#midnighter: thin ice pal!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

georgemackayhey · 5 years ago

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Hotter Than Summer

a/n: Remember when I promised more NSFW stuff? Yeah so this is by far the smuttiest thing I've ever written. Do Not interact with this is you're underaged. But if you're legal, have fun! 18+ only

w/c: 8k

───※ ·❆· ※───

Every year, you went on a trip with your family.

Your parents and siblings would cram into one car, and meet up with your neighbors in the countryside, under the same roof. A cabin that over looked a lake, that housed a forest, that wrapped all the way around to where you were.

You'd go in the dead of summer, when school let out. When the mosquitoes were rampant and the heat was crippling. You couldn't ever figure out what was so enjoyable about heading into the middle of no place to melt inside a rented home for a few weeks, but you went back each year. Of course, swimming in the lake was a blast and campefires at midnight were such fun. But that was mostly due to the fact that you got to spend such quality time with your favorite old neighbours.

Your fathers best university pal, and his wife only moved across the street when you were well into your high school career. But your dad was chuffed still to have his oldest friend one hop skip and jump away. Your mom was just as fond of the family, and soon you were sharing dinners and going to festivals and movies with them and their son, George.

When you met, you ignorantly assumed there was no way he wasn't a jock, or something equally as brain dead. No one with a face that pretty could possibly be smarter than a blade of grass.

But it wasn't long after they moved in, untill his parents asked you to show him around the school. And even though he was older and so vastly different from you, one morning, you found out George wasn't at all how you'd imagined. As you took him through the school halls, he went on and on about the theater program and marveled over your decently sized and poorly decorated library. He even thanked you for wasting your free break guiding him round to help him make sense of the schedule in his hands.

And after then, you had it bad. So that was precisely the reason you decided to steer clear. You gave small waves in the halls, and pretended not to scream internally when he sat next to you at lunch, every now and again. You went about your day pretending you were much more preoccupied with your other friends, and saved all your hopelessly romantic daydreams about George for your diary.

Until summer, of course. When you showed up to the cabin with your family and your siblings and some of their friends. George would be there, and you let yourself trail behind him like a puppy then. But he always asked for your company, really. He always dragged you to go swimming or to walk three miles to the nearest convenient shop for snacks. He'd sit next to you during rainy afternoon movie marathons and entertain all of your fireside ramblings.

But it had been three years since you'd spent a summer in the cabin. Your last time was the summer after you graduated. George's last time was two years prior, and nothing had quite been the same since.

///

You knew he wouldn't be there, this year. You should have been off, just as well, drinking till dawn or whatever else college kids wasted evenings doing.

His parents were there, though, and spent at least a minute each hugging you hello. After then, you trekked through the familiar home, up to the room you always claimed as your own, and you pretended not to feel dramatically sad. And for the next week, you sat around the fireside with your siblings, and laughed at their dumb jokes. You swam in the lake all alone. And you listened to George's parents yammer on about how proud they were of all his latest and most admirable achievements.

The last day of your visit, you sat alone in the sun room with a book, but only used it as a fan while you reminisced of all the times you'd sat doing the same before.

"I don't know why we come here when it's this hot." You sighed across the table full of left over breakfast food. Your family had migrated toward the back garden to play volleyball, but you couldn't be bothered trudging through the heat.

"I've always wanted to come in the autumn, watch the leaves change, make better use of all this firewood." You never did, because that's when school started and holidays were left to plan in for insufferable days like now.

George's mother was setting a pitcher of spiked punch on the table, something she made every year you'd been old enough to enjoy in her company.

"You know, it's so funny you say that." She grinned, shooting you a bright glance as she moved to pour you a drink.

"Our Geogre will be home this fall and he was asking about heading up to the cabin." She began. You used your book fan with a little more vigour.

"We, unfortunately, won't be able to make that happen of course, with his father's job and my plans of travelling before snowfall." She rambled, the ice in her drink clinking as she raised it to her lips. Your family's laughter rang muffled from beyond the glass wall of windows that made up the breakfast nook. And the heat, like a blanket over you. Like a pool you stayed trapped drowning in.

"You know- you kids should come here on your own! You're plenty old enough now to handle that responsibility and you always were such good friends. I bet Georgie would just love that." His mother's smile was audible in her tone and beaming from her face. You tried not to gawk at her, not to scrabble to sit straight. You casually lowered your leg from the arm of the chair and looked to the woman with a turn of your head.

"Oh I don't know, do ya think-"

"Yes, yes!" She interrupted with a furrowed brow like this was very serious. "I'm meant to call him later. I'll pass the idea along for you, love."

With a soft grin, her mind was made up. You shrugged, hoping it would make her believe you wouldn't be let down either way. But you'd never wanted anything more.

///

She got through to George, and apparently, according to his mother, he very excitedly accepted the plans. You weren't too sure that was entirely true, but you couldn't help but do a little happy dance behind the closed doors of your cabin bedroom. It was always as you left it, green quilt, matching rug, and the few framed albums you hung to make up for the bland wallpaper.

You left it, thrilled by the thought of returning in two months, and stayed glued to your phone till then. Geogre was meant to text you when the time crept nearer for your roughly made plans to become a little more organized.

You weren't sure what you were so excited for. He'd probably bring a girl, or a least mention one. There was no way he didn't have his pick of dozens vying for his attention. Still, the idea of spending a weekend in the cabin in such close quarters with your old crush was thrilling.

///

He texted you a month before you ended up planning to stay, and your exchange was jarringly short. George shot you a date and time. You agreed. Then he asked if you minded if a couple of his friends tagged along. And of course, you didn't. And that was that.

The summer dragged on, and at the first sign of autumn in the air you practically had all your bags packed.

When the time came, you gave your family quick goodbyes and arrived to the cabin a couple of hours early. The air was crisp, and the lake looked cold from your safe distance away. You breezed through the thin fog and smiled to yourself when you stepped into the place.

Everything was just how you'd left it. There were even still a few notes tapped to the refrigerator. You moved through the wooden structure and noticed how high the ceilings were for the first time in a while. And after washing a few sheets, and sorting out some of the food you'd brought for dinner, your solitude was interrupted.

There was a rattle at the door, and when it opened your heart stopped. He was here. George was all grown up. You hadn't seen him since the last time he came out here with the lot of you, the summer after he graduated. Years had passed, and now his hair was a little longer. He was a little leaner, a little taller, maybe. His nose was reddened by the cold but his smile was familiar. You tried not to gape at him and the way he seemed like an actual supermodel while he rested his bag by the door and looked to you, his grin growing wider.

"Hello, stranger." You smiled.

"Y/n!" He called with outstretched arms. You abandoned your place at the stove to accept his embrace and prayed he wouldn't be able to feel your quickened heartbeat.

"George." You beamed. Because he was your friend. At least, he had been once. His smile remained as he wrapped a strong arm around your middle and mumbled a hello right in your ear.

"Where are all your friends, then?" You cleared your throat, trying everything to keep your cool. Did he really have to speak so low in your ear? This weekend might prove to be incredibly awkward...

"Ah, yeah, one cancelled and the other might just as well. He said he'd keep me updated." George winced, running a hand across the back of his neck. "Hope you don't mind boring old me?"

"Of course not." You produced a chuckle. "I'm just making dinner."

And just like that, it felt like old times. George took over the kitchen for a bit, while you bickered over spices and seasonings. And in between stirring up an evening meal, George tucked his bags away in the room he'd always stayed in, and came back to help you set the table.

Conversation never lost its steady pace. George asked you about your budding life after highschool. He asked what you were doing for money and what you dreamed of doing for good. He laughed at some of your best stories and started to trade some of his own.

You'd always felt a bit intimidated by George, but worse now than ever before. He was musing about Hollywood and rambling about his life on movie sets. You nodded along, and watched George's pretty structured face light up as he spoke of his dreams and how some of them had come true.

When you'd finished dinner, your nerves really started up. Here the two of you were, all alone for the first time, maybe ever. There was always someone else near by in your knowing each other. Whether it be here, back home, or at school. You weren't sure how to handle all the empty space, so to occupy your time, you started a fire in the den. It was a cozy little room where everyone usually spent movie nights curled up on the small sofa. You liked to come here to read, when the sun shone brightly through the picture windows.

But it was dark now, and the fire was small. So you stuck nearby to help make it grow and wondered why you and Geogre were here. You wondered if his friend would ever show. You wondered if he'd ever really invited anyone at all.

"I brought beer, but there was some rum stashed away," George spoke himself into the room, holding a bottle and a glass in hand. He held each out to you, offering you take your pick. You picked the rum and thanked him for thinking you might've wanted a choice.

"I think I know you pretty well after all this time." George grinned, sitting on the floor in front of the fire. You were stood there, watching the flames flicker higher, and it took an internal debate for you to sit at his side. Were you making things weird or had they been weird on their own? Just moments ago you were mulling over how normal everything felt. Yeah, must'a just been you.

"I dunno," You huffed as you crossed your legs. "I've changed a lot since the days we used to tolerate each others company."

"Tolerate?" George chuckled. "We both know half our stays in this cabin were made most enjoyable by all the times we band together. We always had such fun."

"We did. Do you think we're too old now to have fun, this time around?" You asked, taking a sip of the rum he offered you. George stalled for a beat, like he was really considering the answer to your question. And then he looked at you and shook his head.

"I hope not." His lithe grin made your throat go dry. So you finished off your rum and stood for a refill. When you settled back in the den, George was halfway through his beer, and you got to talking about life again. He told you the scariest stories of his time away, and you reminisced about some of the traumas of life you and Geogre had been caught up in together when he was only one house away. George went for another beer, and you stayed watching the fire steadily burn.

He returned in silence and the quiet lingered for a long while, with both of you fixated not the flames.

"Remember when you said you'd let me stow away in your luggage when you left, so I could skip out on my physics finale?" You laughed into your drink. You felt George's eyes turn to search for your own, but you were still too deep in thought. "I failed that quiz, George. You were supposed to be my way out of this town."

"Hmm." George took a swig of his beer as you finished your second glass of rum. "Maybe that's why I've come back."

"That's rich." You chuckled and pointed a look to George. You couldn't hold back your nervous breaths of laughter now. Because he was watching you. His sea blue eyes seemed to search your face. You never recalled a time he looked at you with such undivided attention.

"What's so funny?" George rose a pale brow, taking another sip of beer. And as the answer formed on your lips, you blamed the rum entirely for your lack of critical thinking.

"I used to have the biggest crush on you." You admitted, turning a glance to George. His gaze had yet to break from your face, but you swore his smile grew ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and shot you a sidelong look, like he didn't believe what you were saying.

"I did!" You laughed, the voice in your head reprimanding you for being so bold, as the words kept pouring out of your mouth. "You were my older, smoking hot neighbour boy. It was all very cliche but true." You shrugged. A blush burnt your cheeks and your mind suddenly caught up with your actions and you'd started to regret everything that had just transpired.

You mumbled a weary curse as you ducked your head away, hoping George wouldn't go on embarrassing you too much about this. You really hadn't planned to out yourself on the first night of your staying here with him. You hadn't planned to ever tell him that.

But George wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at you, like he had been. Like he was trying to figure you out. His eyes travelled from your face to search the reset of you. You watched George's gaze roam across your build while you tried not to combust in a self conscious worry. But the strange tension was too much not to break.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" You feared, hiding your bashful grin by lifting the nearly empty glass of rum to your lips.

"Because you're beautiful." George grinned, laughing a little like this was some big obvious fact.

"You're just tipsy." You shook your head, pointing to his empty bottle of beer and its half full replacement.

"No, you're just beautiful. You always have been." His tone grew more serious. You dared to catch his eye. The flames from a foot away were reflected in his gaze, and something else too. His eyes flicked away from yours to land on your lips. And his parted ever so slightly. If you hadn't dared to glimpse at his mouth, you wouldn't have noticed the way his jaw slacked.

His eye caught yours again and you realized he was moving closer. George was leaning in and your heart was beating a mile a minute and the fire seemed hotter than the dozen summers you'd wasted away here before.

His lips brushed yours before anything, and neither of you moved for a moment. His warm breath ghosted across your face and all your dreams seemed to suddenly come true as his mouth closed against yours.

Slowly, your lips started moving together. But they moved in perfect time, like they were made for it and waiting for this day to come true. George kissed you with a little more intent, as you kissed him back like you'd never get the chance to again. Because you had never once believed anything like this would happen with George. Maybe he was just tipsy. Or lonely. Or bored. You didn't care. You started to believe he had at least a little bit of actual interest in you, with the way he leaned closer and pressed his grip into your side. His tongue brushed against yours as his fingers started creeping closer to your chest. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating like a drum, and if his hand would ever reach its destination. You kissed him hard as encouragement, and he let out the sweetest whimper that would have made your eyes roll if they were open.

And then there was a knock at the door.

"Shit." You let out another nervous laugh, pulling away and catching your breath. You thought George's friends had all cancelled.

"I'm- I'm sorry." George shook his head, swiping hand at his lips and furrowing a brow at another knock on the door.

"Don't be?" You searched George's eyes for a moment and hoped he knew what you were asking. You hoped he watched as you hurried away. Had that really just happened? Had you just been bold enough to do the thing you'd wished of doing since sometime in high school? Was all the gentle passion in his kissing you back fueled by the drinks? Or had he really meant it?

The knocking kept on as you drifted closer. Geeze, for someone who wasn't sure about coming, they sure seemed excited to be here in the middle of the night. You adjusted yourself on the way to unlock the door, and tried not to blanch when you saw who was on the other side.

"Hi kids!" George's mother beamed, a bag in her arms. "My trip got cancelled and your folks weren't busy so we figured we'd come surprise you!"

The group of parents shuffled through the door. Your father toted a bottle of whiskey and your mother held a stack of films in her grasp. They each hugged you, and you scrambled to steady your tone.

"What a treat." You laughed through your teeth. The change in the pace of your evening could have given you whiplash.

"Oh, it's just like old times!" George's mother squealed, finding her son shuffling toward the kitchen to find what all the commotion was about.

"I suppose so." He grinned, accepting his mothers embrace and nodding as she explained that his father was too busy with work to crash the party. With all the tender sweetness you'd fallen for over the years, George said he understood but greeted his mother with kindness all the while. And as your parents rushed to pass hugs his way, George caught your eye. You wanted nothing more than to ask about the question in his gaze. But you feared your weekend with George wouldn't be as you'd once dreamed, like always.

///

You were glad to sit around the dying fire with your family. His mother's laugh was music to your ears. Your father's jokes had George doubled over with laughter. Your mother mused over and over about how glad she was for this surprise getaway.

And you couldn't be too upset, because you relished every moment you got to spend like this. Usually, this cabin was an escape, a place you could come without a care in the world. But now, there was a nagging little worry tumbling around your head, as everyone sat dragging the night on. Loose plans for the next day were made, talk of enjoying nature and making use of the big kitchen. You said something about sleeping in, because that was a rare occasion in your life these days. And here was a place where your wishes were supposed to be granted.

Your mother was the first to head to bed. The other adults decided to as well, but not before recruiting George to help clean up the kitchen neither of you had been very worried about taking total care of earlier in the evening.

You trudged up the stairs and took your turn in the shower, after wishing your mother a lovely night's sleep. She kept walking to the end of the hall, where she and your father enjoyed the best view just overtop of the forest of trees all around you.

While you washed up for the evening, your mind raced in every direction. What had just happened? And what was going to happen now? You'd been through all sorts of unexpected events with George, growing up. But never anything remotely close to... whatever this was. So far, this wasn't at all how you'd envisioned your long-awaited autumn visit in the countryside.

George's mother was soon making her way to bed too. She passed by as you opened the bathroom door and paused to give you a kiss on the cheek. You wished her goodnight and started your creep toward your own room. Before you could get there, George was walking with your father up the stairs, sharing chatter about a sports game from last year.

"Alright well, I'm off to clean up before bed." Your father noted, ruffling your hair on his way past. "Unless you need in here, George." Your father spun and pointed. There was another half bath downstairs, but the one on the second floor was the only one completed with a big shower and a separate tub.

"Ah, just holler when you're finished and I'll have a turn." George nodded as your father spun back toward the loo wishing you goodnight. You caught George's eye as you started back to your room, and prayed the creaking of the floorboard behind you were his footsteps and not just another one of your daydreams.

Sure, and strangely enough, a set of fingers curled around your wrist before you passed through your doorway.

"I believe we have some unfinished business." His voice muttered over your shoulder. Holy shit. How was this happening?

You didn't have time to waste questioning any longer. You only pulled George into the room you'd come to call your own, and shut the door with a gentle click that wouldn't cause any unwanted attention. No sooner than you had, George was on you.

His lips captured yours in a flash, like you'd been lost at sea and were only just being reunited. You threw your arms around his neck and barely held back a shocked giggle when George pulled you flush against him. You could have spent forever this way, in George's strong embrace, sharing the same breath.

He kissed you dizzy and spun you toward the wall. His hands found your chest at long last and he sighed against your mouth as you pulled him closer best you could. His hips pressed into yours and his hand trailed down your front, till his fingers stalled at the button of your sleep shorts.

"Can I?" He asked in a husky breath, looking right at you. You raised a brow, and gave him a nod, only just attempting to catch your breath. You could hardly believe it. But you'd never been more sure. George kept an eye on you for a beat, as you pressed your teeth to your lower lip. And when his hand started to move, you couldn't help but smile.

"Do you have any idea how badly I've always wanted to do this?" George asked, breathing in your ear as his hand disappeared below the fabric of your shorts. "For how long I've dreamed of having my way with you?" A shiver shot through you as he nipped at your neck. It was all very overwhelming. His word. His lips. His fingers, steadily starting to trace all the right places.

"Holy shit, George." You whined, gripping his shoulder for support from melting into a puddle on the floor.

"What? Am I doing alright?" He asked in a snide way, keeping his mouth pressed below your ear, and pressing his fingers against you with more vigour. Your breath caught at the feeling and George hummed happily against your throat. His fingers travelled further, deeper, till there was no place left for them to go. And when he set his digits into motion, you couldn't help but let out a noise, a small broken cry that tore George's focus from your neck right to you. His fingers stopped moving and his free hand reached your jaw. He held your face in his grasp and seemed to stall a question on his lips. Then with a breath, George asked,

"You're not gonna keep quiet are you?" At the same moment he'd decided your reaction, his fingers started moving again, and his hand that held your jaw moved to cover your mouth.

"Still try, darling, this cabin isn't very big you know?" George grinned, putting his fingers to good use. Your eyes rolled back, and tried as you might, another cry escaped your throat when George picked up his pace. His one hand stayed firm over your mouth as he worked you up and whispered sinful encouragement in your ear. When you could barely feel the floor under your feet, a noise came from the hall. A knock on a distant door.

You groaned as George stalled, and chuckled at your disappointment. His free hand slid down to your throat and his fingers gently curled around there as his eyes watched yours. From behind your door and down the way you heard your father.

"George! Showers free. And don't forget to see your alarm. We're still hiking at dawn!"

You could have cried, really, when you realized your night of fun was halted till further notice. George slipped his fingers from your shorts as you sucked in a breath and let it out like a sigh.

"Don't worry love," George cooed. "I plan on taking good care of you... eventually." The fingers he'd been using found their way to your mouth. You watched his pretty blue eyes flutter as you wrapped your lips and swirled your tongue around his knuckles. You swore he almost reconsidered his leave. But then George straightened and backed away with a clenched jaw and a smile on his lips.

"Get some rest. We're hiking in the morning!" He announced with a wink as he reached for the handle of your door.

"Oh, fuck you." You grinned, feeling empty and full of fire all at once.

"With any luck." George said, before shutting the door behind him.

///

"It's too high!" You worried, searching for a broad rock to step down onto. You and your family had found yourselves at the top of the trail that wound through the forest. But had decided to take a different route back down, around the lake.

"Here look, step there." George spoke up, from the bottom of the path that was broken up. He pointed to a patch of dirt you envisioned crumbling the moment you relied on it. Your mother tutted, and moved past you to take George's advice. Your lovely neighbour extended his hand to your mother who managed her way to safety with his help. Your father followed, helping George's mother, until you were the last one left.

They all stared up at you as you bit your nails and mulled over your game plan.

"Right- we're walkin' on. Get her off, George." Your father waved and turned to follow your mother and George's, who were already ahead gossiping about some tv show. You struggled to hide your blush as Geogre shifted his weight and grinned up to you.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Obviously." You pointed. George reached out, and you held your breath, and stepped where everyone else had. George's hand was strong, but your prediction came true. As you balanced your weight on the patch of dirt, it began to give way. But George was there. He swept you away with ease and balanced you on both feet on the same level of ground as him.

"Did you just want me to save you all along?" George mused, keeping his arms snug around you as you stood.

"Come on." You bit back a smile and pushed George to lead the way, noticing your folks posed for a self at the opening of a man-made bridge.

You all walked on, till you spotted a weather-worn gazebo near the opening of the lake. The sun was unusually bright for the seasons, though a chill balanced in the air. Your gang stalled to rest in the small enclosure and laughed about the adventure you'd been on, and how none of you had ever realized this little nook was out here in all the years you'd been staying right around the bend.

George's mother was the first to head in, saying something about a midday nap. You didn't blame her. You all really had risen with the sun to enjoy the trails before a late lunch. Your mother was next to leave, mentioning just that. Her plans to make a big ridiculous afternoon meal that would likely count as some kind of dinner, too. Your father followed after her, paranoid about the trek from out of the woods alone.

George stayed and shot you a look as you watched everyone walk away, and turn around the lake. And for a moment, you just talked. Like how you always used too. About life and death and everything in between. All while each pause between topics grew long and heavy. Soon, you rose from the bench, tired of sitting, but excited to find yourself lingering out here in the sole company of the man you'd been dreaming of keeping all to yourself.

"Do you prefer it here in the summer, or now?" You wondered aloud, because you really wanted to know. The area you'd come to know so well seemed like a different world in the cold.

George followed your ambling, back down the skinny trail from where you'd just come. He waited to respond until he stepped to face you and stalled your meander.

"Now." George smiled, searching your eyes and pushing his nose against yours. The action made your heart flutter and your fists curl in the pockets of your jacket. Then he kissed you so tenderly, like you'd kissed thousands of times before and he was used to the sensation. You, however, were still dazzled by it. Your hands flew up and clung to the jacket he'd left unzipped. You kissed him back like this was your last chance to prove how badly you'd always wanted too. At your fervour, George snaked his arms around you. One of his hands tangled in your hair as his other trailed to your backside.

You had no excuse to hold back your pleased sighs, as George pressed against you, digging his fingers into your thigh and pulling it nearer to his hip. Your own hands started to wander, right between his legs. George let out a groan as you pressed your palm against his tight jeans, and you thought of doing it again just to hear his reaction. But you had something better in mind.

You broke your kiss and grabbed both of George's hands. He watched as you dragged him a little deeper into the green, and fell against a wide tree when you pushed his toward it.

When you started to fiddle with his belt buckle and bend your knees, George flushed and gapped at you.

"Here?" He asked with a nervous grin, looking much more innocent and shy than he'd appeared last night. Maybe ever.

"Would you rather trade bakewell recipes, George?" You asked with a snicker, sitting back against your heels and peering up to him. "We really don't have to, though." You spoke again with a serious nod, making sure he knew you really didn't want to do anything he didn't want to. But damn, you really wanted this.

"I'd really like if we did." George swallowed, and your grin stretched back to life. "I was just surprised is all."

"Why? Don't you think I'd like to show you as good a time as you started to show me last night?" You unzipped his trousers and kept your gaze fixed to George.

"I promise to make it up to you." He breathed as you started to pull at his boxers.

"You already are." You assured, just before the time for talk had ceased. Your mouth had better things to do.

When George lost his fingers in your hair, and tugged, you were motivated to deepen your interaction. Then you got to hear the way George whined and hissed and cursed your name under his breath. Even if you could reach your free hand to his lips, you couldn't dream of keeping George quiet. His sounds were the sweetest encouragement you'd ever known.

You stayed on your knees until your efforts paid off. Then you helped George pull his trousers back in shape as you rose to meet him, and were pleasantly surprised when he grabbed your face and kissed you. But when his hand started to trail below your waste you broke your kiss and shook your head.

"We don't have time." You sighed, brushing back some of George's unkempt blonde waves.

"But-" His perfect pale brows furrowed and his thumb brushed your cheek.

"It's okay. We'd better get going." You nodded. George nodded too, but then stole another quick kiss. It made you wonder what this was about. It made you wonder what George thought of you, and what he thought of you with him. You didn't let yourself wonder long. The sky was starting to darken with clouds. So you brushed the dirt from your knees and let George lead the way back to the cabin, biting back your broad grin every time he turned to make sure you were close behind.

///

The next morning was spent lazing about the breakfast table as a drizzle locked you all in. Your parents were each still in the kitchen, arguing over cinnamon rolls and other breakfast treats.

"I always wanted to come here to watch the leaves change." You piped up, setting a steaming coffee mug to the side, with your gaze stuck out the rain covered window. George sat by your side, with his head in the crook of his elbow on the table.

"We must have come too early in the year." You sighed, searching for a glimpse of orange or yellow in the distance. All you saw was brown and green against a dull grey sky.

"Well," George spoke up, quietly so. You lowered your eyes to find his, and fixated on his small grin. "That just means we'll have to come back."

"Yeah?" You hesitated to ask. What had he meant? Why had he said so? George only rested his hand on your thigh below the table, tracing patterns on your knee with his thumb. You kept your gaze on him and realized you had fallen hard and fast.

You'd always had it bad for George, but with all this new and very exciting attention he'd been giving you, it was game over. You'd thought of nothing but George each night you fell asleep one room over. Your heart practically leapt out of your rib cage every time you caught his eye across the room, since the beginning of the weekend.

But you didn't understand it. Neither of you talked about what you'd done or mentioned doing anything quite like it again. You just waited up in empty halls and hoped he'd come around the corner in the least suspicious amount of time possible.

But today was hard. Today you couldn't sneak out in the woods, or around the corner. You were trapped in by rain, and if you and George snuck behind closed doors there wouldn't be a question as to why, and that would be utterly embarrassing.

So you sat across from George as your father rallied everyone around an old tattered board game. You caught George's eye as your parents bickered over game rule, and wondered what he was thinking as his pretty blue gaze locked on yours.

When you followed your mother's instructions to go and find a stack of movies in her room, George's mother shuffled off to go make snacks. So your favourite pretty blonde said something about taking a shower, and followed as you trekked up the stairs. But no sooner than you found the stack of movies, and George lingered outside of the bathroom did your father spin into the hall in search of his glasses.

You and George only got to share a look before he shut the bathroom door, and your father recruited you to help in his hunt.

As you all curled up for a movie marathon, Geogre helped you pour everyone a drink. While he reached for a set of glasses, he sneaked past you with one hand grazing your lower back for as long as he could get away with.

And when your parents took residence on the love seat and his mother kicked back in the chair, you and George were left to make the floor comfortable. You dumped all the extra blankets in front of the coffee table and sat a few inches away from George while some romcom played on. It was almost painful, how close he was without being able to reach out. What a strange turn of events.

His mother fell fast asleep by the second film, and your parent's dozed off by the third.

And as the last film played on, you felt George's hand creeping closer to yours. His fingers fit between your own, and his thumb brushed against your knuckles every now and again, as you sat holding hands.

You hadn't really seen that coming. You hadn't known what to expect of this whole thing with George, but an innocent lasting touch wasn't it. All the questions you'd always wondered were louder and scarier as the movie dragged on.

And when it was over, George walked you up the stairs. You kept quiet as not to wake your parents, and watched as he moved in the dark. When he stalled in the doorway of your room, you gazed up to him with a pushed in brow. Then he kissed you. Just a gentle, lingering peck. He left you in your doorway with that, and you stayed up staring at your ceiling wondering why.

///

Your parents left the next morning. They hadn't planned too. But your father got a call from work and since they'd all arrived as a group they decided to leave that way. You had awoken early and found yourself staring at the pages of a book when your mother bustled down the stairs to let you know.

"We'll see you kids at the start of the week!" George's mother waved on her way out of the door. She hoped you'd both enjoy the last day of the weekend in the cozy little place you'd always come back to.

Your parents scrambled to pack their things and followed her out of the door in a dazed rush, rambling about how they wished they didn't have to leave as they headed to the door.

Just like that the cabin was quiet, more so than you'd ever noticed, even when you'd been the only one creeping through the halls. You had no idea what to expect. You didn't want to get your hopes up. And you didn't want to make this already strange situation even weirder. So you took to doing the dishes at the sound of your parents peeling out of the gravel drive. You scrubbed every plate and focused on every soap bubble to stall time as you thought up what to say.

One of you had to say something, right?

When the staircase finally creaked, you'd finished the leftover dishes and were nearly done sorting the last of them away. George stretched into the room, looking around to realize the cabin was missing your surprise guests.

"Dad got called into work. You just missed telling everyone goodbye." You shrugged, meeting George's eye for a moment before you spun to put the last dish away. You listened as he softly floated toward the space you occupied yourself.

"So I finally get you all to myself then?" George seemed to really ask. He looked tired, still. But there was a gentle smile on his face, some kind of hopeful glaze painted over his features. George reached out to you, both of his hands softly holding your face. He peered at you, searching your features as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

"You really wanna spend the rest of this weekend with me?" You wondered, ducking your head as a twinge of fear started to take hold. But Geogre straightened your gaze once more, he made you look at him as he chose his words.

"I'd like to spend much longer than just this weekend with you," He spoke gently like every word was precious. You couldn't possibly think of what to say. You could only smile. You grinned without holding back and watched as George shut his eyes and kissed you.

You kissed him back and decided the pouring rain was cause enough to start a fire. George trailed behind you on your mission to throw a few logs in the fireplace. When you turned from sparking a flame, you watched George settle onto the floor that was still a mess with blankets and pillows from last night's movie marathon. He reached up to you, fingers moving from their latch on your wrist to press into your sides as he pulled you right into his lap.

Just like that his arms were around you and his mouth opened against yours. The fire was nice, but the warmth coming from George was heavenly. You moved your kisses to his neck, relishing the way his pulse beat under your touch. You trailed your lips back across his jaw until you were kissing him again, and dissolving in his strong hold.

You held his face in your hands as your mouths moved together, and only released your grasp to raise your hands over your head as George lifted your sweater up and away. His kisses trailed across your exposed skin, to the swell of your breasts, while his fingers managed to unclasp your bra. With your knees on either side of his hips, you rocked against George, feeling more desperate for his touch than ever.

"Are you sad your friends ditch you?" You asked in a breath with a smile and George was busy pressing his tongue to your skin. You felt him smile, and the warmth of a chuckle escape him.

"Are you glad our parents came and ruined our chances of spending the whole weekend this way?" George shot back, as you pulled his shirt away. You rolled your eyes and pushed George back against a stack of pillows, reaching for his belt. You laughed as he kicked his trousers away and pulled you down for a kiss, like he couldn't fathom parting from you for a second.

You spent a while wrapped up in his tangled limbs- kissing him, trailing your fingers against his burning skin, rocking against each other while the last of your layers kept you from doing what you really wanted.

"You know, I always had a crush on you, too." George propped himself up on both elbows as you'd started to pull his boxers away. You paused your mission for a moment to look at him. His half-lidded gaze and the mess of his hair. The marks starting to darken on near his throat, from you. He was more beautiful each new time you caught a glimpse, it seemed.

"Sentiment not required, but appreciated." You grinned as George sat up, free of the last of his clothes, reaching to free you of your own with his sea blue eyes on yours all the while.

"I did." He rose a brow, and something about his confirming so made your heartache, as it already beat like a drum. You brushed back his tousled waves and searched George's face for approval. He blinked up at you, totally enraptured. You could have stayed in this paused state forever and you swore he might have been content, too. But you couldn't wait any longer. You'd waited long enough.

When you lowered yourself into George's lap, you watched his eyes close and his jaw slack. A sigh escaped his lips, like he was totally relieved. And not just by the pressure you'd both felt now, but by the build-up of this whole weekend. Like something from very deep within him was finally settled. You might have laughed a little at that state of him if you weren't feeling the same. You'd never felt so safe. A strange word for a time like now, but the only word that seemed to fit.

Neither of you moved for a while. At first, you'd focused on settling into the feeling. Then you became totally distracted, brushing back George's hair and peppering his face with kisses. His hands stayed loose around your sides and his nose nudged your own in a way that made your heart sing.

"As much as I love this, I really would like if you moved a little, dove." George cooed in your ear and kneaded his fingers into your hips hoping you'd get the hint.

So you did what he said, and rolled against him. George kept his grip firm as he let out one of those melodious groans of his. You picked up the pace then, not daring to hold back your own hums as George's eyes opened to find yours.

You shared another kiss as you found your rhythm, but couldn't keep it up for long. Your lips parted but lingered close to his when you couldn't hold back a broken cry.

George wrapped an arm around your middle and moved swiftly to lay you down. You watched as he loomed over you and searched your features like he did the first night here. You were in the same place as you had been when you confessed your stupid crush. And you were in the same spot you had been when he kissed you for the first time. And when he closed the distance between you once more, it felt better than ever.

You pressed your heels into his back and tried to tell him how fucking great he was at this, but incoherent mumbles were all you could manage.

"That good, huh?" George strained, barely getting the words out himself. But the little laugh that followed his statement seemed easy and sweet. As if you weren't feeling enough, your heart threatened to burst. Everything felt near bursting, actually.

"It's okay, baby." His saccharine voice rang in your ear as he somehow pushed you deeper into the mess of blankets. "It's just you and me now, and you feel so fucking good. You can let go now, love. I wanna feel you to let go."

He could have kept up talking that way and you'd fall to pieces in no time. But when his hand travelled below your stomach you nearly k.o'ed. Between the things he spoke just to you, the way he paused talking to curse a little, and the rhythm of his hips against yours, it didn't take long until you came undone. He kept you pinned in place until you nearly couldn't see straight until it seemed he couldn't either. When it was all said and done, neither of you moved for a moment. You were less irked by the fact you could have been doing that all weekend, and more moonstruck by the reality that it'd happened at all.

///

It wasn't long before you decided to get cleaned up, but it took awhile to get to the bathroom. George stopped you in the hallway to do everything over again, somehow better than the first time. He stopped you from finding clean clothes to pin you to the bed you'd called your own. You tangled your fingers in his hair as he made his way between your thighs, and made you forget all about doing anything else for the rest of the evening.

And when you finally made it to the bathroom, he followed you into the warm bath. But there, you only relaxed. The water soothed your aching muscles, and the whiskey your dad left behind was passed over the bubbles as you and George sat together till the water grew cold. You talked as you cleaned yourself up, about things you'd always talked about before. You watched as George changed into a pair of joggers you recognized from days gone by. You let him wrap you up in a towel and hold you close in the steam-filled bathroom, and you decided it was paradise.

Your night went on like normal. Like most nights had, in the cabin. You made dinner, and joked about the time your siblings nearly burnt the place down making cookies during a heatwave. And after you ate, you left the dishes for another day, like always. Then you followed George to the den, and watched as he turned the telly on to some slasher marathon. Your autumn dreams were alive and well, as you curled up on the sofa at his side.

You stayed happily tucked against him, one arm and leg across his frame. One of his strong arms nearly pulled you on top of him in an effort to cuddle close as possible. You nuzzled your face into his neck when something especially upsetting flashed across the screen. And eventually, the comfort of his secure hand splayed across your head, and his other arm holding you firmly in place, sent you into the most peaceful sleep you must have ever slipped into.

///

"Wake up, love."

Your eyes were heavy, and your limbs ached. The blankets felt so warm in the morning cold, and George's breath tickled your ear.

"My darling, wake up." He said again, tracing a finger along your jaw as your eyes fluttered open.

"M'up." You sighed, focusing on George's pretty face, his brilliant blue eyes and the easy smile on his full lips. You realized he wasn't curled close, but kneeling at your side like he'd been up for a while now.

"Come and see." His smile widened as he grabbed your hand and tugged you to stand. You pushed in your brows and only sat up so quickly because of George's unusual excitement. He kept your hand in his and dragged you across the room to the fog tinted windows. What time was it? George moved you to the clearest view, and snaked his arms around your middle from behind.

You rubbed your eyes and looked. And past the mist, you saw the trees. Among the usual green and grey, you saw spots of dark red and orange starting to appear. The further you looked the more colours you noticed, and then you realized George had noticed before you.

"Now we know." He mumbled in your ear, as you tore your gaze from the stunning view to look over your shoulder. George really did get prettier with every glance. And now you knew, indeed. You knew how he felt, and you knew you'd get to go home with him as more than neighbours. You knew the perfect time to come back to this cabin, too, when the colours were brightest and the fire's warmth would be most coveted. And you knew George would come back with you. The only thing you weren't sure of was which room you'd stay in together, in all the years to come.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay fanfic #george mackay imagine #george mackay x reader

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bunny-wk-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

This Is Brought To You By

The door opened to a rustic cabin, the natural wood glowing amber thanks to a roaring fire. Worn dark leather seating seemed hazy thanks to said fire light, each piled with plush pillows and draped with cozy throws or blankets. A low table had been laid out with candles, a bottle of wine was being kept chilled in a classy and slightly modern ice bucket with two glasses just off to the side. The only splash of color amongst the glow of the fire, the natural wood and stone textures were a small handful of red roses, loose petals just lightly scattered about. With the help of the slow jazz playing softly in the background, it made for a very romantic atmosphere.

"Well, hello there." the male voice was a slightly low purring drawl, drawing attention to the male figure sprawled across an almost stereotypical bear rug. "Deadpool here. Hopefully, while reading this, you're hearing the voice of a certain sexy male Canadian. I'm sure you know the one. And I don't mean the short, hairy one with anger issues and kitty claws and a fondness for cigars. Unless of course said angry man is being represented by a beautiful, beautiful wild Australian man. Because if then, well, lather me in hot sauce and spank my Chimichanga. But I'm getting off track here."

Fingers drummed against a knee, drawing the attention to the missing and familiar red and black outfit, and more importantly, to the lack of proper attire.

"Yes, my current outfit has to do with the reason we are here today. It's come to my attention, that it's been some time since we last met, or that our beloved writer has written anything involving our favorite woman. And more importantly, our favorite woman when involved with me." a single white rose was plucked from behind, waved about as if a magic wand, and dragged across a scarcely clad male thigh that was pocked with fresh wounds that were instantly scaring. "As such, I decided to… encourage our beloved writer into bringing us all together once again."

With a dramatic wave of limbs, he moved from reclining on his side, that screamed 'Paint my like your French women', to leaning back on his elbows. The pale pink satin nighty, the atmosphere, and the pose would have been more than alluring were the one in said pose a woman. With the male, the nighty was rather comically stretched across his frame, though covering everything important, the sheer robe with fluffy cuffs only adding to the oddity of the entire situation. It clashed with the fact that he still wore his iconic red and black full head cowl.

"Now, our lovely writer might say otherwise about my encouragement, calling it nagging, whining or say I simply began to annoy her until she finally relented. Ignore those words and continue to read mine with the amazing drawl of a voice provided by the Canadian sex symbol; my pal, my bosom buddy, Ryan Reynolds." the white rose bobbed to the beat of the low music, tapping against a hip every so often.

"Now, back unto the reason why we're here. Honestly? I was lonely and wanted some cuddles with my lovely, lovely Kagome." noticing that it was just the male lounging in the open living space, he was quick to wave a hand. "Don't worry, don't worry! My girl is currently enjoying a much-needed hot bubble bath. One, I wish I was taking part of, but felt this little conversation was, at the time, more prudent. How could I feel that? Simple. I had the desire that everyone read this in Reynolds voice, nothing more and nothing less. Though if we are asking for more, and I know what you all want, I on the other hand, wouldn't mind lathering my girl in rich and real Canadian maple syrup and eating my midnight pancake snacks off of her, but maybe later. So while Kagome is taking this time to prepare for a very adventurous night right here on this vegan friendly-faux-bear fur rug, I'll fill that time with hanging out with you lovely little readers. Because without you, though more so my unannounced arrival and delayed departure, we wouldn't be here right now."

Happy humming could now be heard from behind a closed door just off to the side, the male giving a little jiggle in his spot in excitement. The rose momentarily used to fan himself, though just how useful it was as such, needed to be questioned at a later time.

"Now I'm sure there are a few things you all wish to talk about; my last movie with the fridge trope, which I myself can only say thanks to the writers for that one. Thanks guys, I've always wanted more trauma and torture to sprinkled in my life." a finger was wagged, tongue tisking against his teeth, though the sound was slightly muffled due to his mask.

"Or when my next film will come out, and if so, will it be part of the Marvel Universe. This is where you show your true love and devotion. I ask you, lovely readers, to go out and use the internet, haul out the trolls if need be, and ask, beg, and cry for me to be part of Marvel. Not that I want to, not really, it's just principle. What with their large budgets, CGI teams, writers, directors and a full cast. Honestly, a whole school of mutants gone save for three at a single extended time? For what purpose, 'cause I doubt they all went on some sort of field trip or vacation, but what do I know, I failed out of 5th grade. But, not really." his head tipped to the side, possibly staring in the direction of where the bathroom was, it was hard to tell with his face actually covered to know for sure.

"I mean, who wants to be part of that depressing team? All that self-sacrificing for the greater good?" he gave a few bobs of the rose in his hand as his head tipped back, almost as if in contemplation. "Though let's be honest, we all know I would survive an alien with a California Raisin on steroids for a chin, snapping their fingers. And then I'd introduce said alien to my Desert Eagles Mark XIX while recruiting Ant-Man to tickle where the sun never shines before becoming… Anti-Ant-Man? I honestly don't know what to call him in his Ultraman form, wait, does that make him a magical-boy or a science-boy? Right, Ant-Man shrinking to tickle where sun don't shine for hurting my favorite Web-Head super bro." the rose now tapped where his mouth was, though again, it was hidden by his mask. "And it would be super hot to watch Kagome kick his ass. I wonder what she would wear… Something skin tight? Revealing? Her old school uniform?"

A door opening, even though quiet, drowned out his muttering, the candles flickered as steam billowed out of the bathroom before quickly dissipating the further it billowed into the open space. "Are you talking to White and Yellow again?" a female figure left the dark bathroom, her form covered with a short semi sheer dark pink bathrobe of her own. Her hands were raised just enough to free her hair from beneath the robe, though she paused when she really took a look at the sprawled out male. "...I thought that was supposed to be a gift for me?"

Snickering, he trailed the rose down from his mouth, his neck, down his chest stopping just above his stomach. "Don't you think I look sexy in this?" it was always so amusing to tease and rile her when he wore risqué outfits, namely hers.

Finishing in freeing her hair, she eyed his form. Yes, his skin was pocked and disfigured from him constantly getting open sores and his abilities nearly immediately healing them. But beyond that, his form was all carved muscle, no doubt from years of being a mercenary. While yes, he was larger with the shoulders strong, he had a slight swimmer's build. It didn't lack-

"Ah, sorry for the intermission. Our writer took a few days to… deal with life I guess. How boring." shoulders shrugged, waving off the confused expression from his fairer companion. "Of course, it would happen when describing my awesome and amazingly sexy self." an actual pout could be seen through his mask.

"I will admit, you are sexy." the purring drawl from Kagome drew his attention again, her words and tone revealing she either decided she was going to ignore him going off tangent or just that she was used to it at this point, body freezing when her hands began with removing the sash that kept her own coverings secure. "I'm just not sure that shade of pink is quite your color. Maybe you should stick to your usual colors?"

The moment, the robe dropped and pooled around her feet, revealed a feminine figure dripping in curves with subtle musculature that showed she kept up with her own training, he froze. She wore a set of red and black satin and lace that covered pale skin. It covered a little more than what most would normally deem sexy lingerie, with slightly wider straps, but they accentuated her curves, drawing attention to them. And the thin ribbons that accompanied and mimicked, as well as help the lace that helped cover stiffening peeks, made her look more like a present just waiting to be unwrapped.

"Well, what do you think of my gift to you?" legs crossed slightly as hands once again rose to lift her hair to both reveal her neck and shoulders as well as lift her chest, she stood posed before him, basking in the golden glow of the fireplace behind him.

The white rose that had been resting near his hip instantly perked up, a white petal flying off at the somewhat harsh and sudden movement. Despite it being a mask, the white 'eyes' widened as the mask shifted to show that his jaw dropped.

"I'll take your silence as a, 'I likey'?" she giggled as she dropped her hands, they followed the curves of her body, no doubt drawing his gaze from behind the mask to follow with. Slowly, with a slight predator grace, she lowered to her knees and began to crawl up his form, leaving a trail of kisses behind her that glittered from both the fire light as well as her own abilities to help heal him.

Tossing the rose without a care, he reached forward to trace her curves for himself, not stopping as her own hands reached forward to lift and remove his mask. Lips curved up when she reached forward to kiss him. It was sweet, a simple press of her lips against his own. His smile grew when he quickly ended the sweetness by reaching for that delightful curve of her ass that shook playfully in his grasp.

The gasp that was let out was easily and eagerly swallowed, tongue dipping between lush lips to tangle with her own. With where his grip was, he pulled her closer to settle in his lap. Trailing lips away from her own to nip down her jaw and neck, he smirked against her warm skin.

Pausing, brown eyes narrowed as he turned away from the purring woman in his lap. "Oi, what are you still doing here? This ain't no peep-show! Go away. Read a book, play a game, watch a movie. I hear that new one about a guy named Guy wanting to be free or something, is worth the watch. And if my pal Ryan is in it, ya know it's good. Now," a hand reluctantly left the span of leg it had been caressing with a waving motion. "Shoo."

Turning away, leaving behind the couple and the sounds of giggles and kissing echoed loudly over the crackles and pops from the fireplace. A quick squeal that turned into laughter that was followed by a masculine whine at the sound of fabric tearing just set the pace of what was to come. And who was in charge of this nights shenanigans. A door closing muffled the sounds as the cool evening draped across the forest, leaving only the crickets in the distance and even further off cries of wolves the only sounds to echo.

Message delivered, though the exacts of what the message actually was seemed to have been lost. But it had been shared, and that seemed to be all that had been important. It did leave questions of what the future held, and if there would be any further important messages that would need to be shared. Who knows. Guess the game of 'wait and see' was going to have to be played.

AN: Don't ask. Please don't. I will say this, I was at work when I literally/figuratively heard Deadpool/Ryan Reynold's voice pop out from no where and bug me until I started writing this down. And when I lost the flow for a few days, it came back until I managed to finish it. So now I'm posting it here and cleaning my hands of it. I hope you can find some enjoyment in, I know I'm going to enjoy the peace and quiet.

As always; read, enjoy, and please review! - BunnyWK

#fanfiction #crossover #Inuyasha: A Feudal Fairytale #Deadpool #Wade Wilson #Kagome Higurashi #anime #marvel #comics #movies

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slash-em-up · 5 years ago

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Sea Legs: A Nikolas Teravainen & Jonas Deihl Fic

A HUGE THANK YOU to @dashinslashin and @voorheehees for letting me take their boys out for ice cream. We had fun.

——————————————————

“God, don’t you have any clothes that aren’t made out of Steel Wool?”

Niko didn’t turn to look at his houseguest, only offering a brief grunt as he worked to build up the fire in the small cottages wood stove - hoping; but not really expecting that the added heat might make the other man shut up for just a little while.

The small chest Niko kept his clothes in was closed with an audible slam and a huff.

Jonas wandered back towards the fireplace - plucking at the sleeves of Nikos favorite sweater that nearly covered the man’s slim hands.

His lip curled in annoyance as the cuff caught on one of his ostentatious rings, pulling a small string of wool loose from the thick knit.

“I feel like I’m wearing a cheese grater…”

A brief glance at the other man’s expression told Niko all he needed to know about how this week (please, God, just a week) was going to go.

“Too big.”

Jonas snorted, tapping one of his leather loafers derisively against a wicker stool Niko had placed in front of the fire.

“No shit Sherlock. Not all of us are built like fuckin’ Nordic tanks. Couldn’t you at least have sprung for cashmere?”

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Jonas walked through to Niko’s small kitchen, skirting around Pyry as the canine stretched his head out to sniff at the strange man.

“No! Bad dog - go away.”

Niko whistled, drawing Pyry away from his investigation of Jonas.

The pup happily trotted over to his person, plopping down on a quilt next to the stove; panting loudly as Niko ruffled the dog’s ears.

“Where are your smokes, Niko?”

Jonas began opening Nikos cabinets, ostensibly in search of Niko’s cigarette stash.

Three doors full of mismatched china and oil lamps in before Jonas was startled by a clattering tin landing soundly against the small counter next to him.

“You roll?”

Jonas looked over at Niko in surprise.

The other man nodded briefly as Jonas inspected his battered tabaco tin.

“Surprisingly classy… but I think it’s time for a new case.”

Niko stood, dusting his hands of any loose wood on his pants.

“Still works.”

A snort left the smaller man as he made a show of untying the string Niko used to keep the tin together after the latch had broken off.

“Whatever you say, pal.”

Practiced hands made quick work of rolling and sealing two cigarettes, the second of which Jonas offered to Niko.

A monogrammed gold lighter was pulled from Jonas’s pocket and after lighting his cig he offered the lighter to Niko.

“So, I’m thinking a week or two tops and Tiny should be over that little tussle with his boys in the casino.”

Jonas inhaled deeply, squinting blankly into thin air as he contemplated the situation that had brought him to Niko’s door in the first place.

“Gangsters, am I right? Wasn’t even my guys he was having it out with and still I’m the one in trouble. Where’s the respect?”

Niko surprised himself by answering.

“Not your gang, they won’t respect you.”

Jonas looked surprised as well by Niko’s uncharacteristic comment.

“Oh yeah… you do have some experience with that don’tcha?”

One of Niko’s broad shoulders rose and fell in non-committal agreement.

Pushing one too-long sleeve up to his elbow, Jonas checked his watch.

“Nearly midnight - got anything fun to do around here? Pretty girls? Drugs? Anything not fish-related?”

Niko hummed as he inhaled from his own cigarette, flicking the ash into the sink before answering.

“A bar on the pier; that’s all.”

Jonas groaned exaggeratedly.

“Dammit, I’m already bored. What do you expect me to do, read?”

Niko’s lip twitch slightly.

“Could help on the boat.”

“Fuck you! I’m not going home smelling like a whore’s pussy!”

Briefly chuckling, Niko watched as Jonas pouted.

“You think I smell like whore pussy?”

“Yes.” Jonas snapped. “And so does your house.”

Niko smiled blandly at his scowling guest before glancing behind them to his small kitchen window.

“Starting to snow.”

“If my dick falls off from the cold, I’m suing you.”

Ignoring Jonas, Niko stepped over to his coat, pulling his icepicks from the pocket and inspecting the sharp tools before returning them to their place in the yellow plastic.

He began pulling on his boots before Jonas joined him by the door.

“What are you doing?”

Niko didn’t spare him a glance.

“The bar, then check the boat.”

“And you need your little pokers to do that?”

“Mhm.”

Jonas glanced from the small stove and it’s minimal but efficient warmth to Niko, who was finishing lacing his thick work boots, and back.

He narrowed his eyes at the blonde.

“You gonna do anything else besides check the boat?”

Niko shrugged.

Jonas groaned, sounding completely put-upon.

“Fine, I’ll come. But I want first stab if we find someone to make into fish food.”

“Fish f-?”

Jonas slung his fur-lined coat over his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“It’s an expression Niko, just an expression.”

Nodding succinctly, Niko whistled for Pyry once more; opening the door and letting the dog bound out into the winter evening.

Jonas followed, tucking a scarf tightly into his coat.

Niko turned down the small lamp, letting the room slip into a shadowy slumber - black except for the faint glow of the wood stove, and closed the door.

The footsteps of the men faded into the night as the flakes of white fell silently around them.

“Holy FUCK! It’s cold!”

#jessica writes #jonas deihl #nikolas teravainen #niko the fishstick man #slasher oc #the iceman #slasher fiction

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penaltybox14 · 4 years ago

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DecoFiremen: No happy choice

@zeitheist @darknight-brightstar @squad51goals @its-skadi Silky is sick in the city, and Josiah has to make some choices, and have some conversations. Emotions are hard, yo.

It's never good, to see that look on Eddy's face. His fighter's jaw is set, but his eyes are soft like ships on a dark harbor. This is the face that bodes bad news, something Eddy can't fix with his hands, a hot cup of coffee or a knock about the ears. When Josiah sees that look, after breakfast one late winter's day, the first thing he thinks is the state has come to call on Davey again. He'd taken them in his teeth that day at the gate, and thought if not rid of them altogether, he'd bought them enough time to think of how to put them off for good. It did wake him, though, to watch the high moon paint his quarters and fear the state might come back, with papers, with authority, with some force he could not bluff.

(If they were to take Cleary now, he thinks, the boy would be lost forever. He would be some shadow growing thinner and paler on the back ward of the state hospital, he would settle sure as smoke in that long dark hall of his or drown in the lake below the lawn. For sure, he would.)

"No," Eddy says, his raw knuckles flexing, catching the rattle of Josiah's thoughts, "no, it ain't the young fella."

"So what is it, then? You hear from town there's none left of those hot peppers the grocer pickles, that you eat whole from the stem?"

Josiah's humor falls as flat and pale as vellum in the typewriter, gnawed down by keystrokes.

"Got a telegram from the city, Birchy." Eddy grips the butcher-block of the back kitchen's table, leans, uprights, and leans again. "Silky's gone down sick."

"Sick." Josiah has to steady himself. His bad leg throbs like a bad dream that upends the day. "Gone down sick? Who sent it?"

"Hastings at 27. He's at casualty down at Bellevue, thinking it's pneumonia."

He cannot go. He cannot go: he is responsible here, the Captain of this house, their grounds. He cannot go: to leave his post, to leave the lads, to leave the boy. Worst of all, that: to leave the boy. What kind of captain would he be then, to leave the newest and the rawest of recruits, who still trembles under the blunt wind of the sear and some days even falls to it? Some damn bastard, he would be, but his heart and his bent leg howl as the breath of horses, carrying him surely to the city. He was a coward once who left a hundred thousand words unanswered, the great sulk of an overgrown child. It was not Silky's fault, was it, after all, that the roof had caved, that his body had broken under the greedy teeth of the timbers?

But he had never told Silks that, had he. And he could, now. He could have the chance to say it again.

"It's an awful long way, to the city."

"I haven't seen him since the promotion."

"You'd be leaving the boy."

"I know it."

"Do you?"

"I do know it, Eddy."

"Took you how long to answer a simple letter? How long would you plan on staying? Til he was well? Til the dark took him?"

What a bitter kick in the chest, the fury rising up inside him so hard it makes his eyes water. "Silks isn't going to die. He didn't die in that damn fire and he won't now."

"If'n you go, Birch, I'll drive you to the station. But you'll tell Lufty and Monroe and the lads, and most of all, young Cleary, where you're off to."

Lufty, he knows, will understand. Lufty and Monroe both, are men who have swallowed smoke and coughed out grief in spatters on the sidewalk, ribs heaving under the weight of it. Josiah was not the first fireman to be ground hard in the blaze's splintering teeth, he will not be the last.

Though some days he feels as if he is the only fool to lose a brother by his own carelessness and greedy fury. Fool, to lie shattered, dry and cracked and thirsty for the safe embrace of brick walls and floorboards that creak with midnight steps and men who roll over in starched sheets and roll over again. Fool that Silks had sat for, holding the hand without the needle, speaking to him from far away through the ether and the lazy dream-fields of poppies and long sunshine.

But the boy, god, the boy.

Whatever he does, he can't spare the boy. Would that he could. For his sear to have broke before his voice, the boy ought to be allowed to live a life of perfect grace, running the field with the lads and catching perch down in the pond, every line charged, every ladder strong, every jake out clear.

Silks or Davey, he thinks, what'll it be, what choice do I have?

The sun sprawling across the yard has taken on the keener brass of springtime - the snow is still deep, the ice still thick enough to drive a double hitch onto, but the turn of the earth is winning out as she always does. The lads sweat at their work - Lufty and Monroe have let ladders and ropes ice overnight, and each exercise begins with a clamor of ideas on how to handle the frozen gear. Bertram and Jules are keen to lead, while Kitson, Jacob, and Lee, the newest lot, scamper about and skitter like fawns. How funny, to see from the broad steps, that Davey knows nearly as much as a half-year, though he has not the strength yet. He will, though. There is an awkward, coltish grace about him. Something he has not grown into. Josiah woke one night when the sky was half-silver with stars and Davey was standing in his quarters like a ghost-child, the sear singing in their bones. A long way to grow, that one. A long, fine way.

Lufty catches him after lunch. Lufty is harder at the edges, often, than Eddy has ever been. Even when Josiah was still stiff about the collar in his new kit, Eddy was all bluff, and quick to mild. Eddy would brawl for any jake among them. Lufty was tougher to read, even after he was on the boards. Lufty Parker was burned once, and badly, in a fire at the piers in Chelsea. His scars creep up the side of his neck, and cup the back of his head like a brief and tender lover. They invite no dormitory tales, only an edgy kind of sorrow. Josiah had heard, in his rook year, that three men had plunged into the East River, but just one had come up. The oakbellies, he had been told, had tried to make Lufty a captain, and he'd refused to show up for the ceremony. They'd tried to make him a battalion chief, and he'd hopped the first train to Troy.

So he had been told.

But Lufty knows the white rooms and white coats at Bellevue and the casualty ward.

"There's not no happy choice to make, Birchy," Lufty says to him in his office.

"It's just not gonna be so. That said, it's not about if you goes, I think, it's about if you're coming back."

"You think I won't?"

"I know you will. But it's not me what needs convincing."

Josiah sighs. His leg is tight, aching, and he ought to stretch it out. But he's afraid if he ventures out now, he'll run into Davey, breathless with some discovery. "What am I supposed to say to him, Luft?"

"To Silks or the boy?"

"Either one."

"I couldn't say. When I went into the river, I thought we'd all come out. We had a fire at our heels and the river below us, and the last thing I remember before spitting up black water on the cobbles was Matty taking my elbow and Tom saying it'd be alright."

He's never heard this story, not from Lufty's taut lips and clenched teeth, so he stills like a boy in church and lets the old memory - the smell of creosote, and the greasy river, the snapping pilings and the blinding smoke - shiver on the air and fall as motes of golden dust. The worst was not the plunge, was it, but the waking.

Alone.

It's going to hurt them both, but crueler for the boy.

After Lufty leaves him to his battered thoughts, he sits at his desk until the dusk unravels into night. The dinner mess bell clangs. The lads thunder about downstairs like wild horses, shouting, stampeding.

He ought to get up now, go to the kitchens, get a bite. Eddy is always after him to put something more than gristle and spite on his bones. He plants his hands on his desk, ready to make the effort to stand, when of a sudden Davey's there, in the door.

Josiah has a good look at him, now, under the humming electrics. Still too thin, for his widening shoulders. Hair in need of a trim or at least a comb. (He tries to do it like Bertram Cochrane, slicking the sides down, but the loose black curls are springing free by midday). A tear in the shoulder of his shirt fixed by clunky, deliberate stitches. A boy exuberantly ragged at the end of a long day.

"Capper. You weren't at mess."

Josiah pins a smile to the corner of his mouth like he means it. "Eddy send you up?"

"No sir."

"I'll be down soon."

The boy hesitates. "Capper? Are you angry?"

"No. Why would you say?"

"You been up here all day, Capper, that's all. Eddy said - well I think he said, maybe I just thought of something he did say, you know, the sear said he - well you know. Eddy's sear is so bright sometimes. I forget. Eddy said you used to get your hackles up and hide out in your quarters all day."

Josiah chuckles softly. "He's right. I did. I'm not angry, m'son."

"What's wrong, then?"

"Come sit." There is not gonna be no happy choice, said Lufty. And there won't be, but he'd be crueler not to tell the boy.

Davey comes round to his desk and pulls up a chair, as he does when they read and talk, about things Josiah knows - like radio manuals and floorplans and exit strategies - and things that Davey knows, like checkers and poems and music. "I told you 'bout my pal, Silky. You remember, his letters."

"Yes sir."

"He saved my life. Before I was a captain."

"I dream that sometimes. Like you know about the lake. And Liddy."

Josiah picks up a pen and twirls it over the blotter. His chest is tight, like breathing through a wet kerchief. "Davey, Silky's very sick. We got a telegram from his captain." He takes a deep breath, pushing through it, like crawling under thick smoke, palming every door. "He's in the hospital in the city."

Davey watches him through a child's lashes with eyes that pierce him like a brother. Josiah longs for a horse between them, the calming stroke of the soft brush on the soot-dappled back. He longs for the darkness between bunks, staring at the ceiling. In the low, fragile light, Josiah sees the dampness welling up in Davey's eyes. It is too hard to hide.

Davey knows already. He is biting his lip, as if he is already a young man. While he lay in a Bellevue bed, a needle in one arm, Silky had bent over the other, murmuring. Josiah, from his awkward seat with his bad leg locked in its brace, leans forward in one great surge and takes the boy in his arms and holds him tight. As close as his nightmares, as tight as his memories. "I will come back. I will, Davey, I promise you. I'll come back."

The child's stumbling sear is a raw mess of questions, frantic as birds beating their wings against a low-slung slate-clouded sky. He is crying. Good, Josiah thinks. Good that grief be open.

"You promise," Davey whispers at last, hoarse with a sob and muffled deep into his chest. "You got to promise, Capper."

"Promise. I promise, I promise. As sure as I can't run, m'son, I promise I will come home."

#decofire #decofiremen #found family

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soundofseventeen · 5 years ago

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Bee’s (soundofseventeen) Recs

Hi, here are my recs! They’re mostly Erin’s but I do have a few that I’m kinda proud of.

Tell Me (Seungcheol): I love anything that involves a character not telling their friends, family, s/o or really anyone about the struggles they go through and Erin really hits the nail on the head here.

Take This to Heart (Seungcheol): This song is really special to me and Cheol is really special to me. What better way to combine the two than this?

Call Call Call (Jeonghan): I don’t know why I love this one, but it’s really sweet and dorky and telemarketer part just gets me every time.

Everything You Are (Jeonghan): Originally I hated this one when I wrote it just bc I was angry and I didn’t wanna post it just bc it’s not a happy one. It’s on my list now bc you can grow from something that feels like the end of the world and you can come out on top, and sometimes we have to remember that our idols are human.

Three’s a Crowd (Jeonghan): I love how Erin managed to keep the core friendship platonic while adding the third person...who also happens to be the other best friend.

Kiss Me Slowly: (Jeonghan): At the end of the day, I love the thin line of friends to more and when to cross it.

I can’t believe Erin’s really gonna make me say this and I can’t believe I am too. The deception. All the Joshua fics have been my favorite bc they’re either so sweet and fluffy and domestic and leave you happy for the rest of the day or they just kinda shatter your heart. It’s fine though.

Hold This (Junhui): It’s super lame and it’s so dorky and it’s the sweetest thing ever. I can never stop smiling like an idiot whenever I reread it.

Kissing in Cars (Junhui): I can’t really explain this one, but I hold it dearly in my heart. This song from Pierce the Veil just makes me feel everything and this boy makes me feel everything. If there’s any fic I’d want y’all to read, it’s this one.

My Fairy Tale (Junhui): The friends to lovers; the bittersweet feelings; the last sentence that ties it together; I just love everything.

Carnival (Junhui): The secretly dating thing gets me every time, especially when they get caught and it’s just very fall-y.

Midnight (Junhui): The whole pining thing in a fic is very underrated, especially when everyone knows someone has to confess but they don’y. I love the realism and how you just wanna yell at the screen and writer to make them come together.

Come Back (Junhui): ANGST my dudes!!!! I live for things like this!!!! I love that sometimes not everything we write has to be sickly sweet and happy. I WANT TO FEEL THINGS. I WANNA CRY UGLY TEARS and then cheer at the happy ending.

7 Things (Soonyoung): I think that as a writer, one of my favorite things that I’ve done was give readers hope, only to just take it away it and this one did it justice. Erin and Haley haven’t forgiven me for this one but I did warn everyone.

Make You Smile (Soonyoung): I’m a nerd at heart and if anything has pens, paper, a notebook, books as the key thing in a fic (along with coffee shops), I’m a goner. And it’s so sappy!!!! You can hear my heart crying!!!!

Firsts (Soonyoung): I’m very bad with feelings and this just made me happy for some reason.

Can I have This Dance? (Soonyoung): I loved this a lot more than I thought I would to be honest. Erin just has a simplistic happy way of writing and I know that everything will be alright.

Movies (Wonwoo): A Halloween-ish type special from Erin that is hysterical to me for some reason. (Bonus points for the gif she uses!)

Favorite (Wonwoo): Small moments leading up to the big finale? My heart does a thing still!

Terrible Things (Wonwoo): This one I was really wanted to do bc it was a story begging to be told and Erin liked this too???

Speak Now (Wonwoo): You know when you read a book that completely shatters your heart but you go back and reread in hopes it ends differently? This is it. I will never forgive Erin for this one bc she came out with this one around the time I dropped the fact that Wonwoo wasn’t my main bias anymore and -ouch. This is probably my favorite one she’s done.

Someday (Wonwoo): Let me just say...friends to lovers...my absolute poison.

My Life Would Suck Without You (Jihoon): I always pictured Jihoon falling in love with someone he’s known for years and the outcome for this made me happy?

Home (Jihoon): This one I wrote in a couple of days after hearing Home and it wasn’t too shabby, I guess.

First Night (Jihoon): The ending made my heart go whoosh honestly.

Cafe Crush (Seokmin): The way to my heart is giving me a coffee shop setting and this just made me uwu

Fake Date (Seokmin): I don’t know why I adore this one, but I do! It’s so cute and funny and I meant this to happen irl

First Sight (Seokmin): The angst! The hope! The little thing you’re relying on to make it end on good terms only to just...fall apart at the seams.

When I Grow Up/ 1.5 (Seokmin): Truthfully, I don’t know why I wrote this one, but it made me really happy and I’m just a hopeless romantic at the end of the day and apparently everyone loved it so everybody wins. Plus I know it made Erin really happy and that made me even happier. (And it’s one of my favorite seventeen songs which shocks people for some reason?)

All the Mingyu ones, lmao. Everything that’s been written about Mingyu, I’ve loved.

Night and Rain (Minghao): I was inspired to start writing for these boys when I heard this song and this was the outcome. This is my firstborn, and I still listen to this song a lot.

Muffins (Mingaho): Another dorky one that just has me :D

Cheated (Minghao): Again, I won’t always write happy stuff and this was another one that just made me happy to write.

Tattoo (Minghao): I’m really sentimental about this one. Like I love it a whole lot?

Photo Credit (Seungkwan): This is probably the most original piece I’ve ever read and I still laugh about this!!!!!

Temporary Goodbye (Seungkwan:) The bittersweet moment of last days is just something that hurts. You want more time but there’s always hope for next time and that’s what gets you through the times.

You Had Me at Hello (Seungkwan): I just started writing this one, but pen pals y’all. :( Letters, and rambling and talking to each other is just beautiful. Trust me, it’s a special kind of friendship.

8:43 (Hansol): I don’t know why but I love reading about the flashbacks and present times. Erin’s a genius y’all.

Just the Way You Are (Hansol): Literally the time I was fighting Haley to admit her love for Vernon, I was listening to Pierce the Veil’s cover of this song (and I was going through it bc I adore this band and their music!) and I realized that this would make a good fic...although she does hate me for this one!

Lost Woods (Hansol): Mutual feelings? Sign me up. And honestly, the “No one called him Hansol anymore (or something along those lines is the sole reason it’s up there lmao)

How Would You Feel? (Hansol): Yeah, yeah...I’m just a big softie and apparently I can do cute shit like this (I’m really happy with how it came out though and I didn’t expect everyone to like it?)

Birthday Treats (Chan): I hate my birthday too, but I suppose I’d make an exception for him :(

Ice Cream (Chan): Erin and I unintentionally collaborated on this bc she said it was too short and she let me add on to it so it’s special bc we haven’t done anything since the Princess series.

Locked In (Chan): the thought of being locked in the same room with the person im crushing on is equal parts scary and exhilarating...aka my guilty pleasures!!!!

You First (Chan): I just...love break ups and make ups and the whole “let’s try it again” thing

Thirteen Ways I Said I Love You (OT13): They’re short and sweet and it’s postcards

Friends to More (OT13): FRIENDS. TO. LOVERS. NEED. I. SAY. MORE.

Hogwarts Seventeen: Erin and I talk a lot about AUs and Harry Potter so this made me GEEK

Once Upon a Time (OT13): I wouldn’t stop bugging Erin about my theories and I just...she doesn’t disappoint!

Serial Killers (OT13): Y’all I love shit like this; the creepy and scary and just wow

Funhouse/ Thriller/ La Llorona (OT13): Funhouse was my first attempt at haunted houses; Thriller for scariness and La Llorona for the urban legend and dia de muertos!!!

#bees recs

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violet-author · 5 years ago

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A Nice Night For Spinel(18+ Only)

Written as a challenge to myself, to see if I could put out a good longer work in a short timeframe. As always 18+ Only.

Your first love and your first kiss, stolen by one who left when they knew you bereft of experience. It isn't your fault you hadn't trusted anyone to hold you so directly, you were a pair of delicate flowers, in soul and in body, green as the leaves and ready for a lovely embrace. Sadly for you, the locals seemed a cavalcade of infinitely ignorant scraps you were embarrassed to be near, and even more so to realize one whom you assumed cut of a better cloth turned out to be naught but a ratty rag. It's not your fault the folks 'round you seemed so terrible, that you were beaten down to see all as grey, and grey, and grey. it's not your fault the color faded from your life as you went on. It's not your fault that your cozy home felt so much more welcoming than the bars, clubs and theatres that lay scattered around the city to beckon you into their snare of a promise of a good time and perhaps even... love. You felt nothing for the dull and callous masses you passed by every day. but... you heart remained kind, soft, the look in your eyes though sad most times always had that little glimmer of hope for a better tomorrow, you hoped... and hoped... but going on into adulthood you... you didn't see a change. and tried retreating back into yourself one night. during a midnight walk away from the others you heard footsteps along the same path you took, and at the corner... under that one light that worked, the amber shine, that golden honey colored dim brightness bathed her face in it's auspicious embrace. She was different. She was new. She was... colorful. You felt like you could breathe again, and into a daze you went at her gorgeous face... until she spoke. "er, you ok there pal? You're seemin in a tizzy there over somethin." You snap back to the wonderful reality of her, embarrassed about spacing out. And give a shy smile at her, you warn yourself not to mess this up.., you say you're fine, and ask if she is as well. "Well...", she rubs the back of her neck... Seeming sad, she turned her eyes to the ground, seemed she was hesitant about opening up to a complete stranger, but the full moon does odd things to people. So she spoke. "I've been havin ta deal with someone... leavin me behind. I don't know what I did... they said we were gonna go for ice cream when they came back... it's been weeks now...", she sniffles, a tear welling up in her eye, one quickly wiped away. "But I'll be fine. I think..." The lines of faded mascara down her cheeks said otherwise, and the frizzed out ends of her pigtails collaborated with her makeup against her claim. But she had to let it all out somehow. She needed to. she'd explode otherwise. You felt you needed to help her. You tell you story, similar to hers, but yours came with a reason attached, your own love left you from knowing you've never made love, and shattered the love you had for them. You told them how long ago it was, only a couple months, and how it still hurt to this day, how it tore you up inside. how it- She interrupted with a hand on you arm, a gentle hand, a knowing hand, you felt her grip through the thick coat you wore, and looking into her eyes the makeup was smudging even further, the hurt expression on her face, clenched teeth and quivering lips under streaks of tears. Slowly she moved in closer... you let her. You let her in closer. Closer to you. Closer to your heart. And she embraced you, a comforting hug, a loving hug, she nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck, and her hair brushed by your cheeks, the light scent of sweet cherries from her pink hair... your heart beat swift from it. and you held her right back, feeling your own waterfall coming long down your sorrowfully contorted face, and under that golden light you wept in each other's arms, a pair of abandoned lovers finding solace in the witching hour beneath the blue moon. and now, neither of you are alone. You let each other go, and she took your hand. "Might seem weird but... wanna head to my place?" You don't hesitate to respond, a sure yes echoing briefly in her ears, and a sincere grin creeps onto her face, and run you did with her, running, running, you heart leaping and bounding with this new thrill, taking by the hand by a pink haired darling dame, her pigtails fluttering in the breeze of her speed, you struggled to keep up, and by the end of it she had you panting and catching your breath, but you weren't tired, you had more energy now than you ever thought you did. After a few short breaths... she held your chin in the curl of a finger, her thumb gently gliding over your lips as she looked down at yourself, hunched over as you tried to still your wild soul and drumming, thumping heart. She brought you up with a finger as she did your chin and pulled you in sweetly, right before she opened the door... it happened. She took it back from the jaws of your memory, this was a real kiss, not the half hearted peck that that other person gave you. this was your first real kiss. gratitude, affection, understanding, desire, true desire... you felt a rainbow of emotions from this embrace of the lips and her other hand fumbled about to open the door with a heart shaped key, and once it was open, she broke the kiss and let you into her home. it was decorated cutely, with figurines and colors befitting pretty pink princess, the heart shaped pillows on the couches, the bouquets of flowers, the roses of which were mysteriously cut up... the small portraits of fluffy animals chaotically adorning random parts of each wall, and it was clean as well. strikingly so. "By the look on your face I guess I either made ya space out again, or you really like how my place looks! Come on, my bedroom's upstairs!" Being responsible you close the door behind you, and give the lock a toggle to keep yourself and her safe and sound, and the clonk of your shoes on the rosewood floors made a pleasing dull thudding as you followed your new flame to paradise, one you hope will last... "My rooms a little messy, hope you don't mind!" Getting up there, her 'mess' is only a few shirts and pants strewn about, as well as her underwear, which she give a teasing little giggle about while she picks a pair of panties up and waves it at you with a smirk. "Bet you'd like to see how this looks on me huh toots?" You stammer for an answer, she shushes you with raised hand. "Relax hun, We already had ourselves a little feelings jam out there in the cold, and seein as it's so warm in here... we're gonna be lookin at a lot more of each other, sooooo...." She takes a bit of a wide stance and tears her jacket open, turning her head to the side with a pleased look, and her eyes on you, the pop of the buttons adding an appropriate sound effect to your shock, she only had a thin halter top under that garment, and it could plainly be seen that she had no bra. "You like what you see?" You don't even bother talking, and just nod with a thumbs up, trying to hide the fact that your face is burning up from the blush. You try to hide that fact, but she catches on pretty quickly. "Well it's your turn babe! get that thing offa ya!" You chuckle nervously, even though you just met her, you feel like you've been friends for ages, and you unzip your coat, you weren't wearing anything under it. you hadn't planned on even talking to anyone tonight. She looks surprised at first, her cheeks flushing softly from looking at your bare chest, and wordlessly takes off her own top, leaving the both of you topless. "well uh.... it's only fair I strip too I guess since uh...", she gulps awkwardly, " since you're the first one to do it! uh... you uh... oh geez this is... this is weird..." You briefly motion to get your coat back on... you feel like things will all come crashing down... But she holds you up. "Hey! I didn't say I don't like it I'm just not used to bein like this with someone. it's kinda been a long time!" You soften up once more, and let go of your coat. "So... wanna go further?" You carefully nod, and she follows your motions. Firstly, you help her take her boots off after you kick off your sneakers, the laces undone first, and ran backwards through the hooks... looking up at her as you do this, you sort of feel like you're proposing to her, and once you're done she holds you by the hands and pulls you up on top of her, and once there she slips her stick mitts down to your hips and locks them against hers, pushing up and grinding against you confident in the pleasure she can provide, and by the look on your face her pride isn't misplaced, she has you squeaking from just this. She rolled the both of you over and wriggled herself out of those skinny jeans of hers... and you got to see how those panties looked on her after all, the way they cutely cradled her nethers, they seemed tighter than you would have thought, the way they revealed the slight curves of her sensitive body and dug into the surprising plumpness of her slender frame. You were captivated by her every motion... and she wasted no time trying to get you into the same state of undress as she, so she fiddled with your belt and pulled it off, tossing it to the side and letting herself slide off the bed with a grip of your loose pants, and with one tug she had you in just a pair of underwear, you could practically see the hearts in her eyes... and just as her fingers reached the waistband of her panties, you stared, leaning in... you were hypnotized... The rest of the night was a blur of pleasure, Spinel's rusty skills gaining a much needed shine as she played with you all through the night, and just as the run did, she left you breathless... but the fatigue was welcome, the aching from activity a sweet pain to possess, and warm it was as the both of you lay tangled in each other's arms in a sweaty heap, once breath was caught madly did she pull you back into her arms for a barrage of lip locking, and once done, "Oh it's official honey... You an me... We're totally gettin married!"

#Selfshipping #self shipping #gender neutral reader #Spinel #steven universe #citrus

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bangtanloverboys · 5 years ago

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aesthetic game

tagged by @hobicomeholla29

Rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold.

tagging: @thin-mint-yoongi @absoluteyoongit @tipsydipsydo @bangtiddies

#tag game #dip friends #dip rambles

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softscottlang · 7 years ago

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Dogfight (Tom Holland) part 2

[Military!Tom x Reader]

Warnings: Panic and Self hate and ANGST

Summary: After finding out Tom was using you to win a contest to find out who can have the ugliest date, things go down hill.

A/N: Just a real quick shout out to Bec: @loverholland for helping me with the first part and Bri: @parkerstan for making this AMAZING moodboard! I love!

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1 Part 2

~~~~

“I hope you die at war Tom Holland.”

Tom watched you walk away, not sure if he was meant to chase after you. He knew it was the right thing to do, to fall victim to the guilt bubbling inside, to run after you and explain how he felt and how you made him feel even though he would be made fun of for being a ‘little bitch’ while he was at war. Or he could watch you walk away, let the pain he felt bubbling in his chest stay there, see your tear stained face haunting him every time he closed his eye, but get praised by his pals for being a dog.

He waited too long before he made up him mind, before he knew it, you had walked out of his sight and weren’t coming back. He had this heavy weight in his chest, it was trying to make him go after you, to make things right.

“What a bitch, you dodged a bullet not sleeping with that one, Tom.” Tom looked to see Jacob looking at the door where you had left, a beer in one hand and the other wrapped around the girl Tom saw him flirting with earlier.

“Yeah, maybe.” Tom felt so uneasy, not completely sure what he was supposed to do. His heart was saying one thing, but his head was telling him another. It made his head pound, causing tension he didn’t know was possible. He tried to shake off the feelings, blaming it on the abundance of alcohol in his system.

He didn’t care that much about a girl he just met. Right?

Meanwhile, you ran back to your small apartment as fast as you could, feet pounding against the pavement. You weren’t focusing on where you were going, your body knew the way there, all you could focus on was the buzzing that you were hearing. It was like white noise but more intense. It was a rapid beating of nothingness, but it was still filled with everything around you.

What had you done to deserve this? You worked your butt off in your classes, you worked for everything you had. You got a job to pay for your apartment, you took out thousands of dollars of loans to pay for college. You learned how to love yourself the way you were, how did you end up here?

When your door knob was within reaching distance, you quickly pulled it open, slamming it behind you quickly. Your dog, Sylvester had been sitting on your bed when you walked in, his head perked up and he went to greet you.

Normally, you were a happy person and Sylvester had gotten used to you being happy constantly, but he knew when you were sad. So, he waddled himself over to where you came tumbling in. You slid down the door and pulled Sylvester onto your lap, nestling him into your chest.

You let sobs of pain fall out of your mouth and into the small room. The pain you felt in your chest was incomparable, it was like you had the wind knocked out of you, but you could still breath. Like you had been forcefully grabbed and the hold was crushing you slowly.

Where you not pretty enough? Not thin enough? Too skinny? Was your make up too much? Did he really just think you were an ugly girl he could use to win some cash?

The feelings you had circling your brain had become too much, all you wanted to do was scream, to let the world know how you had been hurt. You wanted the people next door to know you were broken and that you wished them to never experience anything like this. But most of all, you wanted the pain to stop, you wanted it to all go away.

You were pulled away from your thoughts by an unknown source of wetness on your cheek. You knew there were tears falling ever so rapidly from your eye, but this was pure slobber. You look to see your black and white dog hovering over where he just licked you.

Your sobs halted momentarily, giving a soft smile to your puppy. He was your emotional support, you’d be lost without him. Sylvester was the one thing that made you want to get up in the morning when all you wanted to do was stay in bed. You knew he needed food, that he needed let out to use the bathroom. He was your baby puppy.

The door behind you started to be pushed open, scooting you away from where you were stationed.

“Alright sugar, Sally’s here with some ice cream and warm blanket.” You quickly place Sylvester on the floor and get up to greet the woman in your apartment.

Sally had quickly become your best friend after getting a job at the diner, she also happened to live next door. The both of you would have fun game nights and take Sylvester on walks together. So, she heard you crying and knew you needed her.

“I’m not gonna ask what happened til you’re good and ready to tell me.” Her southern twang ringing in every word she said. “But I am going to let you know you have to fold your futon up, so we can watch that new movie you’ve been tellin’ me about on Netflix.”

You sniffled softly, a genuine smile adoring your face. You pushed the back of your bed up, creating a couch, you grabbed the tv remote and sat next to where Sally had already stationed herself on the hard material. The movie had started, and you laid your head in Sally’s lap, her softly running her fingers through the hair on your head in a soothing manner. After a few minutes, you told her what had happened, the movie being forgotten.

“He didn’t tell me I was wrong, just let me walk away.” You drifted off, not sure if you wanted to cry more in front of your best friend or not.

“You know, I actually did like that boy. Such a shame he has to be a dumb straight boy.” Sally said while shaking her head, fingers still in your hair. “He missed a really great thing that he could have had. He was pretty nice in the diner, seemed to really take a likin’ to you darlin’.”

“Obviously for the wrong reasons. I’m far to ugly for a guy like that to think anything decent about me.” Your voice was quiet from fear. Fear of crying if you were to speak any louder.

“He’s dumb, all straight boys are.” Sally was making the same points over and over.

You both continue to talk until the movie credits start rolling, making you realize how late it had gotten. You looked at your phone and saw that it was nearing midnight, you let a little gasp, not sure how the time had passed this quickly.

“Well I best be goin’ love, gotta early shift in the morning.” You watch as she gets up, you following suit. You watched her walk to the door, saying a quick good-bye before opening it to leave.

You turn to start laying the couch down, so you could sleep on it when you hear a conversation start from your doorway.

“Alright buster, you better not be here to hurt my girl again.” Sally stood with her feet shoulder width apart and her arms crossed on her chest. You should only imagine the type of expression she was giving whoever was standing on her other side.

“I’m here to apologize, Y/N needs to know how sorry I am.” The dashing accent that had been compressed to the back of your thoughts was now speaking from just a few feet away. You felt your heart rate pick up and the panic from before start to kick in.

“Well hun, I’m not sure if she wants to talk to you.” You were frozen on the spot, not quite sure what you were meant to do. Did you want to hear why he hurt you? Would it make it worse?

“Please, I need to see her.” You could hear the desperation in his voice, one that was too sincere to be faked. You carefully place your right foot in fron of your left and vice versa until you were behind Sally, putting a hand on her shoulder. An unspoken conversation happening between the two of you. She nodded before she walked back to her apartment, bumping into Tom before she was out of arms reach.

“Please don’t hate me. I can’t leave with you hating me.” Tom said when Sally had closed the door to her apartment, rubbing his arm slightly. He flinched when he looked at your eyes and saw that they were blood shot and your cheeks were stained from the mascara that had run down it through the course of the night from the tears.

“Why shouldn’t I hate you?” You ask, your words full of venom and sadness.

“Because I don’t think you’re ugly, I actually think you’re very beautiful.” You felt an anger bubble in you, he still wasn’t understanding what he had done to you, to all those girls that were there.

“But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you were participating in a ‘dogfight’” You used finger quotes around the word, having been taught it’s meaning the hard way. “You willingly bet that I was the ugliest.”

“Y/N, that’s the farthest thing from true darling. I brought you because you caught my attention.” He was shaking his head, eyes wide with guilt, pleading you to forgive him.

“I caught your attention because I was ugly Thomas? How is that right? You broke me, you made me cry because you made me relive all the things I had to overcome to love myself. Now I’m not sure if I can do that anymore.” Your voice broke, leaving it at barely above a whisper. You let all the emotions you had inside, out.

“Do you not understand the words coming out of my mouth right now? I think you’re gorgeous, beautiful, sexy, hot and above all: an amazing person!” He inches closer to you, practically begging for you to see what he was talking about, to see that he was being honest with you.

Each time he stepped closer to you, you backed away, scared of what he would do to you after emotionally destroying you earlier.

“But you still did it Tom, you still took me..” The words were soft and delicate, much like how you were feeling in front of the man before you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I tried to ask you to go somewhere else with me, but you wanted to go!” Tom was getting frustrated, not with you, but with himself. He just wanted to have you understand how much you mean to him, even after only knowing each other for a short time.

“But you still put in a bet Tom!” Your voice had yet to come back, too many emotions taking over your mind, not sure what to think.

“How many of those guys do you think tried to talk their dates out of going?” Tom asked in a quiet voice, trying to be delicate with you.

When you didn’t respond, he reached out for your hand, holding it softly in his rough and callused one. You debated pulling it away but didn’t have the will power to do it.

“Let me prove it to you. Let me prove that you are so much more than something for others to judge, that you are something that should be cherished and valued far beyond what I can give you. I want to leave knowing that I didn’t leave any regrets and leaving you broken because of me would be the biggest one I could have ever left with.”

You let him finish, not sure what to do, you take a step towards him. Thoughts were racing through your mind, so many ‘what if’s, so many doubts, hopes, dreams, aspirations, but you didn’t know which one was going to be right.

“Go on one date with me, please Y/N”

Please comment or reblog your thoughts!

~~~~

Permanent tag: @therealme13posts @you-makemethisway @xbesideguitarx @smexylemony @beautiful-holland @supernaturallover2002 @ashely313-blog @1dloverae @optimisticcloserr @ravan-blood @kyokostonem @decaffeinatedtealover @lucille-lovely @softspideyboy @starkravingparker @underoosstark @claryfeary @starkravingparker @hollandroos

Dogfight tags: @i-jus-wanna-writehappy @taybugstuff @writing-the-night-away @jtorresuck @Spidermans-puts @my-shameless-bouquet @thirteenreasons-whynot @quacksonhq @kawaii-girl- 101 @Tomhollandishy @brokenwhitebarnes @snuggleducky @riverdalemami @pure-voltronsin @allurasparker @mad-the-all-powerfull @caitlinf653 @jeremiah-crane @spidergirlwanab @ohmyquackson @janoskiansecondsofdirection @yourwonderbelle @ironspiderman98 @leasly @jadedjules @blueeyedbesson @jophiehoe @embrace-themagic @stevieboyharrington @justapotatonow @confusionboner @annymcervantes @cherryhao @robfangirl @katiekinzs @theheartlocker @determinedpines @starryrevelations @logan8546 @anitalasirenita @mortumnoctis @cherrym4rk @emmyfignewton @infinityonfiction @tom-hollands-eyelash @fandomsfavorite @caitlyn-blackwell @damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight @Mae @Pasty-buns @thirteenreasons-whynot @supernaturalpllfan1 @jtorresuck @my-shameless-bouquet @kawaii-girl-101 @Tomhollandishy @allurasparker @maraudersconversations_Trash @marauders_trash_forever @jeremiah-crane

#Dogfight #Hero Writes #Tom holland #Tom holland x reader #Tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #Tom holland musical #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland angst #musical #broadway #military!tom #military!au

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funkypoacher · 7 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @evilbunnyking (thanks hun!! <3 ) tagging @sirladysketch (srry for tagging you constantly :P) @manicparadox @biggreenfeet and @redinkofshame. I really cant remember which of my ‘to-tag’ lists of people are writers/are actively writing. If you are writing but I didn’t tag you, tag me with your WIP and I’ll add you to my list!

I got... just... so much shit I really need to get done.

The Lunatic At Large (chapter one of Shenko series)

“Let’s just get to Mars first; follow through on what Hackett wants. Then we’ll see,” Kaidan advised pragmatically. He added, quietly, “can’t imagine planning three steps ahead is going to do any good in a war like this, anyways.”

Previously focusing on getting her greaves in order, Shepard stared. “Am I hearing Kaidan Alenko—Kaidan Alexis Alenko—suggesting anything other than a Plan B will save us?”

In response, he smiled almost bashfully.“No, no; not—not necessarily. I’m just saying we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. Count our chickens, and all that. We’ve got to trust that the brass knows what they’re doing.”

Shepard laughed loudly. “Sure! And maybe if they refuse to acknowledge the Reapers again, they’ll just go away. Say ‘sorry, pal’, pay the bill for damages, and hoof it back to deep space.” Her good humour fell away. “C’mon, Alenko. You can’t have forgotten what happened the last time the Alliance got wind of Reaper activity, can you? Actually”—and she knew bitterness was pointless, but she still hurt—“actually you could have forgotten, couldn’t you? In fact, you did forget, as I recall.”

Let’s Play (chapter three)

Carefully disrobing the paddy like a lover instead of imitation-beef served by hair-net toting vorchas, Shepard put it to her lips, inhaled deep, and took a large, slow chomp. Chewing, swallowing, she licked the corner of her mouth and sighed.

“Mmm. So good. I swear I haven’t sat down or eaten since I saved a certifiably fertile krogan female, thus basically curing the genophage. So it’s been a while.”

“Uh huh,” Kaidan grunted.

Shepard measured his total disconnect from reality and absolute preoccupation with her food. It was bad. Sinking her teeth in once more, she moaned as the meat hit her throat, consuming with relish the burger that had no relish.

But Kaidan’s pitiful expression—complete with nearly salivating lips—finally made Shepard laugh hard around her food. The spell was broken.

The Major’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing me,” he realized, voice raw with betrayal. “You’re doing this to torture me!”

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed.

Shepard plunged a hand into the take-out bag and presented Kaidan with his very own.

“Got you two,” she said. “And there’s fries.”

The Mystery of Pain (chapter four)

It might’ve been another lifetime ago, and it might’ve been five minutes. Since Kaidan last walked the Normandy, Commander Shepard had been in The Shit so often it was hard to scrape off. When she thought of hauling the Major’s ass from the Mars archives to the ship’s medbay, it seemed like the latter: five minutes ago. Which, although unrealistic, the man usually bounced back like a rubber ball, so why not?

As she looked at him now from a step behind, it felt like five minutes ago, too. She recognized the familiar stance and cologne; heard his unchanged soldier’s gait as boots scraped over the grating. Not only did the weeks since leaving Earth melt away, but the years before, too. Walking beside him seemed as natural or mundane as the passage of time; the passage of, say, five easy minutes in which they’d maybe even razzed each other on the elevator about grey hairs and worse-for-wear crow’s-feet.

When Kaidan looked Shepard straight in the eye, however, it was different. Worlds different. It was painful. It was a lifetime. She lost a lifetime looking at him, and it had been a lifetime since he’d last been here.

“C’mon, Hes,” he’d scowled, saying her name like it was the last time. “Look at us. This can’t end well. Just… put it down.”

She tightened her grip on the gun. The rattling, clicking sound was only slightly thicker than her resentful, pain-stricken reply. “Would I do this if I weren’t that certain, Kaidan? Would I?!”

He’d had a gun on her. For minutes. For the length and breadth of bargaining in which she’d convinced Kaidan to stand down. He’d trained his pistol-sights over her heart while they both begged, equally salient, for the other to come to their senses. They could have pulled their triggers and it’ve been just another mess in an immensely unjust war. They could have pulled their triggers, and he could have goddamn shot her.

Five minutes; a lifetime: these were nothing to the ten seconds it took to realize that professionalism didn’t mean shit when it all came down to stand-offs between allies. She’d been busting her hump trying to forget their history for the sake of bigger fish and fighting for the galaxy, but now, walking the hangar with him, Shepard was exhausted, jittery, and confused to the point that it was manifesting in a splitting, disconcerting headache.

She stared at him and tried not to.

She Does Not Brave The War (Solavellan prompt for ‘kiss in a dream’)

To come here was to face spring waters once the frost had fled. To feel through the Fade for this moment was like tempting thin ice with sure footing. Each solid step was an offering for which one might be rewarded with the swallowing cold; every tiptoe, though traded for courage, something to be repaid by faltering, fracturing ice.

“When did you know?” he’d asked.

It wasn’t grit that got into her limbs and gave them life beyond her sense. It wasn’t daring that did away with caution and carried her further than she ought. She experienced no heart-in-throat ecstasy of walking carelessly over a faintly frozen pond. She felt no bravery—only a chill.

“Maybe I didn’t,” she answered.

Solas and Ma’ven stood some feet from one another, empty, dead air between. It was her own fault, she figured, because this was her dream: winter without remorse; details mangled or missed by a livid body. This memory—accessible due to Solas’ past lessons—was less than a moment while disregarding definition wholesale. It was of Solas standing pensively sometime ago, yet that was all: context had been washed like the dirt off one’s hands. At the time she’d been too flustered, her heart so hurried, that the only impression left on her mind had been that of Solas looking thought-filled. And here she came in her weaker moments, years later, when alone with courage crumbling.

Usually she spoke to the thing. Usually she paced around the visage of Solas, talking of her ineptitude, as it stared straight on. Never she did kiss it, and, naturally, never did it kiss her back.

Until today.

Solas scolded playfully. “A dozen times you’ve dreamed of this place and never deviated from your custom. You depart directly after speaking with the spirit. Today, of course…” He seemed afraid to even name what had passed between them. Instead, he let a small smile bloom across his lips and asked again, softly, “when did you know?”

Hitched (Blackwall/Lavellan smut prompt for ‘pretending to be married’)

The wind was a whining. It rained. The downpour, neither bluster nor mild, steadily promised to sop the body and freeze bones as it birthed streams, bogged creeks, and bloated rivers like a corpse.

Pushing against the barn door with a bruised shoulder, gritting his teeth with quiet complaint, Thom kept their alms close: blanket, lamp, bread; wine. Bad wine, most likely—gone orange and sharp with age—but he hadn’t expected more from a Marcher called out of bed at midnight during sowing time. So he’d said his thanks, pressed four more coins into the their palm (plus rent for the night’s roof), and left.

Pushing open the barn door still hurt like a bitch, though.

Inside, it was clean: a cow shed repurposed to hold hay-piles which would have been better-off sheaved, but that wasn’t for Thom to say. Across the barn’s expanse lay a tall, thick carpet of yellow grasses dried in the sun which still smelt decent. Collapsed in its midst, arm and legs sprawled, was his companion.

By the time he was closing the door, Thom saw that he’d startled her. Her reaction cooling as he came in proper, she stubbornly refused to shiver, so her body was rigid with compunction.

Carefully taking the lamp from his loaded arms, she placed it on a stool. He’d be the one lighting it, however. Their flint had taken to mocking her one-armed attempts at finding a flame.

“Just the one, huh?” Vinya asked, admiring the fleece blanket that had been laid out for the sake of drying before they tried for shut-eye. “Going to be a cold night for one of us.”

“We can take turns,” Thom suggested optimistically, shedding his cloak. His gloves came off, too. “Would prefer one of us on watch, anyways. That tavern outside Markham… Well, it left a lot to be desired, let’s leave it at that.”

He was rubbing his hands when she brought him the loaf. Breaking it down the center, he handed her half.

#my writing #WIP Wednesday #long post #someone kick me in the ass and get me publishing stuff #i mean i have more #i was going to post it but deleted it #some sebastian/hawke stuff #some dawn/deacon stuff

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 8 years ago

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Hey! So first of all your blog is amazing! You just seem so sweet and awesome! Second of all, I was wondering if you knew any fun fall-themed recipes? Idk you just seem like you might know. Anyways thanks so much! Bye 💕

Yo thank you nonnie, you’re a sweetie! I don’t know much of fall-themed recipes (my country alternates between “very hot” and “even hotter” lol) but I do have the recipe of the cupcakes for which some of my friends have said they would sell their souls for. Seriously, they’re delicious. Here goes:

You’ll need:

3 tablespoons unsalted butter (76g)

3½ oz semi-sweet chocolate (100g)

2 eggs, medium size

¼ cup granulated sugar (50g)

Pinch of salt (optional)

¼ cup all-purpose flour, sifted (32g)

First, in a heat-proof mixing bowl, add in 3 ½ oz of semi-sweet chocolate. And add in 3 tablespoons of unsalted butter. Melt the whole thing in bain-marie, or, if you’re a lazy gremlin like myself, just melt it in the microwave.The chocolate melts quickly, so maybe interrupt it to mix a bit so the whole thing melts faster. Set aside.

break 2 eggs in a mixing bowl and ¼ cup of granulated sugar and whisk until pale in color (some ppl add a pinch of salt here).

Now pour melted chocolate into egg mixture. And stir until well combined.

Then sift in ¼ cup of flour and whisk until combined. Don’t worry if it looks too liquid, its gonna get firmer later on.

If you can get a silicon mold, they don’t stick so much. either way, you should maybe apply a thin layer of butter and flour so it wont stick after it’s done.

Pour the batter into a your ramekin or cupcake silicon-thingy (look pal it’s midnight and english is not my fist language, I’m so sorry lol). And bake in the oven preheated to 355 degrees (180C) for about 11 minutes. Go checking if it’s done by sticking the wooden end of a matchstick on one of them; if it comes out sticky, it ain’t done. if it comes clean, it’s done!

Out of oven, let cool for 10 minutes on a wire rack. And serve. Pro tip: eat it warm because the middle of it is kinda molten chololate from the heavens above!! additional pro tip: serve it warm with ice cream! Hmmm!

I hope it works out fine! I tried to translate my recipe as well as I could! Good luck anon! :*

#food m/#this...this was an unexpected ask #but hey i hope it works out fine!

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sheepydraws · 8 years ago

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I’ll Kick Your Ass, I’ll Kick My Fiancee’s Ass, I’ll Kick My Own Ass! (2/11)

Also on Ao3

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Part 2: Orientation

A slim black notebook with gilded pages. The cover is leather(ish) except for a shiny rectangle where the words “Diary” once were. However, on the inside cover is a nameplate that says, “This Diary Belongs To:” and is signed, “Akane Tendo”:

Why do I bother keeping this thing? All I do is read the entries where I’m happy and excited and figure everything will work out, and then I feel even more upset about what actually happened.

So, yeah. Dad went through with his threat-I mean, “frugality”, and made Nabiki drive down here with me and Kasumi. Nabiki was a total bitch about it so we didn’t get here till two. It’s a good thing Kasumi doesn’t look like a parent, cause she was supposed to be gone by five, but she couldn’t get out till six.

Once she was gone Nabiki went to the dining hall with me, probably just so I could ask, “Why is it so empty in here?” and she could say, “They’re probably all at their first assembly.” with a nonchalant sip of milk.

Her fucking soy milk that she isn’t even supposed to bring into the dining room.

So I scarfed my food and ran to the big arts hall, and I burst into the auditorium just in time for the sexual health and gender lecture.

They had just gotten to the part about gender identity.

I wanted to back out of the auditorium and punch myself in the face.

But I didn’t. Cause that would be even weirder than busting into an auditorium like it was prom night in an eighties movie.

So. Whatever. Great. A great way to start.

Technically nothing starts till tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. I’ll actually meet people tomorrow, and we’ll do reading and stuff, and there won’t be any more awkward lectures about consent where everyone wants to laugh, or, at least, I want to laugh, but not laugh, but there’s a part of me that just wants to giggle every time they say sex.

It’s okay. Already it’s better than last year because everyone here is going to know me as Akane Tendo, and Ranma Fucking Saotome is two hundred miles away.

Now that is a good way to start the year.

Last Five Posts on okonomiyakimeansiloveyou.tumblr.com:

5. A big ole gooey slab of okonomiyaki spread with special sauce and mayonnaise, marbled so as to resemble the pattern usually seen on mille-feuille.

4. Fanart for Elementary.

3. Beyoncé on feminism, gif set.

2. A photo of a dorm room. Thin white curtains hang from the open window, grazing a bookcase (doubling as a bedside table) scattered with perfume, contact lens case, note book, colored pens, and an orientation flier face down. #already a mess #of course #makes it feel more like home

1. A picture of two girls sitting cross legged on a bed together. One is chubby, with her hair done up in two big buns. It’s so dark it is almost purple (or is that a trick of the light, or a botched dye job?) She’s smiling and making a peace sign with one hand, the other wrapped around the neck of a bottle of grape soda. The girl next to her looks like she was doing the same thing, but she jostled her can of ginger ale, and the photo catches her mid-jerk, hair whipping out behind her as she turns, trying to steady herself.

The next photo is the chubbier girl laughing as the other slumps against the wall, a hand over her face.

She’s smiling, though.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dude, bro, man, pal,

I’ve got a tournament, so I won’t actually be at school till orientation’s over (I didn’t know orientation was a thing, but whatever, the dean cleared me, so it’s fine) so do whatever you want to the room. I’ll deal. Should be there sometime Sunday.

See ya!

Ranma Saotome

——Bitches ain’t shit!

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Akari,

it’s almost midnight, but I really wanted to tell you that I got here okay, and it’s actually a lot nicer than you thought it would be. It’s not Oxford, but I like the view out my window. Our dorm is kind of built into a hill, so my room is on the ground floor, but there’s a story high drop right out my window, then a hill, then the woods. They’re the kind of thin, scraggly woods you get a lot in America, but I bet it’ll be amazing in a few months when all the leaves start changing color.

That’s really all there is to talk about. I haven’t even met my roommate yet because he has a martial arts tournament and won’t be here for orientation. I looked him up and he’s apparently some martial arts prodigy—if that’s a thing??? Maybe I’ll have something more interesting to write about when he does show up, but for now I just wanted to tell you I’m doing well, and I miss you, and I hope you’re okay, too.

Love, Ryoga

A fluffy pink volume with a tiny heart shaped lock you could break by jamming a switch blade in it. Although why would you want to, since Kodachi would probably repurpose it as an overwrought metaphor, thusly:

The sun rises

But the black veil of my loneliness

Will not be pierced.

I walk the balance beam with purpose

But tears slide aimless down my cheeks.

My misery fills me up. Roots my feet to the beam.

I break from gravity

Yet I cannot fly.

If twirling upside down can not change my perspective—-

How can college ever hope to manage it?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Your receipt for transaction #34092:

1 Carton Bailey’s Farm Fresh Milk:Whole Fat

4 packs of erasers

2 Canisters Smirnoff Whipped Cream

3 Jars Bacardi Maraschino Cherries (1 without flavoring, 2 with watermelon)

Total: 167.55USD

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Your receipt for transaction #39475:

5 Cartons Snappy Ice Cream (peppermint, peach, cinnamon bun)

6 loaves of bread, Blue Ribbon Artisanal.

4 packs Dom P’s dogs

2 cartons Altoid’s Mints

Total: 443.46USD

Facebook messenger:

Shampoo: Psssst—You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a party this weekend.

Ukyo: Who’d you hear that from?

Shampoo: Dude in my discussion group mentioned it. Said it’s a freshman only thing.

Ukyo: Sounds lame.

Shampoo: Nah, he said it would be in that four person room, in the basement of the guys dorm? It’s big and the closest TA is a floor away so…

Ukyo: What do you think freshman can even get up to?

Shampoo: Ukyo, we’re college freshman now. What can’t we get up to? ;3

Shampoo: Also dude was bragging that there would be enough booze to drown in.

Ukyo: I guess I can’t say no to bathing in bacardi ;)

Shampoo’s phone ——> Mousse’s phone

Could you tell gran that I can’t come home

this weekend?

Why don’t you do it?

You know she’s bad with texting.

She has more social . media accounts than . you do.

Restaurant stuff doesn’t count.

Still.

You could tell her if . you wanted.

She’ll just talk me out of it. Ask

me, ‘why can’t you come see

your poor ailing grandmother?’

Fine. Only because . you still fall for that . when I am literally . watching her haul a . dead pig out of the . car and gut it like a . fish.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Ryoga,

I miss you so much!!!! At least once the term starts I’ll have classes to keep me busy, but for now all I do is think about you and hope America hasn’t roughed you up too much. I know it’s a small college, you wanted to be closer to your mom, etc. but I’m still a little worried about how a year abroad is going to treat you.

At least I’ll get you for Christmas. It seems so far off (121 days, if you’re bored enough to count) but I know it’ll be here in a second; some years it’s like I get out of the pool and slide right into a jumper and waffle treads.

I hope your orientation thing is going well. Are you actually doing any work, or are they just making sure you know where the washing machines are? Did I tell you that when my Aunt Jackie was doing her first term she slept in the washing machine room for a week because her roommate always had her boyfriend over? I’ve heard so many college horror stories now that I’m going there. It reminds me of my first cooking competition. It’s only after you’ve been accepted and can’t back out that everyone starts talking about that time their oven exploded or their creme fresh was trés rotten. But I’m sure we can tackle this together. <3

All my love,

Akari.

——killin’ me softly/and I’m still fallin’/Still the one I need/I will always be with you

Kodachi’s Journal:

Oh!

That I were like the sparrow!

Free to leave come the winter

And return to any nest I chose.

Trapped in this prison.

Smiling

And behind my smile

I wonder

Who here can not bear the pain of the ambiguity of their emphembral ephmenral limited existence?

Am I alone in my pain?

Perhaps I could relive myself

If only I had a true grand experience

A truly life defining moment

To write about

For this stupid assignment

Which torments my dreams.

Akane’s Diary:

He’s here.

I was in the boys dorm because Betty, (this girl I’ve been hanging out with, Bio major) wanted to grab her boyfriend for dinner. Like in the girl’s dorm, everyone’s room has a little paper square with their name on it on the door, and there it was. In smeary comic sans on door 1C: Ranma Saotome.

Fuck.

Why did I think I could ever just go somewhere and be Akane Tendo?

All I wanted was a school no one from my high school was going to. Somewhere really liberal and maybe on the small side. Somewhere where no one would know me as the guy who’s now a girl who got engaged and then threw down with his/her fiancé in the fucking parking lot.

It’s almost funny. I should have expected this out of my bad sitcom of a life. I should have realized that Ranma’s complete lack of drive, combined with his inability to let down his father, and my father’s apparent desire to ruin my life by associating me with them, would cause this to happen.

Of course he would be enrolled here.

Of course.

Why do I ever hope things will change?

No, no, no pity party. I can change this. I can set Ranma straight. I could get him expelled if I wanted. Fuck him! I am not the one who doesn’t belong here, I shouldn’t be the one to leave.

Final Orientation Assignment

Please write a narrative essay describing a life changing event. The event chosen may be big or small, but the essay must fully describe an experience that changed the way you view the world, how you choose to live your life, etc. The experience may be as personal in nature as you like. You will not have to read in front of your group, though you will be invited to.

Requirements:1,000-2,500 words in length.

Must be narrative in structure. Remember, scene not summary!

Must be an event that affected you. You may not write about another’s experience.

NOTE: Due to issues in previous years, please do not write about losing your virginity, or other sexual experiences. Coming out has been a common topic among these essays, but we ask that you refrain from explicitly sexual material.

Ukyo Kuonji Orientation Group 1 August 18th

How I Learned the Truth

Your best friend should always tell you the truth. I told my best friend that, and he told me the truth: that he had always been a boy. A few years later he told me another truth: That he liked me. Then I came out, and I believed that the truth will set your free, and every other platitude, besides. Love is friendship that has caught fire. The world is your oyster. Tuna is good for your health.

Then my boyfriend told me another truth: He was engaged.

I, the person, who would believe anything, said, “Yeah, right.” I was stupid enough to wonder if what he had said was the start of a proposal.

He stared at me, toying with the scarf around his neck. We were standing at the front gate of our high school. He’d been waiting for me there, early for once, even though it was November and was already cold enough that most people were scurrying inside as fast as they could.

The front yard was fairly empty, so Ranma’s boots scuffling on the cement became the loudest sound.

“I’m engaged to this guy.” He said.

“You don’t even like guys.” I said, forgetting that the rest of the world doesn’t know my boyfriend. Doesn’t always think of him as a boy.

“My dad, he wants me to marry this guy. He’s got this idea, you know, cause I’m going to take over the dojo.” “There isn’t a dojo to take over.” I said, forgetting that Ranma would dive into a pit of hungry cats if his father asked him to. Would gladly take over an imaginary dojo.

“His family has one. A real dojo. It’s really nice. They’re that family dad and I have dinner with on Sundays. You met them once, remember? That’s why I was so weird that day. Our dads were already talking about this.” Under his breath he added, “Making shitty innuendos, even.”

I had already forgotten the faces of the huge family who all rushed past me on their way out of Ranma’s house, but I remembered vividly how good they had smelled, one of them holding a stack of tupperware, steam condensing on the lids. Ranma had been a little weird after that, but I thought it was because we had sex for the first time about a week ago and it was that sort of, pass-me-a-chip-will-you-person-I-lost-my-virginity-to? awkwardness. Not Oh-and-by-the-way-I’m-engaged-to-someone-else-because-I-constantly-crave-my-father’s-approval awkwardness.

I didn’t even know they made that kind.

“But you love me.” I said, and that was the truth. I took Ranma’s hand and pressed it to my chest, except I was a bit overzealous and slammed it into the soft spot between my collarbone and breasts. It bruised. “If your parents are going to suggest a child marriage, why-why don’t you and I get married?”

The second worst truth I learned that day was that I would have done that. I would have skipped school, stolen my father’s car, and found a court house. I would have married Ranma. I could see him and I bursting into my house, red cheeked from the wind and happiness, clutching the marriage license between us, smiling and laughing and invulnerable.

Ranma’s hand slid from mine. Our marriage license fluttered to the ground.

“One, we’re not eighteen. Two…” Ranma held my eyes for a moment, and it was the worst moment of my life because I saw the truth: All those emotions I thought were love, they could be boxed up and pushed aside. Perhaps not without some angst, but it could be done. The truth was that love can not climb mountains. It can’t cure illness. It can’t even argue with your father.

Love is friendship that has caught fire, sure, but then it goes out and the friendship has all burned up. No love lasts. Not the love between a child and their parent, not the love between friends, not the love between lovers. Eventually all you have is a hope of love as you do everything in your power to hold on to the person who used to embody it.

The late bell rang and we both headed inside. We were walking next to each other, but not together. That was when I decided that if Ranma didn’t have to care about this, I didn’t have to either. I wasn’t going to become like him, chasing down love and trying to corner it in dark alleys. I boxed up all my feelings and tossed them down the back stairs. Along with all the shit he had ever given me or left at my house over the years. My dad watched from his chair in the living room as I found every single book, sock, and stupid trinket that I knew was his.

“I thought you two were going to prom together.” My dad said while I was rummaging under the couch. Before my mother left she told me all sorts of important things, like that I should go to therapy and that my parents lost their virginity to each other at prom. I have a feeling my father suspected that Ranma and I were going to keep up the tradition, sans ditching our real dates by the punch bowl.

“Prom’s not till next year.” I emerged from under the couch covered in dust bunnies.

“Still. I thought you two had plans.”

“We do.” They just aren’t the same ones.

My father leaned forward in his chair and put his hands on his knees. “Ukyo, I just want to know what Ranma did to upset you, and if it warrants me going down there with a gun.”

“You don’t have a gun, dad.” I kicked up the rug to see if anything had been swept under it. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t threaten a kid with it.”

“I don’t think you’re kids anymore. You can certainly hurt each other like adults.”

“He didn’t hurt me. He just doesn’t love me anymore.” Of course that was the fact that made my gut burn like there was a hot knife in it, but it was a fact. Ranma hadn’t hurt me. He told me the truth.

Genma’s phone——-> Ranma’s phone

Ranma?

Did you go to get the food? I want two breasts and coleslaw.

Ranma?

Either you’re dead in a ditch or you’re going to be.

August 20th . Orientation group 4 . Ryoga Hibiki

An Experience That Changed My Life.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

I’m in love.

Okay, okay, wait, here’s the punchline: She’s not my girlfriend. Or a friend. Or even my mom.

I just found out that I’ve never been in love before, not with any of those people. I fell in love two nights ago, when I woke up to someone screaming my roommate’s name.

It took me a second to wake up all the way, and for my brain to turn the sounds I was hearing into words, but then it was clear as day.

“Ranma Saotome! Ranma Saotome, I know you’re in there!”

I cranked the window open even further and stuck my head out to scream back, but then I saw her and I just…

She’s so beautiful. She was on the ledge where the hill behind my dorm starts. She stood straight, her fists clenched, shaking with anger. Her hair was cut sharp and short, and her eyes were huge in the strange light. Half blue moonlight, half disturbingly orange street lamp. The glow was unearthly. She was awesome—The old meaning of the word, beautiful and terrible and probably not to be touched, but magnetic all the same.

She paused for a second, then screamed

“RANMA SAOTOME!”

with her whole heart, and all her breath besides.

“He’s not here!” I yelled back.

“Shut up!” She took another breath, ready to scream all night for retribution, so I continued,

“I’m serious, he had a tournament. He won’t be here till orientation ends. He sent me an email about it. I’m his roommate.” It was probably a little garbled, because I don’t have the lung capacity that Akane does, but she understood me. She was quiet for a moment.

“Come in!” I yelled, “We can talk about it.”

“Shut up!” Someone screamed from a different floor.

“Okay!” She said, and she took off running. She was barefoot under her skirt and her legs were so long when she ran they shortened the ground beneath her.

I was watching her run when I remembered that I was in my boxers. I jumped back from the window, put on a light, turned on some pants, and hoped my room didn’t already reek of b.o.

Then she was in my room, and she was just as ethereal under the fluorescents as she had been outside. Her eyes slid from the bare mattress on one side of the room to my half. Not that there was much difference. White sheets, my yellow flannel pillow case that I’ve had since I was ten, half of my key chain collection hanging over my desk and the tiny plastic replicas of the crown jewels. There were also a few postcards and the rest of my keychain collection piled on top of my desk, waiting to be hung up properly.

“I’m Ryoga Hibki,” I said, extending my hand to shake.

“Akane Tendo.” She said, and I found out that her hands had thick calluses on them. It was surprising when I had expected soft skin, but given the smoothness when she ran maybe I shouldn’t have.

“What do you need with Ranma?” I asked. I managed to lean casually against my desk and not slip and crack my head on a varnished corner and kill myself.

“He…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “He and I have some history we need to sort out.”

My heart plummeted, then rose so quickly I felt dizzy. What did that mean? Was it good? For me? All I knew was that I had to say something similar if she asked about Akari. Lets say she somehow intuited that I currently had a girlfriend. Let’s say. But I won’t very very soon.

“So he put a tournament over orientation and got away with it.” She muttered. “Of course.”

“Well, it’s not like it takes much orienting.” I said, “Y’know, the dorms are here, the classrooms are over there, and the vending machine is down the hall. I figured it all out on my first day.” I puffed my chest up like that was an accomplishment, and she laughed, which actually was one.

“I know. All he’s really missing out on is having to write this dumb essay thing.” (I’m sorry if that offends you, but you said we should all be as honest as possible in these essays. Actually, if that’s true, I wonder if you’re going to have a stack of essays about how stupid these essays are. Not that I think they’re stupid, but that’s just the sort of smart-ass thing a bunch of college freshman would try to get away with).

Anyway, I’ll have to skim a bit, because she said some really personal things about her, and this guy, and the not-relationship they have, even though their parents seem to be bent on getting them together, and you said we weren’t supposed to write about someone else’s experience, so I’ll let Akane write about that in her essay if she wants.

But, even if I can’t tell you exactly what she said, I think I can tell you how she said it. How she enunciates the important words very clearly, how she wiggles her hips a little bit when she’s excited, and how we talked and talked and talked for so long I almost didn’t have the time to sit down and write an entirely new essay. Not that the original one was any good(it was about coming here, and how I’m really excited to be in one place for a whole four years, but that is an experience I hope to have, not one I already did, so I knew it was bullshit from the start), and maybe this one isn’t much better. I mean, it’s just about me falling in love. I’m sure this whole thing has been done to death, but goddamn.

I never got it, you know, the endless poems, and songs, and books about love. I suppose that’s proof right there that I was never in love. I didn’t see it that way at the time. I thought, ‘Sure, love’s great, but does everyone really need to be going on about it all the time?’, but now that I’m in it, I mean sunk so deep I feel weightless, I’ve found out that love is more than worth going on and on about. I mean, I don’t know how I can keep myself from just getting up in the middle of class and saying, “Hey, this Sandra Cisneros poem is great and all, but who wants to talk about how perfect Akane’s laugh is? Like, is there a scientifically provable better sound out there? And, if so, is it even worth tracking down?”

All those cheesy things they say about love, they’re true. And when you feel them down to your bones you find that they fill you up until everything you know about love just comes pouring out.

Face book, Ranma Saotme, Latest post:

A picture of a slushie larger and more red than anything humans were ever meant to ingest in one sitting, jammed into a car cupholder.

The caption above reads: Road trip=cheat day, right? ;p

Ranma’s phone——> Genma’s phone

Just got to school. Figured I might

as well head out.

Glad you were so excited to see

Akane. But how am I supposed

to get my car back?

Seen ✓

What the fuck does that mean?

Ranma, I want my car back.

Ryoga’s phone——-> Ranma’s phone

I dunno when you’re done with

the dean or whatever

But some guys are having a

party in our dorm. You know

the basement room?

No, but I’m ready to party

Excellent.

CRAZY DRUNK FRESHMAN CAN DANCE AND DUEL??!!

A video clearly taken on a smart phone and simply thrown onto youtube, given the huge black margins. The footage is grainy, but not badly lit.

It’s hard to tell if the room is a basement or a living room, given the concrete floors. It sure looks like a house party, though, young people milling around with red cups, someone laughing obnoxiously loud just off camera.

The music that was playing unobtrusively in the background suddenly blares into the foreground as the camera is trained on a desk covered in half eaten junk food.

“Oh shit!” Someone screams, “I know this one!”

Heads turn in the direction of the voice. The camera doesn’t.

A guy lands on the cluttered table. You don’t see him leap, just land. He’s debatably handsome, and clearly drunk, though he still manages to get down with considerable skill. A bit off balance, perhaps with more booty wiggles than a sober person would allow themselves, but the boy can dance.

People are starting to crowd around the makeshift stage, and the camera is hiked higher.

“Hey!” The guy yells, breaking out of his dancing reverie to single out someone not visible from this far back. “Come on, dance with me!” He slides out of view, but a second later he jumps back onto the table, carrying a girl princess-style. She’s wearing a conservatively cut red velvet dress, like she’s at her cousin’s Christmas recital or something, but she looks appropriately confused at this sudden turn of events.

The guy sets her down on the table and starts dancing around her. Not like a bird doing a mating dance, but more like she’s a pole. A pole he finds very attractive. Hoots and whistles emanate from the crowd. The camera is jostled, and for a second whoever is holding it turns and we can see someone with a long brown ponytail and a grin taking up their entire face.

“Send me a copy of this!” They yell. “That asshole’s my ex!”

“Oh, okay,” Says our cameraman. They focus on this person for another second as they laugh, before remembering what they were supposed to be doing and the camera swings back to the main attraction.

The girl on the table has gone bright red, and seems to be trying to distract herself from the fact that half of her class is watching a guy grind on her when she yells, “So what’s your name?”

He kisses her cheek and spins her around, before dropping to one knee, “Ranma Saotome!” He says, before taking her hand and kissing it, as though this is a proper introduction from another era.

“Kodachi!” Someone screams from the back of the room. This time when heads turn the camera follows. A man stands in the open door. He’s sober and wearing a nice button up, so he’s probably not a freshman. He marches toward the table, parting his underclassman like a green sea.

“Ranma Saotome!” He yells in Ranma’s face.

Ranma is still bent over Kodachi’s hand.

“That’s me!” He replies, with a shit eating grin.

The other man seethes for a moment. You can almost see steam rising off of him like a giant boar.

“Ranma Saotome, for besmirching my sisters honor, I, Tatewaki Kuno, shall duel you.”

“What, like, at dawn?”

Tatewaki reaches up and sweeps the girl, who, now that he mentions it, does share his dark, thick hair and elegant nose, down from the table. “At dawn it shall be. I look forward to seeing you on your knees.”

“I don’t swing that way, man.” Ranma says, smacking Tatewaki good naturedly on the back from his perch.

Tatewaki bristles. “You will be begging for mercy!” He goes back the way he came, stopping at the door to adjust his sister’s weight in his arms and announce, “You and I, at dawn, on the hill behind the science compound.”

“Can it be more like six am?” Someone in the crowd yells, and after a general murmur of agreement both men decide that six will be a better time.

“Six on the dot!” Tatewaki says, probably just so he has something to yell before sweeping out dramatically.

“See ya!” Ranma calls back with a cheery wave, ruining the effect.

The video cuts out.

A flimsy, spiral bound note book, with a little tulip on the front, and the words, “MY DIARY” in a faux-childish scrawl. It spends most nights under Kuno’s pillow. Not that he’s scared of his roommate-a brother in kendo-reading it, but he believes that if he sleeps with his transcribed thoughts near him someday his body and his mind and his heart may all line up and stop vexing him with different desires. It hasn’t worked yet, but it hasn’t messed his neck up either, so he keeps at it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Okay. Alright. I will remain calm. While this is not an auspicious start to this year, I am sure that all this can be cleared up before the end of the semester. Perhaps before September is out.

You recall, of course, how that vile creature, Ranma Saotome, assaulted my sister’s honor. So I challenged him to a duel in order to best defend it. A few students got into trouble for this sort of thing last year, but they were arguing over the Star Wars prequels, and I believe they had guns besides.

At any rate.

There we were, he and I, (and the expected crowd of onlookers) standing on the field that slopes down toward the science building, the mist rolling in, dawn greying the sky above us. It was quite a romantic setting, rather like the rolling moors of Scotland or Ireland—Wherever it is that they have rolling moors and mist in great abundance.

Nabiki Tendo was strutting around as though she had organized the event. Anything for money or attention, I suppose. That she never wishes to be an actress is a great blow to the industry (and likely robs many fine directors of one).

At any rate, there we were, my opponent and I, and he had come unarmed. Also, he was swaying rather strangely. There was no music, and he did not seem to have any headphones. It occurred to me that he may be suffering from over intoxication, but he had agreed to this duel, so it was entirely his problem if he was ill.

Still, I had not expected him to bring a weapon, so I tossed him my back up wood.

“My back up wood.” I explained as he stared quizzically at the sword he had just caught.

He turned his confused gaze to me. “As in, like, back up onto it?”

I wanted to spit at his crudity, but I am not an eye for an eye sort of man, so I managed to restrain myself.

“Draw your weapon!” I said.

He held his sword out as though he were far sighted and needed a better look at it.

“Alright!” Nabiki Tendo yelled. I shudder to recall how her voice rolled across the hill. She makes my skin crawl, and I’m sure she knows it. She winked at me. I wonder if she chalked my shivering up to the mist.

“Gentlemen, you will stand with your backs pressed against each other,” Saotome made a remark related to his earlier statement about my sword that does not bear repeating, “Walk five paces, turn, and draw.” She damned me with her smile once again. “Just to keep things equal. Alright, boys?”

It was not equal, I will say that right now. I knew that my opponent was not classically trained, but I had not expected him to throw his sword at me! I deflected it, of course, but then it was his whole body that was hurtling toward me. I was shocked that I was immediately on the defensive, but I did not intend to remain there. I not only dodged, but managed to spin him with a slight blow which knocked him much further off balance than it might a sober opponent.

He retaliated and almost wrenched the sword from my hands by bouncing off of it, but I got in an uppercut that must have bruised one of his thighs, and I would have done much worse… Oh, he should tremble at night at the thought of what I may have done to him!

But that was when I heard screaming, and the crowd watching us dispersed. It took me a moment to understand just what was happening, but then I caught sight of the back of Nabiki Tendo’s head, and, though I am not a sailor, I too understand what it means when rats flee a ship.

Now, I am a man of honor, but I am also a man who doesn’t want an expulsion on my record. I ran into the green house that adjoins the science building, wiggled through the doggy door that would get me into the science building proper, and hid in the room where they’ve been doing laser experiments. A perfectly honorable way to flee, I assure you.

At any rate, though I wish I had given Saotome an real injury to consider rather than merely the threat of one, I feel safe that my sister’s honor was as protected as it could be under the circumstances.

Kodachi’s Journal:

My darling.

Forgive me

The vile things done in the name of my honor,

I assure you my honor was not bruised, nor even beset.

The purity my brother imagines of me is not of my design.

Though,

I admit.

Never before your hands

and thighs

and rock hard ass

has another man’s touched me as yours did.

I know you will understand when I explain it to you.

I hear you did admirably in my name

Perhaps you have grasped my feelings already

We share a link unbound by the laws of time and space.

In fact, as I fell asleep last night,

I could hear your name in my chest rather than a beat.

Ran-ma

Now my life begins.

#ranma 1/2 #fanfiction #college au #episotary #rankane #chapter 2 #i'll kick your ass i'll kick my fiancees ass i'll kick my own ass #personal #text #long post #ranma saotome #kodachi kuno

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