongside the rice, that many carbohydrates in one meal would be far too heavy, especially for the others who are used to smaller, more balanced portions.

Just as she’s wondering what to do, a bunch of green onions appears on the counter in front of her.

Her mind ticks over possibilities. They’re not leeks, but maybe roasted and served in miso soup...

She grins and grabs a knife.

The onions are diced into perfectly even rounds, sizzling to a perfectly browned texture before the dashi comes to a boil and tofu is cubed and dropped in alongside the onions and some dried seaweed to mellow the flavor.

Somehow a red cabbage appears under her knife, and is chopped into manageable slivers, joining orange slices without the skin and a light vinaigrette that tastes a little sharp, like lemon, on the plate.

The lamb filets come off the grill, each one a warm pink in the middle when they’re sliced against the grain.

The scent of cigarette smoke is barely noticeable under the delicious smells of food.

The cuts of lamb are arranged against the little piles of salad, the umami of the meat and its marinade balanced by the more refreshing flavors of fresh fruit and vegetables.

The miso barely splashes as she pours it into six bowls, onion and tofu bobbing merrily as she spoons generous portions of rice into the rice bowls.

She turns around, ready to serve—

Only to find the other occupants of the kitchen staring at her, frozen.

Gai-sensei’s mouth is hanging open. Otou-san has a hand on his bokkem.

Lee’s eyes are wide and starry. Naruto’s mouth is curving into an excited grin.

Her mother swallows and takes a breath to compose herself. Her voice is slightly strangled.

“Mayu. Let’s talk about boundaries for y—for those deities to follow when they’re interacting with my little girl, alright?”

A shiver goes down not-her spine at the look in Okaa-san’s eyes.

Late lunch/early dinner is delicious, even with the revelation that she had had help (Sanji’s help!) for cooking a lot of it.

According to Lee and Naruto’s enthusiastic descriptions, he’d actually appeared behind her, washed out and slightly blue and see-through, like an underdeveloped photograph, but there. He’d nudged ingredients towards her, steadied her hands while cutting and pouring, then looked over to them with a press of his fingers to his lips and a wink before vanishing just as she turned around.

She has to cover her face with her hands and turn to the side in her chair so she can kick her legs wildly at the thought of receiving Sanji’s unseen aid, let alone him actually touching her.

Her cheeks feel like they could melt snow, they’re so hot.

Gai-sensei volunteers to search all over Konoha in order to find Sanji for her mother, who is not very happy that the chef escaped before she could Have A Word with him.

To be fair, if she were Sanji, she’d probably run away before her mother could Have A Word with her too.

Lee is also on board with this plan, though both he and Gai-sensei are stumped when Naruto asks where to start looking.

Otou-san suggests they build a shrine for the StrawHats in the back garden.

“After all,” He says, swallowing a bite of lamb. “Providing these deities with a place of worship might help...ground them, somewhat, lessen anything nasty if they’re accidentally offended. It’ll give us a sure way to contact them whenever we want too, rather than just waiting for them to pop up willy-nilly.”

“An excellent idea, Jirou!” Gai-sensei cheers. Her father flushes bright red and shoves more food into his mouth.

On Monday, she goes to the Academy flanked by Naruto and Lee.

The masks are in the branches of practically every tree they pass.

She keeps her gaze on the ground and clutches Lee and Naruto’s hands a little tighter in her own.

Lee doesn’t seem to want to let go when it’s time for them to go to their separate classes. She gives him a hug, and that seems to placate him a little.

Naruto just doesn’t let go.

For the entire morning.

Even when it becomes difficult to write down notes for Iruka-sensei’s lectures, he holds on tight to her hand or her wrist.

She feels a bit bad for feeling grateful when they take their usual places at either end of the lunch table, but she was beginning to get worried he wouldn’t even let go if she needed to use the restroom.

Everything seems to pass as normal, even with Sakura’s strange behavior and Chouji’s continual bouts of summer flu. She’s getting quite worried about his health at this point.

They stay behind after the Academy day ends to ask Iruka-sensei about shrine-building. While he personally doesn’t know much about it, he very helpfully points them towards a few stores that do specialize in that sort of thing.

Okaa-san and Lee are waiting outside the gates to walk them home.

She sleeps in the big bed with Okaa-san and Otou-san like she did over the weekend.

A week goes by.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens.

She trains with Gai-sensei in the mornings, they all eat breakfast together, she, Lee and Naruto go to the Academy, she and Naruto eat with their friends at lunchtime, either Okaa-san or Gai-sensei escort them home, the saga of convincing a store to sell them the components for shrine building continues, they eat dinner together, and she sleeps in the big bed.

The problem isn’t that shrine components aren’t available for sale. They are. There are even little kits for mini home shrines that people can build.

The problem is that those shrines are all designed to be dedicated to this random sage guy or to dead people. And she doesn’t really think it’ll be well received if they make a dead person shrine for any of the StrawHats except maybe Brook.

But making one of those for him and a different one for everyone else would also be discriminatory and break his heart. Except he doesn’t have a heart to break.

Yohoho, Skull Joke.

Only Otou-san finds that funny. She sulks a little, but digresses.

Even the store owners who make personalized shrines get suspicious when they hint that maybe they would like something for worship that wasn’t dedicated to the sage guy.

They’ve been turned down in three stores so far, and outright banned from one.

In her defense, she wouldn’t have said anything about the owner’s mother if he hadn’t called Naruto a demon and those other awful things.

She gets another cooking ban anyways.

By the start of the following week, her parents don’t quite look at her like she’ll disappear if they take their eyes off of her.

Naruto and Lee stop keeping a death grip on her hands as well, though they do still hug her a lot more than they used to.

She likes the hugs, so she doesn’t bring it up. She’s mostly just glad she gets to sleep in her own bed again.

Chouji’s illness seems to be clearing up too, slowly but steadily. He still has a few hot flushes, but he’s a bit more alert now. When her current cooking ban is over, she plans on making him some chicken noodle soup to help speed up his recovery.

Shikamaru keeps laughing when she tries to enlist his help in identifying if there’s any flavors he particularly likes or doesn’t like, which is beginning to irritate her a little bit.

Sakura’s...not getting better. At all.

Ino’s face seems to be set in a smiling rictus these days, desperately trying to bridge the growing distance between her and Sakura.

Shikamaru and Chouji have been doing more stuff with her, like partnering up for group projects and walking home together, which helps a bit she thinks.

Naruto and Kiba are just on eggshells. Naruto is tiptoeing around them, trying not to do anything that sets off another scolding.

Kiba’s reached the stage where he’s yelling back in self-defense the moment Sakura turns to him and opens her mouth, though every argument leaves both of them looking even more miserable than before.

Hinata’s tried having a word with her, but she just reported back that Sakura either genuinely doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong or is doing a very good job of pretending.

She’s putting money on the latter, because the idea of the former being true is too unpalatable for her to swallow.

The weirdest thing is that aside from Ino, Naruto and Kiba, Sakura’s been treating the rest of them like normal.

It does throw her off kilter somewhat. Still, she, Hinata and Shino do their best to adhere to their plan of “be civil, but shut down any attempts to belittle Naruto and Kiba before it gets too bad”.

Uchiha has surprisingly been the best enforcer of this particular policy. All it takes is one disapproving look from him, and Sakura freezes in the middle of what she was saying like a rabbit in front of a hunter, then quickly turns to talk to Hinata about something.

She’d never thought she’d say this, but borderline assaulting chunin together may’ve been the best thing to happen for the three of them.

Still, Sakura is their friend after all. They’re not just going to abandon her. Even if she’s going through...whatever this is.

She’s asked Okaa-san and Otou-san covertly, but apparently all is well in the Haruno household according to Kizashi and Mebuki Haruno, so she’s at a bit of a loss as to what could be going on.

It had better not be a weird, warped form of puberty, courtesy of parasitic chakra somehow turning people into jerks. She’ll—she’ll—she doesn’t know what she’ll do if it is, but she won’t be very happy, that’s for sure.

To add to this confusion, this year boys and girls get split up for lessons after lunch.

The girls are taught by a different teacher to Iruka-sensei, a mousey woman with glasses who tells them that they will be learning how to blend in to civilian society as kunoichi.

She had no idea what that word means.

When she asks the teacher, the woman looks like she might burst into tears for some inexplicable reason. She then refuses Hinata’s offer of a tissue violently, as if the poor girl had offered her a bomb instead of something to blow her nose on.

It does not get better from there.

She’d anticipated that getting The Talk from Otou-san and Okaa-san, or from Gai-sensei, would be awkward enough. She thinks that even Gai-sensei would do it better than this teacher though.

At least he wouldn’t cry at every mention of the word “sex”. Probably.

She makes a mental note to give her friends the less confusing version later.

Hinata is constantly praised in this class for her ability to appear harmless and ladylike, while Ino is chastised for being too overtly “ninja”, whatever that means.

She gets told that, while her feigning ignorance is extremely credible and will serve her well on intelligence missions and under interrogation conditions, she needs to work on being less... memorable.

She’s...fairly certain that’s positive? Relatively certain. Kinda.

The way the teacher’s lower lip is set to a permanent wobble makes it hard to tell.

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som3thingcr3ative · 5 years ago

Text

And I am Wanting 3

Wow! Two in two days? *this girl is on fire plays faintly in the background*

but for real. that’s crazy.

I’m so sorry about the angst I’m throwing at you with this one. It’s gonna suck, but I hope the ending of it will make up for it- and on a better note, part 4 is gonna be sooo much better for your heart!

Also: there are a few little non-canon-explicit details thrown in here, things that I’ve seen in the geraskier tag and have accepted as fanon. I’ll tag them as what they are once they’re exposed in the story, but I really don’t want to spoil anything just yet! Feel free to draw your own conclusions and let me in on them!

part one part two part three part four

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier get used to their duo becoming a trio; Lani has a nightmare; Jaskier finds a not-so-hidden talent

Warnings: mentions of arousal, a curse

Pairing: pining!Geralt pining!Jaskier

Geralt wakes as the first light of dawn stretches across the horizon. Lani sits before the fire, having kept it alive all night despite having one hand occupied by Jaskier. The Witcher’s eyes soften when he sees how Jaskier curls around Lani, how the woman accepts his touch- but something also prickles in Geralt’s chest, a brief thought of how it is normally him that the bard curls against. He shakes it off as he stretches, drawing Lani’s tired eyes.

“Morning.” She murmurs, yawning.

“Hmm.” Geralt gruffs, standing rather stiffly. He lumbers off to the nearby woods to handle his business.

Lani is still sat in the same position when he returns. The sun has painted the sky in navy and purple, but it’s still a ways off. Around them, the woods are starting to stir with life in the growing light.

“Do you mind if I-” Lani waves a hand toward the woods where he came from, raising an eyebrow as if to question if she needs an escort or not. Thinking about the way he treated her last night, Geralt takes her sarcastic question in stride and gives her a slight nod.

“Hm.” He burrs, not yet ready to talk. It’s too early in the morning for all that.

Lani stands, stretches. Her back and shoulders pop and she lets out a low groan, yawning once more. Geralt watches her step carefully over Jaskier as she sets off into the woods.

Roach nickers to the Witcher, waking up and expecting some sort of food. Geralt moves over to her, rubbing her neck before he unties her leadrope. She moves almost instantly to the other side of the clearing where there is grass. Lani’s gelding looks offended that he wasn’t free to graze too, so Geralt sets Roach’s leadrope over her withers and unties the black horse, standing back to watch the two. Still tied to the tree from last night, Lani’s dark grey mare is fully asleep, a leg cocked in rest.

Over the course of the night Roach and the gelding seem to have become friends with only minimal bickering; Roach boasts a little nip to her cheek, the gelding has a patch of missing hair on his throat. Roach pins her ears when he gets too close. He turns away, choosing a different patch of grass and placating the mare in the process.

“Hmm.” Geralt says, watching them. He looks up as Lani reappears among the trees, looking exhausted. She spares a glance for the horses before she resumes her position by the fire. The Witcher watches her for a second before he decides he’s been awake long enough to be verbal. “He’ll sleep for an hour or two more.” He says, motioning to Jaskier. “I’ll keep watch.”

Lani nods, sending him a grateful half-smile. Anger pounds back to the surface when he sees her bruises in the growing sunlight; they look worse than they did the night before. She curls up on Jaskier’s bedroll beside him, scant inches from his sleeping form. The bard groans in his sleep, reaching out to tug her closer. Geralt watches, feeling something that isn’t anger burning in his chest as she drapes the blanket over them both and rests her head on Jaskier’s outstretched arm. Within minutes, her breathing has evened out and slowed.

The sky has turned from purple to pink to orange and finally bright blue by the time Jaskier wakes. He picks his head up, startled to find Lani asleep in his arms, and Geralt nearly laughs at his expression.

“I thought she fell asleep on watch!” Jaskier whispers, his right arm trapped under her head.

Geralt shakes his head, trying not to smile. That’s not why he looks so surprised, he thinks, watching as the bard slowly extricates his arm from under Lani, replacing it with a pillow made of her discarded blanket. He notes the way Jaskier’s clothes are rumpled, his hair a mess- and there’s a blush rising on his cheeks, a blush that has something to do with the arousal the Witcher can smell on him. Normal for the morning. Geralt’s inner voice of reason says. No different than any other day. Except today, Jaskier didn’t wake up next to the Witcher: he woke up curled around a woman, and to the same effect.

He can’t think on it too long, or the strip of fabric he holds in his hands intended as a gift of sorts for Lani becomes more like a burning betrayal of his feelings.

During the time that Jaskier and Lani slept, Geralt hadn’t been sedentary. He’d caught, skinned and cooked two rabbits and boiled a pot of water for them from a nearby stream. He’d watered the horses- and woken Lani’s lazy grey mare. She reminds him of Roach, a little bit. It’s mostly in the way she carries herself; unamused by the world and its little annoyances, though she is significantly more sleepy than the chestnut. Maybe it’s the draft in her.

Lani groans, coming to. She instantly puts a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the early morning light. Geralt squints up at the sun to find it behind a cloud. It’s worse than I thought. He thinks, already heading toward her with the fabric in hand.

“Here.” he gruffs, holding the strip of black cloth against her hand.

“What-” She questions, spreading her fingers just the tiniest bit. Her pupils are contracted to slivers in the light. “What is that?”

“A blindfold.” Geralt says, as if it were obvious. “It will help.”

Lani grunts, pushing herself to a sitting position with a hand still over her eyes. She’s grumpy, that much Geralt can tell, probably from being woken after only a few short hours of sleep. Finally, she takes the blindfold from him with her free hand, pressing it carefully over her eyes. Once she’s tied it behind her head, she looks around curiously. “Thank you,” She eventually says, a soft smile on her lips. “I can actually see through this!” Geralt takes a look at the black discoloration around her left eye, the bruise that not even the wide strip of the blindfold can cover- and his mood sours.

“Hm.” He says, without Jaskier there to translate.

The Witcher moves to saddle Roach when Lani notices the rabbit on a spit for breakfast. He doesn’t do well with grateful behavior; it’s not something anyone outside of Jaskier has ever displayed around him for as long as he can remember. Speaking of, the bard is still gone. Geralt keeps an eye on the woods, his body tilted toward where Jaskier went as he brushes down his horse. Lani wordlessly joins him, holding a rabbit thigh between her teeth. She brushes and saddles her black gelding as she eats, stealing bites between her actions.

Jaskier still isn’t back by the time Roach is tacked up. If it weren’t for his scent lingering in the wind, Geralt would’ve gone to find him. As it is, he notices Lani’s occasional glances from him to the woods but decides not to say anything. She still squints; he can see her brows furrow everytime she looks somewhere other than the ground, but at least she can see. Her gelding stands perfectly still, his eyes closing for a nap as she tightens her girth, strapping a few saddlebags to the back of her saddle.

The bard finally returns from the woods just as Geralt’s gaze is focused on Lani as she holds a bit up to the gelding. He accepts it without question and she clips it to the halter.

“Hmm.” Geralt grunts.

“He’s confused.” Jaskier says without pause, taking a glance at the halter with the bit attached. “Don’t you have to carry a bridle?”

Lani seems grateful that Jaskier hasn’t mentioned the blindfold, though his eyes certainly remain locked on it. “No,” she says. “I call this a travel bridle. I designed it myself so that I can just convert it to a bridle when I need it and take off the bit and reins when I don’t. It’s easier than carrying both a halter and bridle.”

“Hm.” Geralt says.

“I agree.” Jaskier concurs. “It is cool.” He stretches his arms over his head, yawning. His eyes slide to the rabbit and he lights up. “Ooh, breakfast!”

Geralt thinks he sees Lani roll her eyes playfully as she looks in Jaskier’s direction, but he can’t be sure. Finished with her gelding, she moves to the mare and starts strapping her remaining saddle bags to her.

“What did you bring?” Jaskier asks, his mouth full of rabbit meat. He looks from the bags on the gelding to the mare, curious.

Lani doesn’t stop working, her fingers deft on the straps. Geralt notices with a hint of curiosity that she leaves room for a rider, unlike the way the mare had been the night before. “I brought what I thought was necessary. Food, shelter, a change of clothes. All the coin I could reasonably carry. Several weapons, some medicinal herbs and supplies.”

“You’re not planning on going back.” Geralt realizes. “Why?”

He could swear that her eyes are on him despite the black cloth. “There’s nothing for me to go back to. Loretta’s dead. My father’s dead. The only reason I’d ever go back is to get the rest of what I hid during my time as the vigilante.”

“Your plan?” Jaskier asks, the excitement of a possible song playing through his mind. “Did you bring him down?”

“I killed him.” Lani says without emotion. “But I didn’t get to make him watch as the empire he built crumbled around him. I didn’t get to make him realize just how many throats he’d stepped on in his quest for power. There was no justice in his death, just self-defense.”

“He’s the one who hit you?” Geralt growls, his eyes glowing with rage.

“He’s dead for it.” She answers. For a second Geralt thinks she’ll say more, but she just walks over to the fire and picks up the remainder of the rabbit left out for her.

Jaskier seems to realize that the conversation is over, too. He kicks dirt over the fire and stands up, still chewing on a rabbit thigh. “Well,” he whines, “another day of walking.”

Lani’s eyebrows raise over the lip of the blindfold as she pulls her hood over her head. “You’re not walking.” She says.

“What?” Jaskier asks, confused, but Lani just takes the mare’s reins and swings up on her from the ground, pressing a hand to her ribs once she’s up. “You could’ve asked for help-” Jaskier protests when he sees that she’s still hurt. She shakes her head, dismissing his concern.

“You can ride Romeo.” Lani says, motioning to the black gelding and ignoring his concern. “He’s gentle.”

Jaskier preens, his brows raising as he looks from the gelding to Geralt. “I get to ride? My own horse?”

“Still her horse.” Geralt grumbles, but he’s secretly relieved that Jaskier won’t be forced to walk. He watches Jaskier mount up with a careful eye, noting that the bard is awkward, but not incompetent when it comes to riding.

“I used to ride when I was little!” Jaskier starts as the trio take the first steps onto the path north. “My mother had a grey pony, a mare, and she taught me how to ride on her. I’d ride every day. She was the best mount, so gentle, so kind. I rode her until she couldn’t be ridden any more, and when she passed away we got a horse who was so mean.”

Geralt watches Lani as she moves with each step of the draft mare, Jaskier’s babbling fading into background noise. Her hood is drawn, her face and the blindfold hidden by the shadow, but she doesn’t seem to have any trouble seeing through both; she guides the mare easily and gently while beside her Jaskier holds his reins too high and makes gestures as he speaks. If he couldn’t smell the coppery blood lingering beneath her skin or the occasional whiffs of her pain when the mare jostles her, he would never know that she’d been beaten by both a werewolf and her father. The Lady’s posture is still perfect as she rides.

“Hm.” Geralt grunts, quiet enough that Jaskier can’t hear to translate.

They travel like that until the sun’s rays fall below the horizon and the hooting of owls echoes around them in the dark.

“Such pretty red hair,” the witch comments, twirling a lock of Lani’s hair around her pinkie as the woman trembles, kneeling at her feet. She can’t move; her body is no longer under her own control. There’s not a time in memory that she’s been this terrified, absolutely out of her mind with it as she whimpers, eyes forced to remain locked on the witch’s face.

It’s not a face she’d soon forget, anyway.

“You remind me of a fox, little pup.” She says. “With such pretty red hair.” Her eyes slide to Lord Corro, equally frozen on his knees beside Lani. “She must’ve gotten it from her dam, yes? Tell me, what would you do to spare your daughter?”

And Lani’s gut clenches as her father is permitted to speak. Pleas fall from his lips faster than she can follow: ‘Anything, I’ll pay you anything, just spare her, spare me, please,’

His jaw clicks closed audibly and he whimpers, having bitten down on his tongue. Lani sees blood trickle from his lips as his tongue remains trapped, crushed between his front teeth.

“You see, I don’t care for payment.” The witch comments, gaze falling back on Lani. Around them are the shredded corpses of knights who’d offered the same in exchange for their life. Lani feels inclined to believe the woman. Gold won’t get her out of this- her fathers’ or hers. The werewolf’s blood is on her hands and hers alone, though the witch doesn’t know that. “You caused my pet to be taken away, Lord Corro. I cannot forgive that.”

Lani’s breath catches in her throat when the woman clothed in blood bends at the waist, taking Lani’s jaw between her fingers. There’s nothing she can do as her face is tilted upwards toward the woman.

“Your beauty…” She says, venom behind her eyes. They’re the color of a white sand beach, pale and cold. “T’would be such a shame if it were for naught.” For a second she seems to contemplate her choices before she releases Lani and steps back, pacing before them. “You see, Lord Corro, if I’ve learned one thing in my centuries, it’s that being lonely is the worst affliction a person can suffer. Being unlovable, despite beauty, despite power. To love, unrequited, to know that no one can ever love you… yes, I’ve decided.”

The witch turns to Lani whose stomach twists. She can’t breathe; her chest is too tight, her battered body fighting for every heartbeat under the panic of the witch’s hold.

“Lani Corro,” Her voice reverberates, hands glowing with magic as she places them on Lani’s shoulders: “I curse you. Thrice I curse you; no human shall ever love you. Should you find something to love that cannot love you back, you will suffer. Your suffering can only be ended by a witcher; no mortal means can kill you and nor can you kill yourself. And thrice again; on each full moon you will become more and more a beast. You will live to see the destruction your body causes, aware of it and yet not in control. Your body will never bear life and any child you try to rear will fall sick and die before your eyes.”

When her curse is spoken, the witch releases Lani. She falls to her hands and knees, dry heaving. “Please-” She begs, though she doesn’t know what she’s begging for. Of all the curses suddenly placed upon her, she only cares about one. To cause destruction and be unable to stop it is the worst thing she can imagine, worse even than becoming a beast.

She doesn’t realize her father has been released as well until he starts babbling. “No,” He says, “Not my Lani sweet, she must be loved, she must have an heir!”

The witch laughs when Lani’s scent betrays how sick she feels at her father’s words. “I will place one final curse upon you.” She says. “A curse like no other; the curse of hope. Should you be lucky enough to find something to love you, whatever form you are in at that time will be the form you have until the thing’s death. You will live exactly as long as they do.” She cackles, eyes glittering. “I am sure this will be your undoing. Hope is a fickle thing that destroys far more often than it aids.”

And then the witch waves her hand and Lani screams, a gut-punched sound as excruciating pain rips through her head.

Jaskier is startled awake by Lani’s bone-chilling, terrified scream. It tears from her throat as she sleeps, thrashing, hands clawing at her eyes. Beside him, Geralt instinctively has his sword drawn, though he drops it when he sees the reason for the disturbance; a nightmare. He’d been on watch, so while Jaskier’s eyes are clouded with sleep, his own gaze is sharp, his mind unfogged. Lani is still screaming, though with every breath she whimpers, tears streaming down her face. Geralt catches her wrists before she claws her eyes out; she wakes with a gasp, shooting upward.

“Please-” She whimpers, slitted pupils wide in the night. Her dream clings to her; the witcher can smell it. Her scent is terror and pain in a nauseating abundance and the way she starts to fall apart before his eyes is almost worse.

Jaskier draws her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as tears stream in fat rivulets down her cheeks. She’s such a strong woman, Geralt thinks, wondering how in the hell she’d been able to hold it together during the day if her nightmares are this bad.

“What was it?” Jaskier asks in between reassuring promises while Geralt watches, laying his sword beside him. Lani’s incapable of words as she curls into a tight ball on the bard’s lap, crying so hard her entire frame trembles. Geralt’s sure it can’t be comfortable, what with the way her body is slowly healing from the werewolf fight and then the beating she took afterwards. “You can tell us, Lani. We’re here for you.”

And damn if Geralt doesn’t feel that in his heart. We’re here for you, the words repeat in his head, over and over. We. He’d said it so easily, so honestly that he has to believe it.

The Witcher reaches out a hand to the trembling woman, touching her shoulder. He strokes from her shoulder to her elbow and back, scooting closer to Jaskier.

“My curse-” She eventually hiccups, still trembling as she drags the heel of her hand over her eyes. “It’s only going to get worse. I- I can’t- there’s nothing I can do about it. I swore I’d never be helpless again after-” and here she cuts herself off, shaking her head quickly before continuing. “I swore I’d never be helpless again, but now here I am. There’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Was that the nightmare?” Geralt asks. “You replayed your memory?”

Lani nods, sniffling. She leans her head against Jaskier, her ear over his heart as she closes her eyes, taking comfort in his presence. “The pain was horrible, Geralt.” She murmurs, sounding defeated. “When she changed my eyes- I never want to go through that again.”

“You said it’s going to get worse?” Geralt gets a glare from the bard for that one, a glare so hot he almost flinches.

“Every month I’m going to turn more and more into a beast.” Lani admits, pushing away from Jaskier as she talks. She curls her legs to her chest and wraps her arms around them, suddenly avoiding physical touch. “I’ll be a monster.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that. She very well could turn into a monster; a werewolf, a bruxa- he doesn’t know her curse so he doesn’t know what could happen. Thankfully, Jaskier makes up for his silence, gently taking one of Lani’s hands in his own. He strokes his thumb over her knuckles, brilliant blue eyes wide and worried in the firelight.

“We’re here for you, Lani. We won’t let you turn into a monster.” He glances over to the Witcher. “Right, Geralt?”

“Hmm.” Geralt says.

Jaskier moves closer to her, draping an arm over her shoulders and sitting beside her. She sits stiffly, curled in on herself, still sniffling. “He said he won’t let it happen.”

Lani lets out a short laugh, looking over at the bard with tear-stained eyes. “How do you know what he’s saying?”

Jaskier shrugs. “I’ve been with his insufferable ass for three years now,” He jests, grinning at Geralt. “One learns to understand the small languages he speaks.”

Her answering smile is watery, but it’s a smile. Geralt feels a weight lift off her shoulders as she leans into Jaskier, getting over her nightmare. He watches her as she stares into the fire, Jaskier tracing idle patterns onto her shoulder with his fingers. “Will you… will you sing for me?” She asks, her eyes holding lingering sadness in them. Geralt looks at the bard to find his eyes already on him, almost as if asking if it would bother him. The Witcher can’t find it in what remains of his heart to say no.

“Of course, love.” Jaskier says, the pet name rolling off his tongue as easily as ‘we’ had, and Geralt’s once more reminded of how easily the bard trusts, how willingly he accepts people despite their flaws. He clears his throat, drawing Lani closer. For a second Geralt waits and then Jaskier’s hums; it flows across the clearing, quiet and soft but with a haunting lilt.

The bard sings in a language Geralt vaguely recognizes, catching very few words- Pais Dinogad, his mind supplies, as if from some long locked memory. Lani’s eyes droop almost immediately, her body sagging against Jaskier. Geralt feels the effects of Jaskier’s singing as well as the bard seems to lose himself to the song.

His voice carries across the woods as Geralt lays down by the fire, lulled by the warmth and Jaskier’s song. Around them, all the animals go quiet to listen. Roach rests her head on Romeo’s back, her face turned toward the bard, eyes closed. Lani’s grey mare lays down with a soft grunt, relaxing utterly and completely. Lani herself is fast asleep in Jaskier’s arms as the bard repositions her to rest on the bedroll, still singing.

Jaskier’s eyes are soft and wanting as he looks at both of his companions. Geralt’s features are eased by sleep, his unbound hair falling around his face in gentle waves. Lani lays beside him, close enough to touch. Jaskier’s voice continues as if it has a mind of its own, giving voice to the lullaby that he can feel in his heart.

Something about it feels right to him- it could be the language he speaks in, a language he can’t remember learning but knows anyway- or it could be the melody. He doesn’t know why, but he feels calm, like all the tension has drained from his body.

When the lullaby is over and the last lingering note rings out in the still air, Jaskier lays himself beside Geralt and Lani, drawing the blanket over their three bodies. He has the sense that they will not be bothered that night as every creature within earshot sleeps.

TAG LIST (OPEN): @little-piece-of-tamlin @inforapound

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fieryfafarfanfics · 5 years ago

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Ecstatic Requiem 2

Cold wind welcomes her presence through the calming, serene caress on her skin. Her head holds up high, chin tilts upwards before a single breath of air is inhale slowly. Hands carefully pressed against the Charizard’s back, Kotone adjusts her position and exhales through her mouth. “What a great day, Charlie!” Her smile beams like a thousand suns. Hazel eyes peek at the purring Kanto fire starter. Slim fingers give little scratches on the places she knows the Pokémon loves, and this only widens her smile once she hears a gentle roar. Beep! Beep! Her attention is then robbed by the sound of her Pokégear. One hand digs into the pocket of her black pants. Upon taking the device out, Kotone feels the Butterfrees in her stomach to see the name on the screen. With a simple swipe of her thumb, she opened the message. Skitty <3: honey, r u done w the boring meetings and stuff? Her hearts skips faster at two things. One: the sole fact that he typed ‘honey’, and two: him.

Quickly fingers start to reply his text. Me: darling! yes I hv ♡(ŐωŐ人) are u done wiping out the other trainers? A few seconds pass by. Beep! Beep! Skitty <3: uuuuugh nope. i still hv 7 more left Warm eyes widen in shock. Me: eh??? theres still more??? Her body leans a bit forward for stability. As for Charlie, upon realizing that Kotone is no longer pressing her palms against her back, she slows down. Skitty <3: yes theres more. n im more annoyd too. i told them im gonna hv a small break rn bt i swear if this keeps going ill just fight the pokemon myself A snort slips out. Me: id love to see that (♡´౪`♡) at least you beat them all right? Skitty <3: uuuuuugh nope She can vividly hear his adorably annoyed groan. Before she can reply, another text beeps in. Skitty <3: 3 trainers surprisingly (and annoyingly) beat me. lucky they arent cocky assholes like ur cousin. Me: im gonna screenshot this to white fyi Skitty <3: ANYWAYS, Laughter bubbles in the chill, orange sky. Skitty <3: those trainers wanna battle u next bt i told them to battle u tmrrw. Me: eh really? i can go there and battle them later tonight tho Skitty <3: no A single eyebrow raises in confusion. Me: why???? (・∧‐)ゞ Skitty <3: coz ur mine tonite If it weren’t for Charlie’s fast reflexes, Kotone probably would have slide down off her back. Flush of red kisses her tanned cheeks. The same cheeks then puff slowly. The long end of her ponytail tickles the side of her neck, and Kotone is at lost on whether the shivers in her body is due to the hair or text. Quickly she texts back. Me: someones possessive (♡´艸`) Skitty <3: u hv no idea hw possessive i can be when it comes to you God, Kotone wants to scream right now. Face now filled with heated swirls, she peeks at the screen. Me: cant wait to find out tonight then (⺣◡⺣)♡* Skitty <3: i hope ur ready then my love Dead! I’m dead! Screams echo in her mind as Kotone bends forward against the Charizard’s back. He’ll be the death of me! Giddy giggles burst from pretty pink lips. Her legs start to wiggle forward and back, obviously catching the attention of her confused Kanto starter. Charlie’s wings continue to flap, but her attention has now been stolen by her excited trainer. A smile of her own curls the edges of her mouth. She knows damn well the only person who could make her trainer act and feel such a way was none other than the redhead. Puffs of light smoke slips out of her nostrils, Charlie emits what can be depicted as a chuckle and flies forward. After letting it out of her system, Kotone carefully sits up straight and releases a long line of air. After texting each other their ‘I love you’s, she tucks the communication device back into her pocket. Her smile now ever present, both hands are brought up to tap each warm cheek. God, she feels so lucky to have him. Slowly her attention comes back to the skies. A nice, orange hue slowly, warmly envelopes the sky. There are less flying-types around as Charlie soars, so peace and quiet truly wraps the trainer’s senses. Hazel eyes cast down, and a soundly gasp escapes pink lips at the sight of a place she hadn’t been to in a while. “Charlie,” she called the Charizard. Magnificent blues meet warm hazels. “Can you bring us down to Ilex Forest?” --- The air always feels fresh whenever she arrives at the place. Arms stretch comfortable to the sides. The air is a bit chillier once she reaches the ground, and Kotone honestly loves the feel of it against her arms and neck. Feeling fatigue being washed away from fresh air alone, she plops her hands to the sides. Eyes turn to her Charizard, right hand now holding the starter’s ball as a silent question if she wants to get back in. With a single nod from Charlie, Kotone flashes a smile and returns her. Ball shrunk and clipped onto the belt of her pants, Kotone then looks around the forest. It has been years since she last stepped foot, but awe and wonderment always splash her face to witness the breath-taking scene. It seems that the forest hasn’t changed a bit, hence it brings back a small twinge of nostalgia in her heart. Her mind wanders as her feet walks around the forest. Sounds of slumbering Hoothoots catch her ears. Sights of Caterpies and Weedles frolicking about opens a box of reminiscences in her heart. Ah how she misses being a teenager again. When she first stepped into the peaceful forest, she was 16 at that time. Soft giggles bubble out when she remembers her famous pigtails and puffy hat. Skitty always hates that puffy hat. Giggles evolve into innocent laughter. She remembers that Azalea Town was the place she had met Silver for the third time. While their early encounters weren’t exactly pleasant in the least, Kotone always treasures each and every memory into her heart. Each memory plays like a movie, and she truly means that literally when she learned Mewtwo has the ability to form one’s memories to a clear, vivid, realistic image. She finds that useful for her future child when they would ask questions such as how she and Silver met. Ah, her face is blushing again. “Geez…” Her heart beats ever so gleefully every time she thinks of him. Again she gives her cheeks little taps. At the same time, her feet has stopped, and it takes Kotone a second to realize that she is standing before the Ilex Forest Shrine. “Oh!” Surprise and amusement trickle pass her tongue. Taking a few steps forward, Kotone gazes at the spectacular shrine. Its design was simplistic as ever, yet bears so many memories and significances for the people of Azalea Town. The wooden pillars remain strong, though now covered in small vines on some ends. A few berries and fruits can be seen; Kotone assumes they were offerings from the people and Pokémon alike for the shrine’s owner. Celebi. The name rings in her head. Wind caresses her arms gently, tracing tickles on the finest hairs on her skin. Every time her thoughts wander to the legendary, Kotone can never forget the story Silver had told her. How he had technically died after saving her. How he was plunged into a cold abyss. How his soul withered, his mind blank from the acceptance of his timely death. She couldn’t imagine the indescribable horror he had gone through when he told her. Just the mere thought of it once brings tears to her eyes. Deep breaths inhaled deep into her lungs. He is fine now, she assures herself. Kotone keeps the reminder firm and planted. Celebi had saved him from his death. Celebi actually rewrote the past in order to keep him breathing again. The Time Travel Pokémon even let Silver meet his mother one last time, giving the dead a proper goodbye before he comes back to the living. Hazel eyes gleam at the stories he told her. Silver… The pain he went through was unimaginable. The life he grew up in was anything but human. To know such a child went through hell on earth at such a young age…her skin prickles at the fearful thought. No human can survive being sane as long as Silver has. Sullen gaze falls on the breath-taking shrine. “Silver…” His name lulls through her lips like a heavy prayer. How she wishes she can go back in time. How she wishes she can help him even before they were properly met. All the words she wants to say for him. All the reassurance she would give to a child who had lost everything. Hands rub up and down her arms. Suddenly, sorrow pops into caution when she hears rustling from behind. Quickly she reaches for Damien’s Pokéball; one heel had turned and sight sharpened to one of wary. “Who’s there?” The noise sounds too heavy for a Pokémon in the area. Kotone would assume it came from a human, probably a trainer going on an adventure just like her before. But the sky above is shrouded in darkness, and it isn’t so wrong to be cautious of any danger that lurks in the night. Especially given from a woman who had gone through hell and once became danger herself. “Kotone?” Once the voice lulls into her ears, Kotone immediately feels her muscle loosen. “Hibiki!” Caution turns to joy. Fingers casually unwrapped around the Typhlosion’s Pokéball. Finally able to walk out of the thick bushes, Hibiki brushes off the dead leaves off his arms and head. “Kotone!” Joy rings just as true as hers. Without hesitance, he briskly walks towards her for an embrace. Arms open wide, the young man hugs her by the shoulders and gives her a little squeeze. “Oh my Arceus, it is you!” “Ya!” Laughter bubbles out of pretty pink lips. She returns his embrace with one of her own. “Wow, what’re you doing here?” Pulling away to look at him, Kotone gives his arms a little shake. “Oof,” he winces slightly, “watch your strength there.” Laughter pops out with a mixture of surprise. Being the Johto Champion really does have its perks. “Anyways, I was just doing some field study.” Once and twice he rolls his arms. Surprise widens a pair of hazels. “Field study? At 8 at night?” He knew she would be shocked by his activities. “Yeah.” Once again he laughs. Grey eyes gleam as bright as his innocent smile. “I usually do my routine check-ups at night, you know. There are some nocturnal Pokémon out and about when I least expect it, so I figured it would be nice to not miss any opportunity there is.” Hands plop comfortably by his sides. “Besides, doing field studies at night really gives me a peace of mind since there aren’t any trainers or so many rowdy Pokémon around.” He has a point, as he always does when it comes to Pokémon research. “I see you’re really excelling in the field.” A proud smile shines upon her lips. “And hey, I also see that the field gave you a great workout too.” Lightly she punches his left arm. Cheeks shroud in pink at the compliment. “Well, I still have a long way to go, though.” One hand scratches the back of his head. “You’re not so bad yourself. I see constant training and battling really put some muscles in you.” His comment is replied with a sweet laugh. As sheepish as he is to receive such compliments from his childhood friend, Hibiki wouldn’t lie that he is in awe of her hidden strength. “Well…” Feeling slight conscious of the compliment of her body, Kotone taps her fingers gingerly. “I gotta stay fit if I want to catch up to younger trainers and defend my title.” “I can see that.” A nod is given. It takes him a few minutes, but realization then hits when he can’t find the presence of another champion. “By the way, Silver isn’t with you?” “Oh,” she chirped, “nah, he’s busy battling trainers at the Indigo League.” “At this hour?” Now it is his turn to have shock plastered on his face. “It’s really late. Shouldn’t the League have like…closing times or something?” A sigh leaves her lips. “It does, but it’s until 10. So for now, as long as there are trainers itching to battle after collecting all the gym badges of Kanto and—or—Johto, the Elite Four and us Champions have to get ready.” Honestly, explaining the concept alone is tiring. But much to no one’s surprise, she still manages to defend her title for 8 years. True, Silver has beaten her more times that she kept count, but she also has taken back her title from him many times than one can keep tally. In the end, Lance, the Elite Four, and the Indigo League management agreed to have two separate champions reigning on each region. It’s quite adorable when she thinks about it; the Champion of Kanto and Champion of Johto are the loving, fearsome husband and wife couple. “So anyways,” Another sigh slides off her mouth, “I’m just here walking around in Ilex Forest, getting some fresh air.” Hazel eyes look at the shrine behind her. “And of course, looking at the shrine behind me.” Hibiki doesn’t say much, instead nods in understanding. “I see…” Lower lips juts in thought, he gives his attention to the holy place before him. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d love to keep you company. It’s been a while since we’ve hanged out.” A few steps are taken until he stands next to her. His smile widens at her acceptance. “Thanks, Hibiki.” She doesn’t mind the company. In truth, she misses her best friend as well. Suddenly, before any of them could actual start a conversation, a bright light beams a few steps away from them. The shock and light briefly dazzle them both. One has his arms shielded in front of squinted eyes. One once again grips her starter’s Pokéball while shielding her eyes with one hand. “W-What’s going on?!” Fear of the unknown pierces his tone. None answers his question, though the light unfortunately shines brighter and brighter. “I don’t know.” Through gritted teeth she replies. A Pokéball has been unclipped from her belt, but the blinding ray causes her to flinch in her place. Luckily, no heat nor chill harms them both. But with confusion and fear overpowering them, Kotone lightly curses under her breath as she tries to get her body to move. “…bi—” Irises shrink in the middle of hazels when she hears a faint sound. “…C…e…bii—” That sound! She knows that sound! The owner of the holy shrine. The guardian of the forest. The saviour of Silver’s life. While Kotone herself has never met the Time Travel Pokémon personally, she knows it in her heart that this strange light was Celebi’s doing. “Cele—bi—” The name slurs out in broken hisses. Trying to find and reason with the tiny legendary, Kotone tries to scoot one foot forward. The light, to her dismay, only gets brighter and brighter, almost rivalling the sun. Hoping to Arceus that her next action won’t blind her, Kotone sucks in a deep breath and drops her hands. Hazel eyes—though in pain of the menacing gleam—manage to spot the green shape of the creature who is causing glimmering commotion. “Please sto—!” Before any words could be breathed out, the light—along with the two baffled humans—disappear in a blink.

#Soulsilvershipping #Trainer Kotone #Rival Silver #Pokemon HGSS #Pokemon #ecstatic requiem #tadaaaa #ill see if i can update chapter 4 tonight ehee #kotone #hibiki

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onwardtoadventures · 4 years ago

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She-Rave Ch.1

Content warning: recreational drug use (marijuana, MDMA)

The sun grows fuller, edging closer and closer toward the mountains, vibrant orange and pink splattered across the sky and painted on the clouds. The best friend squad lays together on the soft astro-turf, taking in the warm breeze and the last hour of golden sunshine.

Glimmer passes Bow the joint, and sighs contently. “I’m so glad we decided to do this.”

“Me too!” says Adora smiling brightly at her friends.

“I wish we could just lay out in the sun forever. Of course it’ll be dark soon...”

Bow chokes on his hit and sets down the joint, assessing the weather as dusk starts creeping on the horizon. He regains his breath as Glimmer continues, “Do you think it’ll get cold? I didn’t bring any jackets, although I guess I could just use my cape as a-”

Bolting to his feet and smacking his palm to his head, he waves his tablet in the others direction. “OMIGOSH you guys! It’s already 6:30! I completely lost track of time, we are so behind. Everyone get dressed NOW!” Bow then dives into the tent he shares with Glimmer.

Glimmer sits up slowly and yawns, looking around at the endless rows of tents surrounding them. “Man, I hope I get a second wind, I’m kinda sleepy.” Glimmer stretches and looks over to Adora.

“Shh” Adora says quietly, with a mischievous look on her face.

Catra is sprawled out on her back, arm over her stomach, with dark shades on snoring softly.

Glimmer crawls over to Adora, who is suppressing giggles, while trying to gently paint Catra’s nails.

“Um, Adora.” Glimmer whispers softly. “This is a great prank, but I don’t think you’re using the right kind of nail polish. It’s not even showing up on her nails.”

“That’s because it’s black light nail-polish. I got it from Double-Trouble. We won’t be able to see it until we’re in the show.” Adora explains excitedly. “Catra’s gonna be so confused.”

Glimmer shakes her head slightly and chuckles, seeing that Adora obviously thinks this is going to be the best prank ever. Although she doesn’t quite get the joke, she would never try and ruin the fun. Instead she sits down next to Adora and starts painting Catra’s other hand.

There are 4 bottles scattered around on the ground all different colors. Together they finish quickly and exchange satisfied looks as Adora slips the bottles into her pocket.

Bow bursts out of the tent wearing a cropped tank top under an open technicolor neon vest along with his comfiest shorts and light up sneakers. He promptly begins to apply glitter designs to his face but is clearly not finished.

“Why is nobody getting dressed?!” he shrieks, startling Catra awake with a hiss, and making Glimmer and Adora jump. Bow takes a deep breath. “It’s 6:45 now guys, the show started already. If we hurry, we can still get there by 7:30 and keep to our itinerary.”

“Sorry, sorry. We’re getting up now.” Glimmer assures him, pecking him on the cheek before skipping past him into the tent. The sound of laughter drifts out behind them as he follows her back inside offering to coat her in sparkles as well.

Adora scratches her head as she stumbles into another tent looking at the duffle bag she and Catra packed before leaving Bright Moon, unsure what to wear other than the old red jacket she’s had forever. Being her first concert, let alone rave, she had no idea what to expect and didn’t put much thought into her outfits past assuming she’d just transform later and be She-ra. She decides what she has on will do and sits down on the blankets laid out for a bed, gazing over at the slim drowsy form that crawls in after her. They had decided not to use an air mattress knowing at some point over the weekend Catra would end up stabbing or shredding it with her claws.

Catra thoughtfully dons some tight ripped black jeans, a deep red t-shirt, and her favorite fingerless gloves. She glances down at a smirking Adora and demands to know what’s so funny while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Nothing, nothing just admiring how sexy you look when you just woke up. Your hair is even sticking up in the back.” Adora raises her eyebrows like a dork. The grin continues to grow on her face as Catra lightly growls and tackles her to the ground.

When the impromptu wrestling match finally ends, the pair wander outside hand in hand to finish the joint and check on the others. Bow is already waiting sitting crossed legged in the space between the two tents, humming and eagerly scrolling through the set times on his tablet for the 100th time. He looks up and smiles, the gorgeous blend of pastel glitter on his face catching the last of the sunlight.

Adora goes star eyed “Wow, Bow you look so cool!”

He jumps up doing a little pose and says, “Thanks, I tried really hard.” He finally gets a good look at Adora. “Um, Adora? Is that what you’re wearing?”

Adora folds her arms across her chest getting insecure. “I mean, yeah. I didn’t really pack much. Why, is this bad?”

“No, no.” Bow reassures her. “You can wear whatever you want. Its just…” He tries to find the right words. “I know you’ve never been to one of these things. But a rave… is kinda like a ball!”

“Like… princess prom? Cuz I sorta got kicked out of that.” Adora chuckles. Catra snort laughs at the memory.

“Yeah you did.” Catra teases.

“Hey! It was your fault to begin with! I was doing fine until you and Scorpia started-“ Adora cuts herself off with a huff. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m over it.”

“Uh-huh. Suuuure.” Catra chuckles.

Bow clears his throat.

“So, what I meant is, a rave is an opportunity to wear things you might not normally. A chance to go all out. I couldn’t wear something like this to a war council, nobody would take me seriously. But here at the rave, you can wear whatever you want, be as extravagant as you want.” Bow laments passionately.

“Wow. I guess I never thought of it that way. I do feel a little underdressed now. But I didn’t bring anything else” Adora says.

“Don’t worry, I got you covered” Bow pulls Adora into his tent, and he and Glimmer test different outfits by holding them up to Adora. Eventually she ends up in a pair of Bow’s colorful high waisted pants and a shirt of Glimmer’s that fits snuggly around her arms and chest before hanging more loosely at her waist. Glimmer curls Adora’s hair and pins half of it up with a silver clasp, and Bow artfully crafts some rhinestone and glitter designs on her face to complete the look.

Adora emerges shining and excited, beaming down at Catra who has returned to her previous position lounging in the residual warmth radiating up from the turf. As Adora comes into view Catra’s eyes go wide, taking an extra few seconds to look Adora up and down.

“Damnnn, I think I might like this better than your 8 foot warrior look.” She smiles sheepishly and pulls Adora down next to her, running her fingers through the golden waves usually tied up in that I mean business ponytail. Although she does still have that dumb little poof. Adora blushes and ruffles Catra’s short wild hair, finally letting up and scooting in closer, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, content. They stare up at the sky’s dwindling light and wait for Glimmer to add the finishing touches to her ensemble so they can head out before Bow has a stroke.

When Glimmer emerges, she is wearing a dark purple Excision t-shirt, a giant X seeming to explode off the fabric. The well-loved shirt is tucked into a plaid purple and black pleated skirt with swooping silver chains hanging from the hips on both sides. Her arms are covered nearly to her elbows with fake leather cuffs in pastel blue, pink, and purple, with a few rows of beaded bracelets for good measure. She quickly fashions her cape, a rainbow fade of pastel colors that closely match the glitter on Bow’s face, while she rubs her lips together making sure her deep purple lipstick is even.

“You guys, its 7:23! We have to go or we’re gonna miss the beginning of Malaa!” Bow says.

“We can spare one minute for pregame shots!” Glimmer insists, pulling out a bottle of tequila. She takes a swig and passes it to Adora, who is not prepared for the taste and takes a huge gulp before coughing a bit and letting out a disgusted wheeze. Glimmer hands her chaser, which Adora gratefully starts chugging. Meanwhile, Catra takes a more tentative sip and doesn’t see why Adora was so offended. She takes a few more sips and passes it to Bow, who is still stressed about time and caps the bottle without taking a shot and tosses it back in the tent.

“Okay, now let’s go.” He says as he starts herding the rest of the squad towards the venue, the faint sounds of bass finally reaching their ears.

They make their way through the campsite and to the entrance of the raceway. Bow and Adora are power walking, their long legs carrying them further and further ahead as their excitement builds. Catra is definitely not in the mood to run, and Glimmer’s little legs aren’t helping her keep up either. Instead, she and Catra link arms and stroll leisurely, having a pleasant conversation and admiring the colorful decorations that are becoming more and more frequent along the path. Whenever they get too far behind the others, Glimmer just poofs them 10 feet ahead. The remainder of the journey is a constant shuffle of Bow and Adora practically jogging and racing along, while Catra and Glimmer maintain their peaceful gait knowing they can pop up in front of their goofballs and beat them inside at the last second.

#she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #catradora #glimbow #drug use #fanfic #if anyone likes this and wants to see the next 2 chapters we have written #pls show this post some love and we will edit the next 2 chapters and post them

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leoswritingcorner · 5 years ago

Text

an oracle in olympus pt. 4

wow, this one didn’t take as long! nice.

lucky meets another olympian

part 4 of ?

A week goes by, and then another.

Lucky thinks it's safe to breathe again. No deities have appeared, or tried to spirit her away - save for Lucy and Jamie who occasionally stopped by. The day after they brought her home from Olympus, Jamie had gifted Lucky with a new phone.

“This is, like, one of my older Iris-Phones! It still, like, totally works great though!” Jamie explained, holding the cell out to Lucky.

Lucky took the phone and looked over its sleek and advanced design.

“So it’s an...iPhone?” she asked. It was dusty pink and had various heart stickers Jamie had stuck around it. Jamie blew a raspberry.

“Apple, like, wishes it could be an Iris-Phone. But, like, mortal phones can’t, like, connect to our devices or get service from Olympus. I cleaned out, like, all the contacts, except for Lucy and me. So you can like, keep in touch with us!” She said, smiling brightly. “Also, we’ll keep you, like, posted with Cherry too.”

The phone buzzes and a text pops up on the group chat. Two ½ Immortals. Lucy thought it was a hilarious group name.

good morning, charmz! xoxo

Jamie’s message pops up right after.

Happy Fri-YAY!!!! You made it through your second week of work!!! (ten heart emojis followed).

Lucky leans against the wall of the breakroom and types a quick reply. Thanks, y’all! I’m about to start so I’ll text ya both after. Still nothing from Cherry? She taps send and Jamie responds promptly.

Nothing yet, dear :( :’(

Of course. Nothing. Lucky tilts her head back and sighs. She’s relieved. She thinks for a moment, she might be okay with Cherry never finding out anything concerning Tyche and herself. She could go on being normal Lucky Siddalee Day, twenty-four year old from Savannah, Georgia. Someone who didn’t have anything fantastical happen to her.

The sight of the ceiling darkens as she closes her eyes, and lets herself a moment of peace before the likely hustle of today’s work. Completely normal.

It begins slowly, a gentle tingling in her chest. At first, she passes it off as remaining nerves. But this felt different. Her skin prickles as if pins were being poked against her, only then to feel a brush of something light as feathers. It makes her breath hitch in her throat. Lucky’s hand presses to the spot on her chest that kept Hades in question. It felt warm, and only grew warmer as the sensations she felt intensified more and more.

Wake up. Remember. Wake up! Remember!

The words flash through her mind like lightning. They repeated over and over frantically, as if a voice begging from somewhere hidden.

“Lucky! Hey, are you here?” Rebecca’s voice calls. Lucky’s body jolts and her eyes fly open to see her friend’s head poking through the doorway. “C’mon!” Her coworker urges. “You got three field trips today. Two elementary classes, and one middle.”

Lucky can barely remember the sensations she had felt and her thoughts are her own again. She nods to Rebecca. “Yeah, I’ll be right out.” She answers shakily, slipping the phone into her vest pocket. Taking one last glance into the mirror, she adjusts her work clothes. Blouse and vest, neatly pressed, pencil skirt and short heeled shoes - professional, but comfy for long tours. Especially leading groups of hyper primary students.

“Welcome to Jurassic World.” Lucky sighs at her reflection.

4:30 PM comes around and only thirty more minutes stood between Lucky and the freedom to enjoy her weekend. The museum is mostly empty. A few people here and there, but mainly all moving towards the exit doors. She spies around the Grecian Mythos and Art exhibit, feeling a swell of pride flow through her. Each piece here carried a piece of history on it. Sculptures and painters from centuries ago, able to live on in the artwork they created. She was able to be part of it all. Lucky smiles proudly to herself and sits down on the bench, across from Apollo Sauroktonos and lets feeling come back to her feet and legs with a relieved breath.

The peace only lasts a moment when she feels someone’s presence by her. They take a seat next to her and huff. “I never liked that.” They mutter.

“Hm?” Lucky blinks, glancing at them. It was a young man, likely around her age. Even from just his profile, she can tell how striking his looks were. Almost just like a well carved statue that stood the exhibit. He turns his head to her and grins.

Lucky stares at him. His eyes practically shine and glimmer in the setting sun from the window. “That statue,” he says motioning his head towards Apollo Sauroktonos. Lucky blinks and takes a quick glance at it. “It...I dunno, it just didn’t capture something,” he continues, leaning back. “Or...too much of something.”

At that, Lucky laughs lightly. “Well, funnily enough it’s still debated if it’s of Greek or Roman origin,” she begins. “I mean, it is a copy of an original work of Praxiteles,” she explains. Now he’s the one laughing.

“You were a nerd then, T,” he says, “And you’re a nerd now.”

At that, Lucky freezes. Any relaxation that came to her body left, and each muscle within her tensed in alert. He just called her ‘T’. She turns her head back to him and he’s watching her. His eyes really were shimmering gold, as if they held the sunlight within them, practically dancing. That’s when she notices the soft golden hue against his skin. Another Olympian was making an appearance to her.

“I heard you were back, Tyche,” he says with a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me? Hell, I thought I’d be the first one you’d get a hold of.”

Lucky opens and closes her mouth, and shakes her head. “I don’t...um.”

All words of the English vocabulary have suddenly left her, except for ‘uh’, ‘um’, and ‘er’ all coming together in a mash of indistinct muttering.

He pauses, looking over her and realization begins to come over. “Shit, you don’t remember, do you?” He questions. Lucky shrugs helplessly.

“But you gotta remember!” He insists. “I mean, like, we totally love each other!”

Lucky feels her breath catch tightly in her throat. “Y-You’re Clyde?” She asks in a small voice.

At that he pauses and lifts a brow.

“Clyde?” He repeats, nearly offended. “No! T, it’s me. Lucas.” He says, pointing to the statue, then to himself. “Y’know, Apollo.”

Apollo, god of the sun, music, light, and oracles…

If anything, something should have stirred within her if she was really Tyche. Lucky stares at him, and tries to imagine, to remember. She takes a breath and he looks at her hopefully.

“I’m so sorry, dude.” Lucky breathes out. “Nothin’ is clickin’. There’s a chance I ain’t even Tyche. My name is Lucky.”

Lucas frowns, and the light that seemed to shine from him slowly began to dim. The glow of his skin fades slightly. He sits back, looking forward.

“This can’t be. The best oracle…,” he says quietly to himself.

“Um.” Lucky starts awkwardly, standing up. “I’m really sorry. L-Listen, it’s sunset and it’s close to closin’-”

“That’s it!” Lucas snaps his fingers. Suddenly, there’s a brightness to him again. “I have an idea. We- uh, Tyche and I used to love to do this when we could. It’d piss off Zeus.”

Lucky looks at him puzzled. “Anythin’ pisses off Zeus.”

Lucas chuckles, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a pair of keys, flipping them around his finger. “Not as much as taking a mortal for a ride across the sunline.”

Lucky feels her mouth drop open slightly. Lucas jingles the keys. “C’mon, one time across the horizon. If anything, that’ll jog your memory for sure.”

Oh what in the blazes was she doing? Was she really about to get into some strange yellow Camaro that was actually Apollo’s chariot? With updates? Lucas opens the door for her and with a resigned sigh she carefully slips into the car and buckles up.

Guess she really was doing this.

Lucas gets into the driver’s seat and looks to her. “This was one of our favorite things to do. If you don’t remember this, I don’t know what the hell you will remember. Ready?” He asks, starting the engine.

“Ready,” Lucky nods, strapping the seatbelt a bit tighter.

Lucas revs the car a few times before peeling out. Lucky gasps, her body sinking against the seat. His hands move the steering wheel with grace and ease. Lucky dares a glance out the window. No one seemed to notice the car speeding by. A song pulses through, with Lucas tapping a hand along to the beat. “Lost in Yesterday by Tame Impala.” He calls over the music. “One of my favorites to work to.” Lucky’s eyes dart back and forth between him and the road ahead. Still, they manage to avoid cars, people, traffic of all sorts until it all becomes a blur. The sun seemed to come closer to greet them. Lucky cringes, holding her hands up, hoping to block away the brightness.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Lucas says, fishing around the middle console. “Here, Izzy helped me make these. Totally able to block out the sun rays and all that harmful shit,” he says, holding a pair of sunglasses to her. Lucky puts them on. They were tinted a brownish color but she could see everything before them now, sun included.

“We should be over the Pacific now,” Lucas informs her.

“What?” Lucky questions. Sure enough, the road was gone and the car moved over the waving waters of the ocean. Lucky covers her mouth, and looks to Lucas. He grins, turning the car just when it seemed to come to the curve of the horizon.

“Now for the fun part,” Lucas says, as he changes gears with a loud noise. “Sun’s locked.” He nods, revs the engine, and they take off again.

They drive across the ocean, complete darkness before them, and Lucky watches in awe as night gives way to dawn. Beams of light breaking through clouds that rolled and swirled before vanishing. Hazes of orange and yellow flew along beside them and over the car. Her eyes go wide with wonder as she laughs. “Oh my stars.”

Lucas chuckles. “Open the window.” He encourages her. Lucky shoots him an unsure look, but he lowers the windows of both sides. He reaches out an arm, keeping one hand steady on the wheel. Lucky watches with wide eyes as the mixing colors of dawn fly around his hand. “It’s safe.” Lucas assures her.

The wind whips into the car and sends her curls flying back as Lucky leans closer to the window. Hesitantly she reaches out, and feels the cool of the air and spray of the ocean below. Colors seem to dance around her hand and fingers. A stunned and excited look comes over her face. She was practically touching the sunrise. Growing up she had always watched the sunrise back in Savannah, and even a few times on Tybee Island over the beach, but all of those sights now fell short to being the one who lead the dawn across the skies.

Lucas stops the car, and shifts the gears again. There’s another loud noise and he settles back. “And done. A new day here on the other side of earth,” he says proudly. He gives her a grin and presses his fingers to his lips, making a chef’s kiss. “one of my best.”

“Wow.” Lucky breathes. She tips the sunglasses down, and looks at the forming colors of pink and purple of morning. “That was...i-incredible.”

Lucas laughs. “I guess. Tyche freaking got a kick out of it, just like you are.”

“Well who wouldn’t?” Lucky laughs. “Thank you for that experience.”

Lucas shrugs. “Thought it would help,” he says, glancing at her. “So...did it?” Lucky looks away from the scene outside and to him. She doesn’t know what to say. Her heart sinks and her stomach feels heavy with a sort of combination between sadness and guilt. She honestly wished that she could say yes. Lucky shakes her head.

He sighs and leans his head back. Lucky isn’t sure if it’s the sunglasses and the light of dawn messing with her, but she thinks she sees growing tears in his eyes. “Well,” he finally says after a moment. “guess I’ll just have to bug you till something clicks.”

“Ah, join the club,” Lucky huffs. But she flashes him a good natured smile. “Why don’t ya tell me, a bit more about you and Tyche?” She asks. “It might help. Was she a good oracle?”

Lucas turns to her. “A good oracle?” He repeats. “She was the best, and I worked with the girls at Delphi. But Tyche,” He sighs “Tyche was meant for something great. She was favored by most of the gods in Olympus. But mainly me.” Lucas adds.

Lucky snorts, rolling her eyes. “Course.”

“You got her attitude I see.” Lucas chimes. “So we’re on the right path.”

Lucky giggles, resting back. “Guess so. Any stories with y’all?”

Lucas thinks for a moment before laughing. “Oh yeah, there was this time when we went cow tipping in Hermes’ herd and one of them turned out to be a minotaur…” He tells her between laughter as he starts up the car, driving off again.

The sun lingers behind them as they drive back into the night. The reflection of the rising moon catches Lucky’s eyes. A thought like a whisper comes through her mind before it leaves just as softly.

Where are you Tyche?

Saturday morning arrived and Lucky missed it. Lucas had brought her home around 10 pm, and who knew traveling through bended time and space would tire her out? At least they stopped for burgers. Lucas had told her some more stories about Tyche, and some of their misadventures; including accidentally setting off a fire at the Theophania festival. He added his information to her phone.

Now Lucky has three gods on speed dial.

A consistent knocking from the door echoes in the small apartment. Lucky snorts awake. She was on the pullout couch, lost under a swarm of quilts and blankets. The Forrest Gump DVD menu played on loop. “Ugh.” She groans, pushing herself up.

She doesn’t see the half drunk bottle of Rosé at the side of the couch, and she barely pays mind to the scribbles written in a notebook that she kicks under the couch as she stumbles to the door. “Who is it?” She calls out.

The knocking continues. Getting louder and harder.

“I said ‘who is it’ for, Pete's sake!” Lucky snaps, flinging the door open.

Eric stares her down and Lucky stares back up at him.

“Mortal.” He greets sharply.

“Trophy husband.” Lucky retorts.

Eric sneers. He’s not dressed as primly as he was in the underworld. This time he wore a dark peacoat and casual clothes underneath. On the lapel of his coat, however, was a silver pin of a skull covered with rose vines.

“What do ya want?” Lucky asks, keeping the door half shut. “Did Cherry find somethin’?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

Lucky scoffs. “Then why are ya here?” She asks, shutting the door. His hand flies out, blocking it from shutting completely. With a surprising strength he opens the door. Lucky stumbles and glares at him. “What is your damage, flower-child?”

“I’m here to get answers for myself. Are yah really Tyche, or not.” He says, stepping inside. “This is a shit hole.” He states, looking around the studio apartment.

Lucky glares at him. “Ya didn’t have to come in, ya know.” She crosses her arms. “What do ya mean you’re here to get answers?” She demands. Her eyes follow him as he takes a step further into the apartment.

Eric doesn’t answer her right away, he instead surveys the room, as if trying to find something, a clue of some sort. Finally he turns to her, “I want to see if you’re really Tyche or not. Not just some hack mortal.”

“How will ya do that?” Lucky asks, hoping he didn’t catch the slight waver in her voice. She crosses her arms tightly and tries to muster up a glare.

Eric grins, answering her lowly. “I have my ways.”

#an oracle in olympus #lucky day #lucas shaw #again shout out to erica for being the best beta ever!!!#apollo!lucas stole my heart as i wrote this

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