#no tv and beige walls french door

[wanderers-of-sornieth]

Living Room Enclosed

[cattenkitten]

Enclosed - Traditional Family Room

[aprilcarstairs]

Enclosed (Minneapolis)

[moneyfemdom]

Basement (Philadelphia)

[fowlershow]

Family Room - Mediterranean Family Room

[theamazingtutorials]

Living Room (Los Angeles)

[erkiengill]

Farmhouse Living Room - Living Room

[lyranova]

Mocha Dreams and Earl Grey Realities:

Chapter 2: The First Day of School

Hi guys! I apologize this chapter took so long, but it’s finally here! We get to see a glimpse into both Yuno and Neva’s home lives, and we get to see the two finally meet; and we may or may not get a few cameos from some favorite characters 🤭. I hope you all enjoy~!

Word Count: 3,510

Warnings: Hints at anxiety

————

The Next Day

Neva let out a quiet groan as she slowly opened her eyes, and for a brief moment she was confused as to where she was. The walls weren’t the same lavender purple color with white trim around the tops and bottoms, all of her trinkets and books weren’t on the shelves or on her desk..everything was different.

“ Ah, that’s right, I’m at William’s apartment now,” She quietly reminded herself as her vision grew more and more clear.

She slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The room was bare but spacious with only a small desk, bookshelf, and dresser, the walls were a neutral beige color, and her bed was a bit smaller than the one she had at home, but not uncomfortably small.

When she had walked into her room last night, William had assured her that they could easily design it in any way she wanted, and that they could go and get things she wanted during his day off.

“ Even if it’s only for a short while, I want you to feel happy and comfortable here, since this is your home now too…”

A soft sigh escaped Neva as William’s words echoed in her mind; even though he prefaced his sentence with “only for a short while” she had a feeling she would be here for a lot longer than that…

Suddenly, the faint smell of breakfast floated into her room from the kitchen, causing her stomach to growl in response.

“ I guess I’m a lot hungrier than I thought…” She mused with a quiet chuckle as she placed a hand over her abdomen and gave it a small pat as it growled again.

She quickly got out of bed, walked out of her bedroom, and made her way down the small hallway until she came to the small kitchen area that was just off to the side of the living room area.

Neva looked around the room; there was a flat screen TV on the left side of the living room, a sofa on the right that sat in front of it with a wooden coffee table in between. On the far wall there was a sliding glass door that led to what she presumed was a small balcony.

“ I wonder what the view is like…I didn’t get a chance to see it last night when I arrived.” Neva wondered as she stared at the glass door.

She quietly walked over towards it and pulled back the thin white curtain covering it, hoping to be greeted with a stunning view that would take her breath away; but sadly, that was not the view she was greeted with.

Instead, her view consisted of multiple different buildings, including what appeared to be a luxury apartment complex.

“ On the other side of that building is the lake that runs through the city,” William explained suddenly, pulling Neva out of her slightly disappointed thoughts. “ I’m sorry there isn’t much of a view from this room, but you have a much better view of it from your bedroom window.”

Neva slowly nodded, she vaguely remembered him mentioning something about her bedroom having the best view last night, but she had been too tired to look and see.

“ Breakfast is ready by the way,” William told her as he turned the stove off and began to make their plates.

She turned away from the balcony and walked over to the small, round dining table that sat in the little dining area they had.

As she sat down, he quickly came over and brought her a plate of food and a glass of milk before rushing over to the counter to grab his own breakfast and a cup of coffee before sitting down across from her.

“ French toast?” She asked with a bit of a frown as she stared down at french toast covered in powdered sugar and topped with strawberries and syrup.

William nodded.

“ It’s still your favorite right?” He asked, his voice becoming slightly uncertain as she stared down at her plate.

Eventually, she raised her head slightly and gave him a nod as a small smile appeared on her face.

“ Yeah, it’s still my favorite.” She confirmed softly as she picked up her fork and knife and began to cut into the pieces of french toast.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped him as he watched her eat; he had remembered it being her favorite breakfast meal ever since she was younger, and to see that that hadn’t changed, made him very happy.

Finally, the pair finished their breakfast and William quickly cleared the table.

“ I’m sorry it wasn’t as good as Ms. Idalia’s french toast,” He apologized as he walked back over to the table and sat down.

Neva shook her head.

“ No one's toast is as good as my moms,” She said with a small smile. “ So don’t feel bad.”

William chuckled.

“ I don’t know, the chef’s we have at the Blackbird can make pretty good food, so I’m sure their french toast would be able to rival your mom’s.” He told her, and a soft chuckle escaped him when Neva scoffed.

“ I doubt it.” She replied confidently, her head raised and her gaze somewhat defiant.

Neva would fight anyone and everyone who dared to say that their food, especially their bread and pastries, were better than her mother’s.

As their conversation died down William glanced over at the clock, it was 7:00, and Neva had to be at school by 8:00 so she wouldn’t be late.

“ C’mon, I’ll walk you to school on my way to work.” He told her as he stood up and took one final sip of his coffee.

Neva slowly stood up and frowned at him.

“ But, I thought you worked during the afternoons?” She asked in slight confusion as she began to follow him down the hall.

“ I changed shifts yesterday, so I’ll be able to walk you to school in the mornings,” He replied as he walked into his room. “ But when school’s over, I won’t be able to pick you up, so you’ll have to walk to the café and wait until my shift is over. Okay?”

Neva’s frown deepened.

“ I’m not a kid anymore William,” She began as she crossed her arms. “ I can walk home by myself after school. I do it all the time in Drysor.”

William paused slightly, she had a point; he wasn’t able to use her age as an excuse as to why she wasn’t able to walk home by herself, after all, she was eighteen now and not fourteen…

“ Because…I said so?”

Apparently, that wasn’t a good enough answer, because Neva just raised her brow and her eyes narrowed at him.

“ Try again.” She replied firmly, and William sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why did she have to ask so many questions?!

“ Can you just…please do as I ask? Just this once, Neva.” He asked, his voice sounding slightly exasperated as his brain failed to come up with an excuse.

She stared at him for what felt like minutes, but was actually a few seconds, before she slowly nodded.

“ Alright, but just this once.” She muttered before she walked into her room and shut the door so she could get ready for school.

William closed his bedroom door as well and let out a sigh as he leaned back against it; she was smart, almost too smart…she would figure out he was keeping something from her sooner rather than later, which meant that he would need to come up with better and better excuses quickly before she figured it all out.

———

Meanwhile, in the Luxury apartments by the lake

Yuno frowned a bit as he stared at himself in the mirror; he straightened his golden yellow blazer, smoothed out his green, checkered pants, and tightened up his tie…so why did something feel so out of place?

He looked at his white shirt collar and his frown deepened, maybe it was because he had it buttoned all the way up?

He quickly reached beneath the tie and unfastened the top two buttons, and a sigh of relief escaped him.

That was better, much better, he still felt a little suffocated…but nowhere near as bad before.

“ Why does this school have to have uniforms? Why can’t we just dress casually like other schools do?” He questioned as he looked himself over once more.

When was the last time he had to wear a uniform to school? Was it when-?

“ Yuno! Breakfast is ready!” His mom called from the other side of the bedroom door, pulling Yuno out of his thoughts.

He let out another sigh before he grabbed his book bag and walked out of his room. As he made his way to the kitchen he glanced up at the large, round clock that hung on the wall of their living room.

It was 7:30…if he didn’t leave now he would be late for class.

“ Yuno, come have breakfast!” Ciel, Yuno’s mother, called softly as she leaned over the counter with a plate of food in her hand.

“ Can’t. I’m going to be late for school.” Yuno told her as he walked past his mom and the plate of food and headed straight to the door of their apartment.

He could feel her narrowed eyes on the back of his head and heard a soft ‘huff’ escape her as she set the plate of food down onto the counter and began to walk towards him.

“ Just a little bite? Please?” She asked softly, and Yuno shook his head.

“ Sorry, maybe tomorrow.” He muttered as he took off his house shoes and began to slip on his school ones.

He heard his mom sigh in disappointment and slightly winced; he hated it when she sighed like that, and usually he was the only one who caused her to do that.

At least lately.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to stand up straight and turn to see his mom staring at him with a soft and gentle gaze.

“ Nervous?” She asked, and he frowned slightly before shaking his head.

“ No, why?”

“ Well…we’ve only just recently rejoined society again as our real selves, so I thought you might be nervous about it.” She replied softly, a gentle smile appearing on her face.

“ I’m not nervous, mom.” He told her quickly as he turned away and went back to putting his shoes on.

He felt his mothers hand move from his shoulder up to his hair, where she gently began to pet his hair comfortingly.

“ Yuno,” She began softly as she reached around with her other hand to move his face so he was looking at her again. “ I know it’s nerve wracking, and maybe a little strange, but we can’t hide in Witness Protection forever.”

“ I want you to be able to go out with friends, live and be free like everyone else your age, instead of being cooped up in a gated community that’s only inhabited by adults that work in the government and no other kids.”

Yuno’s gaze shifted away towards the wall.

“ I didn’t mind it y’know, being around adults all the time,” He muttered as a hand moved to the back of his neck. “ Besides, there were other kids…they were just on the internet, and in different parts of the world, that I could talk to.”

Ciel softly chuckled as she patted his hair again.

“ That’s not the same thing though, honey,” She told him before she leaned forward and placed a quick kiss onto his forehead. “ Now don’t worry, and don’t be nervous Yuno; you’ll get used to this new life, and you’ll learn how wonderful it is to know people.”

He sighed softly at his mothers words of encouragement, she was trying her best…so that meant he needed to try his best too. Even if it made him uncomfortable.

“ An apple,” He suddenly said as he finished putting on his shoes.

“ What?” Ciel asked with a confused frown.

“ I’ll eat an apple on my way to school, and tomorrow I’ll wake up early to have breakfast with you.” He told her softly as stood up straight and fixed his jacket sleeves.

“ Really?” She asked as her face lit up. When he nodded she clapped her hands a bit before turning around and rushing towards the kitchen. “ Wait there, I’ll go get you one!”

He watched his mother retreat around the wall into the kitchen and shook his head as a soft smile appeared on his face; how strange it was that him simply telling her that he would eat an apple on his way to school, and have lunch with her tomorrow, made her so happy.

He shook his head, his mom, of all the people in the world, deserved to be happy. Especially after everything she had gone through.

After another moment, Ciel came rushing back with a bright red apple in her hand, which she quickly placed into her son’s.

“ There, now you need to hurry to school, or you’ll be late!” She quickly told him as she turned him around towards their apartment door.

“ Good luck, make lots of friends, and most importantly,” She placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “ Be safe. Okay?”

Yuno nodded before he opened the apartment door, stepped out into the hall, and closed the door behind him before heading towards the elevators to exit the apartment complex.

———

At Four Clover Academy

“ Good morning class,” Lily Aquaria, the homeroom teacher for class 12-1, began as she walked to the front of the class. “ Welcome back for your final year of high school! Even though the years, only just begun, I’m already so proud of all of you!”

“ Now, before we start class, I have an announcement; we have two new students joining us for our final year,” She turned to her left.

Standing awkwardly beside her, was Neva. And beside her was a slightly taller boy with messy, dark hair, amber eyes, and a stoic look on his face.

“ Go on, introduce yourselves!” She encouraged the pair warmly.

Neva and the stoic boy glanced at one another, both silently asking which one would go first. When the boy’s gaze shifted away Neva’s eyes narrowed a bit before they also shifted away.

Looks like she would get to go first…

She took a small breath before speaking.

“ Hello, I’m Neva Belmonte, it’s nice to meet you all.” She said softly, but her voice was full of confidence.

The other students nodded and muttered soft ‘hellos’ back, and then all eyes turned to the boy beside her.

“ Yuno Grinberryall.” He introduced himself shortly before walking towards an empty desk in the room.

The room was quiet for a moment, that was it? That’s all he had to say? Everyone looked at Ms. Lily with slightly confused expressions.

“ Well, it’s nice to have you both in our class!” She said with a gentle smile before turning to Neva. “ You can sit wherever you like!”

With a small nod, the platinum blonde haired girl slowly walked towards the only available desk in the room; the one situated in front of Yuno.

As she sat down and began to pull her books out, she could hear whispering behind her.

“ What kind of introduction was that?” A boy with ash blonde, almost grey, hair and big green eyes whispered to Yuno.

“ A simple one?” Yuno replied, his voice sounding confused.

“ You could’ve been a little nicer and more friendly!” The other boy whispered back.

“ I was friendly.”

“ It may’ve sounded friendly to you, but it didn’t to everyone else!”

“ Asta, Yuno,” Ms. Lily suddenly called as she turned away from the chalkboard to face the boys. “ Do you both have something to share?”

The boy named Asta quickly shook his head.

“ No ma’am, we’re sorry for disturbing class!” He loudly shouted, causing many in the room to wince.

“ It’s alright, Asta,” Ms. Lily said as she held her hand up. “ I’ll let it go, but just for today.”

“ Yes ma’am, thank you! It won’t happen again!” He shouted again, making even more people wince.

The room quieted down, and Ms. Lily began her lesson.

————

The rest of the school day went by in a blur. Class after class seemed to whirl by uneventfully, except for Home Economics, that class proved to be the most interesting one of the day.

It started off well enough, but then all of a sudden, the fire alarm began to go off. When Neva turned she saw the boy from earlier, Asta, and a girl with silver hair tied into pigtails, standing in front of a flaming cake…or what was supposed to be a cake anyway.

Mr. Orsi, their Home Ec teacher, was not pleased by it and began to scold the pair. But Asta, being Asta, began to argue back; and so, a bickering match between the two ensued.

As they went back and forth, Neva’s gaze began to wander around the room.

Most of everyone’s attention was on Mr. Orsi and Asta, but not everyones. Yuno’s attention was on the cake that he had just pulled out of the oven, his amber colored eyes focused on his station instead of on the antics unfolding before him. Meanwhile, the girls that were surrounding him also had their eyes focused on something…but it wasn’t their cakes.

Their eyes were focused on Yuno.

Neva’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she watched the girls giggle and whisper as their eyes looked him up and down as though he were some prize to be had…

Or perhaps, more like a piece of meat.

“ Isn’t the new guy so handsome?” One of the girls whispered, not even bothering to keep her voice low.

“ He is! He looks just like a prince in a fairy tale!” Another girl agreed, also not even trying to keep her voice down.

“ A prince huh? …He doesn’t look like a prince to me,” Neva thought as her amethyst colored eyes looked Yuno up and down. “ Sure he’s a pretty boy, but that’s…really all that’s princely about him…”

He wasn’t warm or charming, approachable or chivalrous; he was actually quiet, distant, aloof, and kind of cold…

In a way, he reminded her of herself, except not as warm.

Suddenly, Yuno’s gaze darted towards her, and his brows furrowed slightly; causing Neva to gasp in surprise and quickly shift her gaze back to her own cake.

She hadn’t meant to stare.

Eventually, the final bell of the day rung out, signaling the end of class, and everyone began to leave and disperse…Yuno being the first one out.

Yuno quickly rushed past everyone, trying to get to the school doors as fast as possible.

As he walked out of the building and began to walk across the grounds, he could feel the other students' eyes on him, hear their whispers and hushed voices, and it made him anxious.

More anxious than he already was.

As he got further and further away from the school, further away from the stares and voices, the more he began to realize just how hard it was to breathe.

When he felt he was far enough away he stopped beside a nearby tree and immediately took off his blazer and threw it down onto the ground. He leaned against the tree with one hand and immediately loosened his tie with the other, before his trembling fingers began to undo the buttons underneath.

After undoing the top few buttons on his shirt he began to take deep, calming breaths. In for ten seconds, and out for ten seconds, he repeated this cycle over and over again…trying to get his heartbeat and shaky breaths under control…

Why…why was it so hard to just breathe?

“ Are…you okay?”

Yuno froze as the soft, feminine voice full of confusion floated towards him.

“ This can’t be happening..” He thought in horror as he slowly straightened himself up. “ I’ve been able to keep it hidden all day…so why did someone have to show up now?!”

After taking another deep breath he slowly turned around and his eyes widened in surprise at the person standing behind him:

It was the new girl…Neva.

Her face was calm, but he could see, even from a distance, that she was confused and maybe a little concerned by what she had just witnessed.

“ I’m fine.” He replied calmly.

Clearly, both could tell that he was far from okay.

As Neva opened her mouth to call him out on his lie, a second voice suddenly called out.

“ Hey Yuno, are you ready to go?” Asta shouted cheerfully as he ran up to his friend.

Yuno and Neva both turned to face him, before their gazes shifted back towards each other for a moment.

“ Yeah, let’s go.”

Neva watched as Yuno and Asta began to walk away, and she tilted her head curiously.

Maybe there was more to this ‘pretty boy prince’ than she first thought…

————

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[shions-new-blog-of-stuff]

The Christmas Episode

[Chapter 1: "No Place Like Home"]

It's the holiday season and I do love me some holiday tropes! Happy Holidays y'all! (Don't celebrate? It's okay! You have a good, healthy and safe month! Shion loves you <3) General Audiences, Cute Fluff for Everyone Featuring: Leon and OC Catherine @squashfics @mishwanders @likesugarandcyanide @the-resident-vampire

@notrattus The taxi slowed to a stop in front of a two-story beige house with a black roof almost completely covered with snow. The stone walkway had been cleared, and the windows and front door were decorated with a wreath with silver bells and a string of red and green lights.

Leon stepped out of the backseat of the taxi, fully dressed in winter gear. The driver opened the trunk, in which Leon had stored his suitcases and duffel bag. He cast a glance at the house before walking over to the driver's side.

"Thanks, buddy," Leon said. "How much?"

"$13.50," the taxi driver replied.

Leon handed over a twenty-dollar bill and waved. "Keep the change."

"'Ey, thanks man. Happy Holidays."

"Yeah, you too."

The driver nodded and drove off once Leon walked onto the sidewalk. Leon picked up his things and made his way up the walkway to the front door. The streets and driveways had been cleared and plowed, but everything else was covered in fresh white snow. A real "winter wonderland", it was.

Stopping in front of the door, he took a piece of paper out of his pocket, looking at the address written, and then to the mailbox to the right of the door.

The name "STANLEY" was front and center on the mailbox in gold lettering. Leon rang the doorbell underneath it.

*DING-DONG*

Five minutes passed as Leon heard footsteps, followed by the clicks of locks being undone.

The door opened to reveal Catherine, hair tied back in a braid with a green ribbon, wearing a pale green apron and long-sleeved white shirt with black buttons, simple white cotton trousers and brown loafers. Oven mitts were stuffed in the apron's pocket.

Her eyes seemed to light up seeing Leon at her doorstep. "Leon! Hello!"

"Hey there," Leon replied with a smirk. "Told you I wouldn't miss this."

Catherine waved her hands, motioning for him to come inside. "I'm glad. Come in, come in, let's get you out of this cold."

The aroma of something wonderful cooking immediately entered Leon's nose. His gaze wandered around the living room--this was the first time he's visited Catherine's house. The white walls were packed with framed pictures and knickknacks. The largest picture being that an elderly man wearing a suit. A large grey couch was set against the left side of the room, with a TV on a wooden stand directly opposite from it. The floor was wooden, with a large colorful rug taking up most of the space. Behind the TV were the stairs to the second floor.

"Here," Catherine said, taking Leon's hat and coat, hanging them on the rack to the left of the door. "Making fresh coffee, dinner will be ready soon. I can make hot cocoa if you want."

Leon shook his head. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Think I drank six cups of coffee today."

"Have a seat, take a breather." Catherine smiled and darted off into the kitchen to check the stove.

Leon relaxed against the couch, thinking to himself. A small picture inside a plastic frame on the table next to the couch caught his eye. Curiousity getting him, he reached over to pick it up, examining it.

It was slightly faded, but displayed a younger girl, definitely Catherine, wearing overalls and holding balloons standing next to the old man in the other picture, both of them smiling from ear to ear.

Turning it over to see the back, the writing, in blue ink read:

Harold's Happyland! June 27, 1996 Grandpa Marion & Cathy

Catherine called out to Leon from the kitchen. "French Onion Soup's on the menu tonight! Be ready in a few minutes!"

Leon smiled, placing the picture back on the table.

He already felt like he was home.

[thevlassicpickleenjoyer]

Architecture and it's many spaces around me

Architecture, part urban-planning and part art, my living room of my house will be the first space I will use as an example of how architecture shapes my daily quality of life. My living room in my house is very wide and spacious, and beige, with the front door facing into the living room and center TV. Around the corner hides the dining room table, and beyond that the kitchen and bar. The kitchen has an open design with the kitchen sink “window” being an open table top that peaks into the pathway between the living room and bar. This open design of the kitchen allows the family and visitors of the house to stay connected visibly and audibly which makes the living area seem open. The function of this living area is to welcome guests and to make everyone in the room feel comfortable and welcomed. My living room does this well. The farthest side of my living room is a sliding-glass door that floods light and ambience into the room, this is just another addition on top of the very open design that makes the living room feel spacious and warns off claustrophobia. This sliding-glass door and front facing windows flood light into the room making it well-lit during the day. The design makes this house open but not up-to-date, I feel the beige wall coloring and brown floor tiles make the house(living room) seem dated, out of touch even. Does my living room seem unique? I don't believe so it may be open, spacious, and even well lit, but it is certainly modest and does not raise many architect’s eye-brows. The next space I will discuss is my culinary class classroom. I visit regularly in my high school. I enjoy this space due to its clever design for when students such as myself cook. The design is not open or as sunny as my living room with the ceiling being short and the lack of windows, but this kitchen is much longer and slender than the shape and design of my living room. While this kitchen/classroom has lots of space and countertops for food preparation, the only seating are tall, green, swivel school chairs that you can't quite sit down in like a comfy leather couch. While my living room has a 85 inch TV as the centerpiece, the centerpiece of the classroom is a touchscreen monitor for teaching lessons. The function of this classroom space is to teach students lessons using the monitor but to also clean, prepare, cook, and store foodstuffs and food prepping equipment. I prefer my living room space way over my culinary classroom due to how comfy my furniture is on top of having 4 french bulldogs running around. 

[aumurtoseniorlivingfacilities]

Crystal Suite Aumorto

Housed in the HOPE building, the Crystal Suite has its own private entrance and offers a sense of privacy to its residents.

The bedroom and living room are completely separate and have a small foyer between them, that leads to the main door. The living room is a large space, ideal for socializing and recreational activities. It is spacious and sophisticated in both design and decor. A huge window leads off both upper storey suites on to big balconies from which one can enjoy wonderful views overlooking the beautifully landscaped gardens and water features. The bedroom with its king size bed, bedsides and bookshelves and living room replete with all modern amenities and furniture such as a 32-inch TV, sofa and coffee table, TV cabinet, writing desk and chair and sideboard. Leading off the bedroom is a separate dressing area housing a large wardrobe and chests of drawers. The walls are adorned with sketches of Kolkata and together with contemporary light fittings and the colour palette of cream, ivory and beige speak to a feeling of sophistication and exclusivity. The pantry is well-equipped with a microwave, coffee/tea making facilities and a refridgerator. The washroom has a separate shower enclosure. The defining features of the Crystal suite has to be its space, privacy, balcony (upper storey) and views over the landscaped gardens.

This is a large suite with a decorated entrance area, it has its own patch of green and a wide balcony/ deck. With a classy living area with a television, leading into a spacious room, It gets glorious dappled sunlight in the morning streaming in through the large French windows that lead out to its deck.With exquisitely designed wardrobes and furniture/upholstery and finer touches of decor, it does have the ambiance and energy for a blissful indoor life.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

My Silver Screen, My Misery, My Love, My Defeat

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something with Billie Dean for so long but didn’t know where to start. This lady intimidates me. I don’t know what this fic is worth, and I’m so nervous about posting it - I know it’s not particularly nice, but it’s the most personal fic I ever wrote so please be kind. 

Title is from “Pacific Coast Highway In The Movies” by AWOLNATION. This song haunts me. x

Word count: ~ 3 000

“Dear me when will my life begin?” you sighed dramatically as you gathered your things.

“Bitch, I never want to see you again,” your boss growled, pointing an angry finger at you.

“Goodbye, asshole!” you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

You had never cared about that job. You didn’t seem to be able to care about anything at all. You were so bored.

Real life lacked passion and colours. You were constantly hungry for a sense of wonderment. No emotion was worth feeling if it wasn’t extreme. You wanted to know how it felt to love so deeply you would faint in the dining room like the heroines of old, drive your car off a cliff, smash the heads of your lover’s suitors. When had the world and love become so boring?

You had come to believe you would never be able to fall in love with anyone. Fiction had ruined your life. You wanted beauty, you wanted glamour, you wanted passion and murder, tears shed under the stars, diamonds on the bed. You wanted a lover who would come down the stairs in a white silk gown with lace as the music and the lighting made love to her. Cherry pink lips and wavy hair, glitter in her eyes. How could anyone settle for less?

You walked into the bright sunlight and let the flow of pedestrians sweep you away.

**

You scanned the press room and sighed. Bored, you were so bored. Luckily the couches were comfortable, and the tea was good.

You worked for the local newspaper – nothing serious, nothing you were passionate about, but you had been struggling to make ends meet. You and another journalist were covering an annual festival celebrating “everything mystical and magical!” Bollocks, as far as you were concerned. But you loved festivals, you always had. There was something almost surreal about them, how time seemed to slow down, and space to narrow. A bubble would form, a dome, a world only a few were let in. Real life would stop for a while, and you loved that, because real life was boring.

The press secretary – Leo? Theo? who cared; he was uninteresting and badly dressed – waved at you from across the room. “She’s here,” he mouthed, meaning the medium you were to interview. You gave him a thumbs-up and sighed as soon as he turned his back to you. Notebook, pen, Dictaphone. Cup of tea - empty. Another sigh. You signaled to the old lady behind the counter at the far end of the room for another cup. She pretended not to see you.  

“Asshole,” you muttered between gritted teeth. Someone on the couch next to yours – Steve? Pete? he had introduced himself the day before, he worked for a national TV channel, you couldn’t remember which one – laughed loudly at something someone else had said.

Your attention was suddenly drawn to the door. The press secretary was ushering a group of people in: a young man wearing jeans, a girl clutching files to her chest, a woman who walked in as if she owned the place, high-heels clicking, smile flashing.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Pete (Steve?) point at her. “Man, that’s Billie Dean Howard,” he said in a breath.

“Who?” asked his companion.

“Oi, Miss Howard!” someone called ��� a photographer, jumping to his feet with his camera in his hands.

She glanced at him, offered him a polite smile; tilted her head on one side as she took a pose.

You gazed at her.

“Make sure the lighting is good,” she told the photographer.

The young man in jeans was buzzing around her, almost shoving a notebook into her face, muttering something about a timetable and how they were running out of time. She leaned away from him, holding out a perfectly manicured hand – pale pink acrylics, thin silver rings – to bat the notebook away. You saw her mouth twist in an annoyed kind of way, and then the press secretary nodded at you, and she turned, and her eyes met yours.

Her brow pushed up as a smug smile crept up her lips – plump, glittery beige lipstick. “Are you here for me, babydoll?” she called.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was finally. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

Oh thank all the freaking Gods, she had finally come.

**

You turned on the Dictaphone and grabbed your pen. Your hands were sweating.

“Ur,” you said. Billie Dean crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, smiling.

You had prepared for this interview, vaguely, but she had stolen all the words from you. Kidnap me, was what you wished to tell her. Ravish me. Take me away with you from this grey world and fill my mind and heart with wonderment. Make me your co-star.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” was what came out of your mouth. You could have died of embarrassment.

Fortunately for you, Billie Dean loved to talk about herself, so you didn’t have to rack your brain for interesting questions.

You told her you had waited for her your whole life. You told her you meant it. She looked genuinely surprised, but then she smiled, a smile that seemed to suggest she had already forgiven you for that mistake. You realized that, probably, your passionate childishness was very funny to her, as were all those who had succumbed to it before you.

“The scariest spirit I’ve ever met?” She leant back on the couch, eyes staring up at the ceiling, lips curling into a smile. “I don’t get scared easily,” she quipped, and her smile turned into a smirk.

“Are you planning on staying here long?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Depends if I can find a cozy bed to sleep in and a pretty girl to smooch.”

Damn her, damn her – you were about to lean in and kiss that smug smile off her lips when the press secretary – damn him, damn him – appeared out of nowhere as in an uninspired script, squeaking “Time’s up!” as if time mattered, as if time hadn’t stopped the minute you had met Billie Dean’s eyes.

The young man in jeans pressed a cup of coffee into Billie’s hands. “Cathy’s waiting for you in the VIP room,” he said nervously. He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses. “You’re done here?”

“I – “You cleared your throat. Billie Dean was standing up, rearranging her hair, ready to leave, ready to forget already –

“You’ll have us read that article before you publish it, alright?” the young man was saying.

“Oh whatever happened to the freedom of the press,” Billie retorted. Her eyes flicked to you. “Don’t mind him.”

“I have a very cozy bed,” you heard yourself say.

For a second or two, you could have heard a pin drop.

**

Billie held your face between her hands as if you were made of porcelain, the first time she kissed you. You gazed into her eyes as if you were dreaming. “Who are you?” you whispered.

She laughed indulgently. “Don’t forget to breathe, darling.”

A breath in. She smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and something else, something like… you didn’t know. There was no word for it. She smelt like Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

**

Billie Dean raised a toast to you and to the sun and said she couldn’t possibly live without either of you. You scoffed, rolled your eyes at her as if that wasn’t the kindest thing anyone had ever said to you. She noticed your reddening cheeks, and let out a chuckle.

“What? It’s a sunburn,” you lied, fighting a smile.  

The midday summer sun was beating down on the Mediterranean, a soft breeze blowing and carrying the scent of the sea. You were spending the week in Monaco, a gift from Billie for your first anniversary. You closed your eyes, breathed in happily. The waiter brought your order, a bistro salad with warm goat cheese on toast for you, a slice of salmon and French fries for Billie. She flashed a smile at him, and his eyes sparkled.

“He’s in love,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“With me?” Billie assumed an innocent expression. “Why, I could not possibly believe that.”

You scoffed again. She smiled, pinched a thick slice of lemon between her thumb and index.

“We should come here every summer,” she said in a singsong, drizzling lemon juice over the salmon. “I love it here.”

“Ghost-free?”

She laughed. “I wish. But you look so beautiful with that sunburn.”Her eyes glanced up at you mischievously; you cleared your throat. She smirked, put the slice of lemon on the side of her plate, dried her fingers with her napkin.

“You and I, lost in a foreign country,” she said.

“Luckily for you, I took French lessons in college.”

“Oh is that so?” Under the table, Billie rubbed her bare foot up and down your leg. “And how do you say ‘kiss me’ in French?”

You leaned towards her, beaming. Your gaze flicked to her lips. “Embrasse-moi.”

“Atta girl.”

She took your breath away, every day. You bent over the table, meeting her lips halfway, smiling into the kiss.

**

“I love you,” she whispered. Her eyes smiled. “Forever.”

You pressed the pad of your thumb against her brow. “Um, you can’t know that.”

“Know that I love you?”

“Know that it’ll last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

She pouted, shifted slightly on the bed. Your thumb slid on her skin. The light streaming through the windows splashed the walls of the hotel room yellow.

“Don’t be so mean at 8 in the morning,” she whined.

You rolled your eyes at her, planted a kiss on her lips. Her skin was hot and clammy. You nuzzled your nose in her neck, blew some air to tickle her. She raised one hand to fan herself – coral acrylics, no rings.

“Call room service,” she said, stretching lazily. “I want some ice cream.”

You snorted.“Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s too hot.”

You reached out for the telephone and sat up, making sure your bare breasts were exposed. “Lemon?” you asked Billie. She nodded, gaze on your chest. You made a face. “I don’t understand how you can stand the taste of lemon, it’s so sour – oh, hello. Yes, could we get some lemon ice cream, please? Ice cream, yes. Room 108. And you know what, a bottle of champagne as well. Yes.” You grinned at Billie, who, face half buried in her pillow, was laughing happily. “Thank you. Muchas gracias. Yes. Bye!”

**

“Miss Howard, please.”

“Oh babe, call me Billie.”

“A little further to the left, please Billie.”

“Who’s that with you, miss Billie?”

“Be a doll and fetch me my shawl, will you darling?”

The girl – Lucy? Lily? – nodded in awe and hurried off.

“A little further to the left, Billie.”

Someone turned on a projector. You squinted, gave Billie’s hand a squeeze.

“Miss Billie, who’s that charming young woman with you? Is she your date? Miss Billie, who’s –“

Camera flashes, everywhere. You felt Billie’s lips, feather-light, brush your ear. “Relax,” she whispered. “You look beautiful.”

All around you, you could make out dark shapes, nondescript, unimportant. Spectators of the show. Come to see her, come to see you.

“Miss Billie who’s that charming –“

“Paws off!” Billie laughed. She pulled you closer, hip bumping yours. “She’s all mine, gentlemen.”

You beamed at her, brighter than the projector. Camera flashes, everywhere. To capture the moment when Billie nipped your ear lobe and you threw back your head to laugh, one hand on her arm, in love, so in love.

**

“So what are we doing this weekend?”

You glanced up at her. “Aren’t you busy this weekend?”

Billie flashed you a smile as she sat down on the couch beside you. She laid one hand on your bare thigh, nails gently grazing. “Production’s delayed. I’m all yours.”

With a wince you removed her hand from your thigh. “I’m sweating,” you whined.

Her smile faltered, just a bit. “Aren’t you happy?”she asked. And then she relaxed and shook her head. “Oh, I’m stupid. You made other plans.”

“I’ve nothing to do at all.” You stretched and winced again. “I don’t know. I’m so bored.”

**

It happened again. And again.

You caught yourself looking at other faces in the crowd. No one held a candle to Billie Dean, you knew that. But still. You scanned the crowd.

You pretended not to notice when Billie held out a hand for you to hold.

**

The glamour was fading. The twinkle of the stars was being swallowed up by the morning light.

You had once visited a house. The wallpaper was peeling off, leaving ugly streaks of dirty grey or brown. The landlady’s nail polish was chipped.  

**

Billie’s eyes were wide and rimmed red. You had never seen her look so sad.

“Wait,” she pleaded, her fingers – pale pink acrylics, vintage ring with a red stone – closing around your wrist to hold you back. “Surely we can talk – “She tried to smile, but it looked too broken, too scared.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Billie,” you said, avoiding her gaze. You hesitated. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Her face fell. “But surely – “

“Are you here for me, babydoll?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and a tear rolled down her cheek, but you didn’t wipe it as you usually would. For this was how things always went. People left each other. Staying alive meant getting bored of the people you once loved. The credits roll. The movie ends.

You planted one last kiss on her lips as a sob pushed out of your throat. “Gosh but I loved you so much,” you cried. “I hadn’t been alive before you came. You taught me how to love and now I’ve died again and I’m lost without you. I’m forever lost without my love for you.”

You kept one of her scarves. It still smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and that something else – Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

**

Colours faded to grey. You sank back into routine. Monotonous. Soporific. Boring. So very boring.

A year ago you would have expected the world to stop turning the minute you walked out of Billie Dean’s life. It didn’t. Days followed days, a succession of yesterdays and todays and tomorrows. Life went on, mocking you.

**

The smell of salmon filled the kitchen as you dropped the thick slices onto the burning pan. You smiled as Julie – a one-night stand that somehow had become more – made an appreciative noise. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV lazily, muttering “Boring” every time she changed the channel.

“Boring,” – another channel, “Boring,” – another channel, “Bo – oh hello there! Y/N, look, I spot a milf!”

You looked up as the anchorman’s face twisted into a fawning smile. “I’ve got Muriel here on the phone, from Portland, Oregon. Muriel sounds pretty worried. She wants to know if ghosts stay forever as ghosts or if they ever get to find peace.”

The camera cut to his guest – coral acrylics, no rings. The salmon’s grease sizzled on the pan.

“Nice pair of legs,” Julie was saying. “Come on, cameraman, don’t be shy, show us more!”

You shushed her.

“… some of them have been dead for a very long time, I’m afraid,” Billie Dean answered with an affected nod of her head.

Your eyes were wide.

“And what about love?” the anchorman asked.

Billie quirked an eyebrow. “Love?”

“Do you think it’s eternal?”

**

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow!” your friend Henry moaned drunkenly. He tapped his foot on the pavement like a pouting child. “Couldn’t we buy a house on one of those hills and live here? I wanna live here. I don’t wanna live anywhere else.”

“I know,” you giggled, pulling on his arm. The night was full of lights. You hadn’t expected less from Los Angeles. You hadn’t quite been able to find the angels in the sky, though. You kept an eye out for them.

“The world isn’t fair because we’re poor.”Henry walked up to the nearest streetlight and hugged it. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving.”

You giggled again, stretching your arms as if you were about to break into dance. The air was warm. For the past few days your heart hadn’t been quite so sad.

A car honked nearby, making you jump, and just as you were about to curse a woman shot out of the hotel on your left in a flurry of yellow and blue and nearly smashed into you – “Shit, look where you’re go – “ – brown eyes, gaze terrified, shoes in her hands, cheeks pink and – “Billie?”

She slammed back into your life like the female protagonist of a Hitchcock movie, running from danger in the moonlight with her hair disheveled and her dress billowing in the wind.

“Billie?”

You caught hold of her wrist and tried to meet her gaze. “Are you alright? What – what happened to you? Did somebody hurt you? Are you alright?” You poured questions onto her as if you couldn’t stop. Her eyes focused on you, and she ran a hand through her hair, and let out a nervous laugh.  

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was once again. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

**

“Never again,” Billie groaned into your mouth. She was holding your head firmly between her hands, devouring you, shivering, panting. “Don’t you dare leave me ever again.”

“I love you,” you moaned. You pushed her down on the bed, eyes flashing hungry and predatory as you took in the sight of her, all flushed and ready for you. “Forever.”

And as you dived in you could almost forget the taste of that one lie.

**

“What about love?” the anchorman asked. “Do you think it’s eternal?”

Billie’s smile faltered. “I’m not sure,” she answered slowly.

“Aw, poor chick got her heart broken,” Julie mocked.

“Lemon?” you asked her.

“Uh?”

“Should I put some lemon juice on the salmon?”

“I hope so,” Billie’s voice said. “I’m not sure – but I hope so.”

[cryptid-s-wips]

For the “why are you at the soup store!!” ask game: beer cheese soup, french onion soup, and corn chowder!

Hi Gemini! Thank you for the ask!

Beer Cheese Soup: A scene from your WIP that made you laugh

It's not necessarily the Funniest scene

French Onion Soup: Who is your favorite author(s)?

Ooh. I actually don't have any specific favorite authors. Some of the authors that come up a few times on my bookshelf however are Alan Bradley, Lauren Oliver, and Andy Weir.

Corn Chowder: Were any characters created/erased from the WIP?

In my three WIPs, I've definitely had to kill and create a few characters. I had to get rid of a couple from WTRL because the cast was too big. I actually added a couple of characters to H2H (Rowan and Remiel, although Rowan was a replacement for another character).

Beer Cheese Soup: A scene from your WIP that made you laugh

It's not necessarily the Funniest scene, but it's a scene that made me laugh to come up with and think about. Essentially, the gang from H2H goes to hell (for undisclosed but important reasons) and they make a pit stop at Seraph's apartment, where, surprise surprise, everyone starts making fun of them.

An excerpt from the scene under the cut:

   “This is it,” They sigh, stepping aside to pull the gate open and put out a hand gesturing for us to get ourselves inside. 

    “Don’t mind if I do.” I smile, playfully knocking into Seraph as I walk in, followed by Thalia, Rowan, and Remiel. Seraph locks the gate behind them and makes their way to the front of the group, leading us up a stairwell, lit by flicker fluorescents and covered in the ugliest beige carpet straight out of the 80s. They stop at the end of the hallway, unlock the door and turn back.

    “I hope you know that we can’t dawdle in here for long,” they said, “this is purely to make you all shut up about my apartment.”

    “Oh come on,” Thalia says, nudging them with her shoulder, “open it up already.”

    With a sigh, Seraph pulls the door open, giving us a good look at the apartment. It’s small, opening up into a living room with a simple black couch and old-fashioned CRT television set, but with a small remote by the side. The far wall opens up into a kitchen with a small dining area, and a hallway to the kitchen’s right leads to a couple of doors that I presume to be the bed and bath. 

    “Wipe your feet as you walk in.” Seraph sighs again as they hang their coat on a rack on the wall near the door. “or, better yet, take off your shoes.”

    I look up at them, already in the process of taking off my boots. They raise their eyebrows at me and I can swear that underneath it all I can make out the hint of a smile.

    “Impressive,” they say, “I expected worse from you.”

    I scoff. “I was raised in a Chinese household, was I not?”

    By the time I’ve unlaced everything and taken them off, Rowan’s already sitting on the couch, excitedly playing with the TV, flipping through the channels. Thalia accompanies them, sitting cross-legged on the floor and leaning against the couch as she stares at the strange lettering in the splash text of a news report, with one hand resting on her chin in concentration. Seraph looks like they’re about to start pulling out their own hair.

    “Rowan,” they call as they rush over, “I-- what the hell?”

    Rowan turns around, putting one arm over the back of the couch, and grins. “Oh come on. Do you expect me to not be curious about what’s on channel 666?”

    “No, but I expected you to be more polite.” Seraph snatches the remote out of their hand and shuts the television off. Thalia shakes her head as she stands up.

    “You’ve really got to show me some of this stuff you have down here,” she says, “I mean, I never imagined that demon culture would be so…”

    “Normal?” I suggest. 

Thalia smiles at me and I can feel blood rush to my cheeks. “Yeah. Normal.”

Seraph makes their way into the sparsely furnished kitchen and grabs a bottle of black liquid out of the fridge. A red label wraps around it, written in a strange language. They turn to us. “I would offer you some, but I don’t believe humans would be able to handle it.”

Thalia scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Be my guest.” Seraph waves their hand in resignation as they turn around and close the fridge door, walking into the hallway and rummaging around in a closet. After a few moments, they emerge with an old-looking camera and some sort of black device, covered in gears, and with a circular hole in the top and another, wider but flatter rectangular hole on the side. At the very top is a large flat square that’s a different color than the rest, glowing slightly red, rather than black. Lights blink across it, and Seraph hits their hand against its side a couple of times. They sigh, grab me by the shoulders, and position me against a wall.

    “I suppose you’re going first,” they say as they pick up the camera and point it at me, “hold still.”

    With a flash of light, they pull the camera down and open it up to pick out the film inside, still all rolled up, and place it in the circular hole in the box. Without a word, they grab my hand and place it on the flat glowing part. Something looks like it scans it, and with a cacophony of whirring and beeping, it finally spits out a small plastic bit about the size of a debit card. I catch it, albeit not too gracefully, and turn it over in my hands. It looks like a government-issued ID, with a picture of my face in the corner--not my real face, of course, but this funky little demon thing I’ve got going on--and a collection of what I assume to be information about me, all written in that demonic language. I show it to Thalia and mouth a few words of astonishment and she stares back at me, eyes wide as well.

    Seraph just turns around as if this is the most normal thing in the world and looks at the rest of the group. “Alright, who’s next?”

The three others just stand there in shock, mouths agape just as wide as mine, until Thalia speaks up.

“Uh, why the hell do you have a fake ID maker in your closet?”

[rubickk7]

First Line Fic Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I’m a whore for fic memes, so here I go. I have 15 stories, so here they all are. Thank you for the tag, @lizardkingeliot!

The Only Exception (with the floppy hair)

“You need us to go where, now?” Eliot leans back in his chair, clasping his hands in his lap as he quirks an eyebrow at Margo. She’s been feisty since they started the high council meeting, more so than usual, and he’s not sure why.

“The Fillorian Fucking Festival.” She tosses down a paper in the middle of the table with a sigh, and Quentin reaches over to slide it his way.

Eliot glances at it before focusing back on Margo. “Why are you so unhappy about this festival?” he asks. Profanity flows out of Margo like breathing on her best day, but the downward tilt to her mouth tells Eliot there’s more going on here than just her colorful vocabulary. “Oh, is it one of those things where they require a representative from the court so we can approve their goat or cow sacrifice? Well, not it; I did the last one and you know the ruckus it caused when I snuck that goat away to sweet freedom.”

Surprise Dick Energy

Kady leaned heavily into Alice’s side, whispering into her ear. “He does realize that if he fucks this up, he’ll loose like, 25% of his liquor supply?”

“I won’t be fucking this up,” Eliot responded to her, his tongue peeking out between his lips, his fingers moving. A dozen or so liquor bottles, filled to various levels, hovered in front of the group, circulating in a lazy pattern a few feet above the table. The entire group appeared to be holding their breath as the bottles slowly descended and gently clinked back on the surface. There’s silence for a moment, and the group burst into applause.

Professor Coldwater: Social Maladjustment 101

“Quentin, please sit down.”

“I'm not going to fucking sit down, Henry. You have to let me go back, I need to see him.”

“No. You seeing him is what got you into this… mess in the first place.”

Quentin snorts, running his hands through his hair. He can feel Penny and Pearl’s eyes on him, and he glances at Penny. His eyes are tight, worried, his mouth set in a thin line. Pearl’s face is much the same, although she’s alternating between looking at Quentin and flat out glaring at Penny. With the way her arms are crossed and how she’s leaning away from him, it looks like Quentin’s relationship—and probably his career—aren’t the only things in tatters.

Relationship . What the fuck has he done.

No Job is Too Big

Quentin checks the text on his phone, making sure he’s at the right place. He’s already running late; hopefully the client won’t be too irritated.

“35, Margo Hanson,” he mutters under his breath, walking down the hall until he arrives at the blue door. It’s painted TARDIS blue, different from the other doors in the hall that are all a boring beige, which brings an immediate smile to his face. He shoves his phone in his pocket, adjusts his messenger bag over his shoulder, and knocks on the door.

He’s standing outside hardly five seconds when the door is yanked open by the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on.

you said the words, and they altered the universe

“It’s beautiful out here.” Quentin closes his eyes and smiles, letting the breeze blow over his face. When he opens them, having to blink against the brightness of the afternoon sun glinting off the water, he looks to his right and sees Eliot eyeing him in that speculative way of his, just like he had when Quentin had stumbled onto the Sea with his hair mussed and mouth agape.

“It has its moments,” Eliot agrees, taking a final drag off his cigarette before tossing it in the blue water. “Come,” he says simply, striding away, and Quentin does, because what else is he to do?

Eliot leads him down a flight of wide stone steps that lead down to a handsome Victorian boathouse, right on the Hudson. The magically-influenced weather is warm, sunlight heating his skin in one fashion, and the presence of Eliot heating it in another.

craving is just another word for need

“No, there are no... Starbucks in Fillory.” Quentin rolls his eyes, sitting down on his throne. He kicks at a stray rock, sending it skittering across the floor. They’re scattered all over; the throne room had taken quite the beating when Quentin swept in and killed anyone that stood in his way.

“If there were, I would have destroyed them,” he adds, crossing his legs. He surveys Eliot—or the thing inhabiting Eliot’s body, anyway. There is no way any Eliot in any timeline would ever let his hair get that greasy or wear… that.

“Now who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you here?” He eyes him, the Eliot-that-isn’t, up and down, frowning. “In this body? You’re not… him,” he says, his lips thinning. He has memories of the Eliot he knew, memories that once were important… back when he was weak. He doesn’t need that shit anymore. He doesn’t need anyone or anything.

Jamba Juice

“There is no way that’s what it says.” Penny picks up the parchment, holding it close to his face, like that will make the fucking words change. “I mean, I’ve seen some fucked up magic, but this…”

so tell me 'bout your sins (and shock me with their luridness)

“When are we going to the beach?” Margo sits back in her chair, crossing her arms and fixing Eliot with that one-arched-eyebrow look that can only be perfected by months of wearing an eyepatch.

Flexible Office Hours

“You’re late, Mr. Waugh.” Professor Coldwater glances up from the paperwork on his desk, frowning slightly as Eliot strides into the classroom.

“Sorry,” he says, shrugging. “Lost track of time.” That’s a total lie, Eliot knows exactly what time it is.

Quentin sighs, standing up from behind his desk. “Shut the door,” he says. “So we won’t be disturbed.”

i might write you down (so i can watch you leap up off the page)

Eliot turns the book over in his hands. It’s longer than the first one, but not as long as the third. It had taken him a month to finish The World in the Walls, and he’s halfway through this one.

This is Me Trying

He’d never actually been in the building where faculty lived, the ‘teacher dorms’ (although he’d come close once with that Practical Applications professor his first year, who’d disappeared not too long after). As he climbs the stairs that lead to the individual bedrooms on the second floor, he understands why most teachers elect to not live here. He’s pretty sure he and the person he’s walking towards are the only ones in the entire building, and the blank walls and silence in the common areas don’t reflect much personality.

if I get burned (at least we were electrified)

Julia c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y steps into the cottage, her legs wobbling slightly. Julia wears heels almost daily, but six-inch stilettos are still a challenge. How she allowed herself to be talked into wearing these, she’ll never know. “They’ll make your legs look amazing,” Margo had promised as she’d shoved the shoes into Julia’s hands.

Quentin Coldwater and the Universal Truth (That a Slytherin as hot as Eliot Waugh would never be attracted to a Hufflepuff such as himself)

Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

The thought pulsed through Quentin’s brain as he stood in the back of the Great Hall, the eyes of a few hundred students in black robes looking his way. His dreams of being sorted at Hogwarts had included a lot of celebration, happiness, and magic. But no vomit.

French Toast

Eliot reclined back in his seat at the breakfast table, his eyes focused on the TV mounted on the wall across the little tiled area he referred to as ‘the breakfast nook.’ Some old rerun of ‘What Not to Wear’ was on, and he chuckled as the hosts commented on the unwitting contestant’s mom jeans. He took another bite of bacon as his roommate, Quentin, shifted in his seat across the table.

A Fillorian Knight's Tale

Quentin and Julia gazed down at Sir Mayakovsky, who was splayed against a nearby tree trunk. The greenery and life of the nearby forest made for a stark backdrop to the sight in front of them - Sir Mayakovsky was unmoving, with no response to their pleas for him to get up and make his way back to the lists. There was also the most horrible smell upon the air.

I tag @hoko-onchi-writes @stormscoming@mixtapestar

[electrickoushi]

denki kaminari has lost his sister

a/n: happy new year! this fic was for one of my other friend’s xmas presents which is just a bit late. i hope you enjoy it!

pairing: kaminari denki x shinsou hitoshi tags: fluff, lifeguard au, they are equally whipped, pre-relationship, crush at first sight wc: 5.8k

Denki is ready for vacation. He’s ready to hit the beach, eat a ridiculous amount of hamburgers, and maybe even get a tan to show off to his friends back in Japan. He is significantly less prepared to chase after a lost sister (multiple times) and talk to a surprisingly cute lifeguard that manages to stumble upon Denki in his time of need. 

Denki’s cheap slides slapped against the ground as he and his family stepped off the airplane.

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and looked around. Large windows surrounded them, allowing sunlight to flood in. Potted plants sat on the tiled floor and lined the walls. People tripped over one another as they all eagerly ran to security to start their vacations.  

Denki’s family took their sweet time retrieving their luggage. They walked at the pace of a snail despite the boy’s wish for them to hurry up. For some reason, they decided to stand still on all of the walkways (which had the word walk in them, Denki pointed out) and gawk at all the foreign stores. 

They arrived at the tram station that would take them directly to their hotel, just to find out that they had missed it by only a few minutes. The woman working at the desk for the tram told them that it would be another twenty minutes until the next one came. Denki’s mom just thanked the woman and waved it off, not understanding that she was wasting the precious minutes of vacation Denki had calculated on the plane. 10,283 minutes of relaxing time in which he didn’t have to deal with Katsuki’s terrible behavior, Mr. Aizawa’s dull grumbling, or Ms. Midnight’s provocative... um, homework. 

Twenty minutes later (10,223 minutes left), the tram screeched to a halt, and the Kaminaris walked out to board. 

Smiling widely, Denki’s sister Yuki took his right hand as she glanced around to explore the new country they would be living in for the next week. Once they got seated, Yuki let go so she could turn and look out the window. 

“So how’s Hawaii so far?” he asked his little sister, flicking one of her pigtails. 

He was scared that the foreign land and language and people might be too overwhelming for a five-year-old, but she was clearly enjoying every moment so far. He saw her wide eyes in the reflection as she took in all the scenery. 

“Wonderful! Do you see the ocean? It’s so blue.” She pressed her finger against the window. Wonder and amazement flashed in her eyes and Denki laughed. It’s like she forgot they also lived on an island surrounded by an ocean. 

They both watched the exotic flora pass by while the driver spewed out facts about Hawaii that would entertain the tourists. They flew over his mom’s, dad’s, and sister’s heads since Denki was the only one with strong enough English to understand the fast, muffled speech of the driver. 

The tram stopped in front of their hotel, and the brother and sister stood up to follow their parents out to collect their suitcases. They rolled them up the brick pathway, careful not to bump into other guests. 

A cold burst of air conditioning greeted them when they walked into the building. Warm, earthy tones decorated the lobby, giving it an overall oriental feel, which was probably why his parents chose this hotel in the first place. Guests were drawn toward the main novelty of the lobby: the small waterfall in the middle of the room. The water cascaded over a wooden wall and emptied into a small koi pond where kids could throw in small pellets of food. 

His parents walked straight past the wall and towards the check-in desk with the assumption that their kids were trailing right behind them. Denki hurried after them (only 10,206 minutes remaining), but suddenly saw a small flash of bright blonde hair dip into the gift shop. He groaned and ran after Yuki. 

Denki found her next to the souvenir t-shirts with sayings like “Aloha” and “Welcome to Hawaii” on them. She was tugging on a hot pink one that was five times too large for her. 

“Yuki, you can’t run off like this.” He grabbed her arm that was clinging to the fabric and made her let go of it. 

She whined, sticking out her tongue at her older brother. Denki rolled his eyes at the childish behavior but was secretly thankful that she didn’t start throwing a temper tantrum. Those meltdowns could last for hours on end, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with one of those in public. 

Denki had just managed to get Yuki to leave the gift store when their parents walked up to them, glaring. 

His mother started the attack before Denki could even try to defend himself. “Denki, I thought you were more responsible than this. After we got our keycards, we turned around just to find you gone.” 

Denki wanted to scream at their ignorant, illogical thinking. He held back his sigh and tried to explain. “You don’t understand, I was coming to get her and-” 

“Stop making excuses. You also left your suitcase in the middle of the lobby. You should be glad no one stole it.” His dad thrust the handle of his suitcase towards Denki. 

I’m sorry that you can’t keep track of your own child, so your poor son had to do it for you, just to get in trouble for running off, Denki bitterly thought as he watched his parents spin around and march off. Naturally, they expected their children to follow them. 

It had been less than an hour since they landed and they were already mad at him. He rolled his eyes and huffed. What a great family trip this was going to be. 

Even Yuki must have sensed the tension since her usual, endless babbling had subsided while they walked behind their parents to the elevators. 

The elevator ride was quiet. 

The doors slid open and Denki was the first to escape the cold atmosphere. He reached their room first but had to wait for his mother with the keycard. She swiped it, the green light switching on to signal that it was unlocked. He quickly pushed the door open and entered the room. 

There were two beds, which meant he would be sharing one with his sister unless he wanted to sleep on the couch or the floor. That would also mean that she would get an entire bed to herself, and that was utterly unacceptable. 

He tucked his suitcase between the wall and the bedframe before checking out the rest of the hotel room. They had a giant TV on top of a dresser placed in front of the beds. There was a nightstand between them with a clock, lamp, and phone on top. Pictures of various plants and landscapes adorned the walls. 

Skinny French doors opened to a smaller room with a living area. There was a green couch facing another TV, and a desk situated in the corner. Denki found a small kitchenette and a door leading to the bathroom. 

He returned to the earlier room and pulled back the beige curtains to reveal a sliding glass doorwall leading to a balcony. They had a great view of the strip of beach that the hotel owned. 

His parents sat on their bed and talked in hushed whispers. 

Probably about me, Denki thought as he flopped on his bed face-down. If only he could escape for a while to give them time to cool off. 

He unzipped his suitcase to dig out his Switch when he saw his swim trunks. He looked out the doorwall again. 

“Mom, Dad, can I go to the beach?” he asked, forgetting all about his game and pulling out the hideous shorts instead. 

“I don’t know, can we trust you?” his father retorted. 

Denki bit back a tart response. “I’ll be okay. I’ll take my phone and stuff.” “I want to swim!” Yuki popped her head in out of nowhere. She seemed to have returned to her normal, hyperactive self. 

His mom clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Denki, you take your sister to the beach and your father and I can have some alone time here.” 

“But I wanted to-” 

“You wanted to what?” his dad asked, arching an eyebrow to give him The Look.

“... Talk to girls,” he sheepishly admitted. And guys too, which is what I would say if I was actually out to you two. 

“This is a family vacation. If you want to go to the beach, take your sister along with you. Besides, you speak English well, so if your sister gets lost, she’ll be fine.” 

He held back another aggravated scream. “Fine. Yuki, go get your swimsuit on.” 

Denki grabbed his pair of hideous yellow swim trunks with black lightning bolts on them. They were so outrageously horrible, which is exactly why he bought them in the first place. 

Walking into the bathroom, he quickly changed into them and applied sunscreen to his face. 

He packed a bag to take with him while his sister changed. In it were his phone, three towels (one for him, one for his sister, and one to sit on), and one of the keycards. 

“Okay, here’s her floaties, and some money for snacks.” His mom handed the objects to him. He tucked the cash into the outside pocket of his drawstring. The floaties wouldn’t fit, so he would just have to carry them. 

“Carrying transparent pink and blue floaties with flowers on them is truly the epitome of hotness,” he muttered to himself as he blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Come on, Yuki.” 

“Have a great time, you two!” his mother beamed as if she wasn’t mad at him only a few minutes earlier. 

“Will do.” he said, shutting the door behind him. 

His sister darted down the hallway and Denki couldn’t help but groan.

-

They found a shady spot underneath a palm tree that was pretty close to the beach, the optimal location. From here, Denki could watch Yuki if she wanted to go swim or play by herself. They could also build sandcastles more easily since they wouldn’t have to haul ass to get wet sand. Finding the spot wasn’t too difficult since the beach wasn’t packed either. It was the middle of a Tuesday after all. 

Denki rolled out the striped towel and set the bag on top to weigh it down. He dropped the floaties with a dejected sigh before sitting down and peeling off his shirt. Despite the warmth of the sun and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, he still felt agitated from the altercation earlier. 

He pulled Yuki into his lap, twisting one of her pigtails around his finger. Her arms were already sticky from sweat and her feet were coated with sand. More granules of sand transferred to the towel and Denki’s legs the longer she sat. 

“You’re not mad at me too, are you?”  he asked, picking her small body up to reposition her to face him. 

She shook her head, placing her small, sticky hands onto Denki’s bare shoulders. “I love you, Denki!” She kissed him on the cheek and giggled. 

He couldn’t help but smile and pull her into a hug. She may be a brat sometimes, but if anyone was on his side, it was her. “I love you too, Yuki.” 

“Can we get ice cream?” she asked while hugging him back. Her hair tickled his ear as the slight breeze swung it back and forth. 

Ice cream was a great option to battle the heat, second only to jumping into the ocean. Plus they hadn’t eaten anything since the plane ride, so he was starving. He wanted a real meal, preferably a hamburger with a large side of fries, but they wouldn’t be having dinner for a few more hours. The pool bar was open, but he had no clue what they sold or how much it was. Frankly, he wasn’t feeling up to the task of talking to people either. 

“Of course,” he replied, bringing joy to his sister’s eyes. He eyed at the crowd swarming the ice cream truck. There were so many people, all shoving to get their popsicles and ice cream sandwiches, and he didn’t want her to get hurt or lost. 

“Um…” Crap, he had no clue what to do. “Yuki, I’m going to go get us ice cream, okay? Listen, you have to promise me that you won’t leave this spot. Can you promise me that?”  

“I promise!” 

Denki nodded and set her down on the towel. She fell square on her butt, digging both her hands into the damp sand. She looks occupied enough, he decided as he dug the money out of his bag and told her goodbye. 

Halfway to the truck, he turned around to check if Yuki was still sitting on the towel. Thankfully she was, easing his fears slightly. 

He waited in line for a bit, bought two ice cream sandwiches, and made his way back to the large palm tree. The sandwiches seemed to be melting in his hand by the second, so he took up a quick jog. He watched his path, trying not to step on anyone or anything while the sand burned his feet. 

When he reached their resting place, he expected sticky fingers grabbing at the sandwich in his hand. Instead, Yuki was gone. 

He dropped the two wrapped sandwiches and frantically swiveled his head around in search of those blonde pigtails and purple swimsuit. 

He had really done it now. What if she got kidnapped? What if she got into the water and drowned? His parents would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. Of course he shouldn’t have left her there. 

“God, why am I so stupid?” He felt like crying and screaming and kicking something. This vacation just kept getting worse and worse. 

“Hey, are you okay?” a deep voice said in English. 

Denki looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun to find a purple-haired boy staring at him with concern. The boy’s lips were set in a firm line and the bags under his eyes were quite profound. He may not have been found objectively attractive by the common person, but Denki couldn’t help but find a certain kind of beauty in the orderly unkemptness of the boy. 

Now is not the time to think about that though, Denki thought, chiding himself for his behavior. 

“I mean, you just look… distressed,” the boy said when Denki didn’t reply. 

Denki was distressed. So much so, that he didn’t notice when he started cussing in Japanese, which is what brought the boy over in the first place. 

“Oh. I’m fine. I’m good besides the fact that I literally lost my sister and when I go back to the hotel, I will get decapitated by my parents after being awarded ‘Worst Brother of the Year.’” Denki slapped his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes of any stray tears. 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Do you want help looking for her?” he asked, squatting down and prying Denki’s hands off his face. 

Denki looked up and into the purple eyes of his new savior. “Yes. Please, yeah, thanks.” 

The boy stood up and offered his hand out to the blonde. Denki took it and smiled. Somehow, his hand wasn’t as sweaty as everyone else’s. It’s like his body had adjusted to the almost unbearable heat. That or he was just too pretty to sweat. He wasn’t sure. 

“What does she look like?” the purplet asked, placing his hands on his hips and cracking his back then his neck.

Denki was not staring at his back muscles nor at his crazy hair that must have been at least sort of soft. 

Cracking his knuckles, the boy looked at the blonde expectantly and waited for his response. 

“Oh, right,” Denki cleared his throat. “Well, she is five, and she is kind of short. She has blonde hair too, but it’s lighter than mine and in pigtails, and she has a purple swimsuit on, kind of like the color of your hair, and yeah.” 

“Okay. Don’t worry we will find her.” He took in the long expanse of sand and people ahead of them. His sunglasses would have been nice.

Denki rubbed the nape of his neck. He felt guilty that he was wasting someone else’s time, but he needed all the help he could get. This vacation was already a complete shitshow and a lost sister on his watch would make it an Oscar-winning shit-performance or whatever the step up from shitshow was. “My name is Denki, by the way. Uh, thanks for helping me.” 

“I’m Hitoshi, one of the lifeguards here. So it’s really no problem. It’s my job to save everyone.”

Somehow that made Denki feel a little better.  

“Okay, Denki, do you have any idea where she could be?” 

Denki shook his head. 

“Okay, let’s just ask around then?” Hitoshi suggested. 

They started their trek, Denki with his slides on and Hitoshi barefoot. The heat had made Denki’s hair start to frizz, and he tried to discreetly pat it down. He didn’t put any gel in it this morning since he thought he would be swimming, not talking to a hot guy while looking for his sister. 

They approached the nearest person, a middle-aged woman with a big, floppy hat and large sunglasses who was reading a magazine and tanning. Clad in a skimpy pink bikini, she laid on one of those beach chairs, long legs stretched out. Her giant boobs spilled out of her halter top, drawing the attention of many males around, which seemed to be one of her objectives of the day, along with tanning and reading about the top seven diets that are taking the world by storm. 

Hitoshi promptly ignored the lady’s more than concerning fashion choices and led the conversation. “Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen a little five-year-old girl anywhere? She has blonde pigtails and a purple swimsuit on.” He held his hand near his waist to illustrate her height. 

She pulled her sunglasses off with an exaggerated snap of her wrist and glanced up at the boys. “Did you lose a child? Aren’t you supposed to be a lifeguard?” She flicked the whistle hanging from Hitoshi’s neck and turned back towards her magazine. 

Denki was shocked, first by her ginormous, unshielded tits, but now by her sharp words. Hitoshi was just trying to help him search for his sister. Why was she being so rude? 

Hitoshi started to speak, but Denki stepped forward. “Look, lady. You have no right to speak to my friend this way. Have you seen my sister or not?” 

The lady narrowed her eyes at the blonde. “I have not,” she said, snapping open her magazine and turning away. “Brats.” 

Denki stomped away from the woman. Once they were out of earshot, he started grumbling. “Despite your strong milf status, you’re a complete bitch.” 

Hitoshi softly laughed at the strange yet comical remark. 

The joyful sound was unexpected as it landed on Denki’s ears. Hitoshi had a deep, almost gravelly voice (one that Denki found undeniably hot) that seemed to never fluctuate in tone or timbre. It was calm and stable, so the warm, sweet sound made Denki’s heart skip a few beats and made his mouth malfunction for a few seconds. 

“You have a nice laugh,” he blurted out. His cheeks went red with embarrassment once he realized what he said. “Er, I-” 

Hitoshi just laughed more at the blonde’s candor. “Thanks.” 

Denki decided to stop talking, stop looking at the purple-haired boy altogether before he said another stupid thing. 

The two boys walked around, going from person to person and asking if they had seen Yuki. Everyone shook their heads and returned to their activity, clearly uninterested in finding the lost child. So far the bitchy milf was the worst of the worst, but no one else was that much better.

Each time they got out of earshot, Denki had some underhanded comment that made Hitoshi laugh. 

-

As they walked around, Denki and Hitoshi made small talk, discovering different things about each other. (Denki had lost track of exactly how many minutes of vacation were left a while ago, as he was just a bit too preoccupied with something, or someone, else.) 

Hitoshi worked as a lifeguard during the summer, weekends, and school breaks along with his two friends, Eijirou and Mina. His purple hair always stuck up like crazy, even though it got wet all the time. Oh, he also loved cats and liked to go biking when he had some free time. 

Denki had come to Hawaii for a vacation with his family, but they were sort of fighting right now. The black lighting bolt in his hair was natural, even though no one really believed him. Oh, he also loved hamburgers and liked to hang out with cute guys who liked cats when he had some free time. 

Hitoshi smiled at his last comment. Sometimes he had a hard time discerning whether someone was just being very friendly or if they were trying to flirt with him. It was seven times harder when it came to boys. But by now, he was ninety-nine percent sure Denki was flirting with him. He just called him cute for goodness sake.

They walked around for a few more minutes with no luck. Hitoshi was frustrated at the lack of care from the guests while Denki was about to go berserk. It had been twenty minutes and still no luck. How were they ever going to find her? 

Hitoshi was very worried about the blonde. He could sense the spiraling about to occur, but his break was ending right now. 

“Hey, Eijirou!” He shouted, waving both arms above his head to get the attention of the other lifeguard. The red-haired boy turned around and squinted at the pair. Was Hitoshi actually talking to another human? 

Hitoshi grabbed the blonde’s hand and ran towards the tower. Denki started thinking about how nicely the lifeguard’s hand fit in his. 

“Hitoshi, what’s up bro? Who’s this?” He climbed down from the tower and stuck his hands on his hips, looking back and forth between the two boys. His eyes followed their arms that met in a handhold, and Eijirou couldn’t help but smirk. Listening to Hitoshi while very obviously staring at their interlocked hands, he shook his leg to get the sand off before slipping his foot into a red croc. 

“This is Denki, and we are looking for his sister. So can you just cover my post for a little bit more?” 

They were not getting the hint. He watched Hitoshi very slowly slip his thumb out to stroke the side of Denki’s hand. Eijirou watched the blonde’s breath hitch as he stared straight ahead, trying not to pass away. 

The redhead just gave them a cheeky grin. “Yeah, no problem! What does she look like?” 

“Well, she’s five and has blonde pigtails and a purple swimsuit,” Denki described, motioning with his free hand. 

Eijirou considered the description, squinting, until something finally clicked. “Oh, you mean her?” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of his lifeguard tower.

The three watched as Yuki popped out behind the white wood of his lifeguard chair. Eijirou smiled, Hitoshi gasped, and Denki felt his soul ascend. He would live to see another day. 

He tore away from Hitoshi and ran over to his sister, kneeling down so they were eye level. “Yuki, why did you leave when you promised me you wouldn’t?” 

She shrugged, playing with her skirt and wiggling around. The sand must have been terribly interesting because she refused to make eye contact with her brother. Maybe she was finally feeling guilty about all the trouble she’s caused today. Denki pouted in return and furrowed his eyebrows.

Watching the blonde’s cute expression, Hitoshi could swear he fell in love just a little more. 

Yuki dashed away, kicking up sand and dodging Denki’s arms. “Not again,” he whined, bowing his head in defeat before standing up to go chase after his sister. 

She ran right past Hitoshi who scooped her up before she could escape. 

“You should have listened to your big brother, Yuki. He’s been spending all this time looking for you,” Hitoshi said in perfect Japanese. He was still standing next to Eijirou, far enough away that Denki couldn't hear him. 

She frowned and flashed him big puppy dog eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he said, glancing over at Denki. He set her down and she ran back to him, hugging his leg. “Sorry, Denki.” 

He sighed and sat down on his butt. “It’s okay, just please don’t run away again.” 

Yuki giggled and crawled into his arms, burying her face in his neck and blowing a raspberry. 

“Yuki…” He cracked a smile and started tickling her, seeming to forget about the harrowing experience she just put him through. 

-

While the siblings made up, Eijirou left, clapping Hitoshi on the back and wishing him good luck, both with the second half of the shift and his newfound crush. 

Hitoshi climbed back up on his chair, leaning against the back of it and sighing. In the past twenty minutes, he saw a swearing Japanese boy on the verge of a breakdown, asked said boy what was wrong, helped said boy find his sister, and developed quite the crush on said boy. 

The sun beat down on Hitoshi as he watched the brother and sister duo with a smile on his face. He rested his arms on his knees, holding up his face with two curled fists. Sitting down and watching people enjoy their lives was very boring compared to the adventure he took with Denki. 

“Ooooh, who are you staring at ‘Toshi?” 

Hitoshi almost fell out of his chair, which would have been quite the sight to see. “What?” 

“You haven’t blinked for a full minute. Who are you watching?” Mina asked, surveying the ocean in search of the individual who managed to steal Hitoshi’s heart. 

“No one,” Hitoshi said, blinking aggressively. His eyes did feel very dry all of a sudden. 

Very unconvincing. “Mhm…” she mused. 

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” teased Hitoshi as he dragged his eyes away from Denki and placed them on the waitress.

She stuck her tongue out at him and tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jean shorts. Hitoshi just stared at her silently. After a few seconds, Mina just scoffed and ran a hand through her pink hair. 

“You’re so boring. I’ll find out who you were staring at though, Mr. Heart Eyes, just you wait!” Mina ran towards the other tower. “Eijirou! You’ll never guess what happened to Hitoshi!” 

Hitoshi chuckled at the black girl’s behavior. His eyes wandered for a bit before finding the blonde boy again in the water. Denki was splashing around in the water with his sister, his smile so bright that it stood out against the sunlit ocean. 

A flash of red dove into the water, momentarily drawing Hitoshi’s attention away. A few seconds later, Eijirou’s head popped out of the water, wet hair clinging to his face and over his white headband. He looked over in Hitoshi’s direction and gave him a thumbs up. Hitoshi gave him one back, unable to hear the complaints that came from Eijirou’s mouth. This was the third time he had to save someone in Hitoshi’s zone since he was too distracted by a certain blonde boy. 

Hitoshi did a once over of the sand and water before inevitably being drawn back to Denki and his sister. She was in a yellow inner tube and Denki spun her around in place, causing her to shriek out of joy. His hair was completely wet and fell down to his shoulders in nice waves. Hitoshi admitted that his swim trunks were objectively ugly, but he somehow pulled them off. It could have been the toned abs but Hitoshi was definitely not studying the muscles that looked extremely nice when Denki would emerge from the water. 

He started staring into space, dreaming about the boy, when he heard screaming. The blonde’s voice carried across the ocean as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Yuki, where are you?” 

Hitoshi looked at the inner tube, unsurprised to find empty air where a person should be. She was quite the handful it seemed. A few seconds passed before Hitoshi stood up and dove into the water to search for the lost girl. 

The saltwater stung his eyes slightly while he swam around to find her signature pigtails. He spotted her among the various legs of people and grabbed her arm, pushing her up to the surface of the water before him. 

Once he sprung up, he was met with an angry glare fixed on the small girl’s face who was back in her innertube with Denki in front of her. His back was to Hitoshi when Yuki started yelling at the purple-haired boy. 

“You ruined our game! You’re no fun,” she snipped. 

“Yuki, don’t talk to him like that. He was just making sure you’re safe,” Denki reprimanded in Japanese. 

Denki turned around to apologize to Hitoshi for his sister’s attitude, just to find that his brain had malfunctioned and refused to communicate with his mouth. He must have forgotten how to tread too, because he accidentally plunged down into the water, curing him of his original shock. 

Why were men so attractive? More specifically, purple-haired lifeguards who just came out of the water after saving his sister who didn’t need saving. 

Saltwater filled his mouth and burned his nose as he flailed in the water for a second before propelling himself upward. Choking and sputtering, he grabbed onto Yuki’s tube to stabilize himself while he was in the process of dying. 

Hitoshi watched on with concern. “Are you okay?” 

Denki kept coughing but nodded regardless. “Sorry, I, um, well, we were just-” 

His face was bright red, possibly from his near-death experience, possibly from the hot male in front of him. 

Hitoshi would bet it was the latter. 

He found that flustered Denki was somehow even cuter than beach boy Denki, and the strong desire to fluster him crept up further. He smirked to himself for a split second before swimming closer to Denki and tapping him on the shoulder. He shot a deadly smile at the coughing boy. “Hey, I’m Shinsou Hitoshi, lifeguard on duty right now,” he said in Japanese.

“I know, you told me before,” Denki reflexively replied in his first language, still recovering from the past five minutes of his life. His eyes widened. “You just spoke perfect Japanese?” 

“I did. I was born in Japan and moved here just a few years ago.” Hitoshi looked smug at the fact that he succeeded in rattling the blonde. 

Denki stared at him, trying to remember if he said anything stupid in Japanese while in the presence of the lifeguard. He didn’t think so, but he could never be sure. His coughing fit had finally stopped, and they stared at each other in silence. 

“Your English is really good, Denki,” Hitoshi said, watching a small blush spread on Denki’s cheeks again. 

“Thanks.” 

Did he always have freckles? Hitoshi wondered as he swam closer. 

The romantic moment abruptly ended when Yuki splashed water in both of their faces. 

Hitoshi shook his head to get rid of as much water as possible while Denki just growled at his sister, restraining his desire to splash her back twice as hard. The purple-haired boy noticed this and tugged on the other’s arm. Denki paused his murderous rage to look at Hitoshi. 

“Why don’t I show you around after my shift? Are you in the hotel up there?” Hitoshi asked as he pointed at the large building that loomed over the beach. 

“Yeah, yes I am. Um, sure, what time is that?” Denki stuttered out, cringing at his voice. Now was not the time to be majorly awkward, he scolded himself. He glanced back to see if Yuki was listening. Thankfully, she wasn’t or she just didn’t care. That would be quite a long conversation with his parents, one he definitely preferred not to have soon. 

Hitoshi cracked a smile at the way Denki stumbled over his words. “Around six. I can take you out to dinner at the beach restaurant.” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll meet you here again, yeah?” 

“Sure.”

Denki turned towards his sister who was entertaining herself by spinning in tiny circles. He could never be too careful when it came to boys. “If Mom and Dad ask where I go tonight, you just tell them that I made a new friend, okay?”

“Okay. Can we go back to swimming now?” she asked, looking up to find the pair laughing at her uninterested tone. 

Denki nodded through giggles while Hitoshi waved goodbye to Yuki. She’d warm up to him later if he had anything to say about it. 

Hitoshi swam to shore and walked back to his lifeguard chair. Sand stuck to his wet feet and legs. He tried brushing it off as best he could, but the curse of sand clung to his body like, well, wet sand. He dried his hair and torso off before settling back into his chair. 

Once again, his eyes found Denki whose head was sticking just above the water. He managed to position his sister so that she was sitting on his shoulders. Once she was properly situated, he stood up, boosting her into the warm air. Squeals and shouts came from her mouth as she grabbed onto his hair while Denki spun around. 

He stopped spinning, facing Hitoshi and making eye contact with him across the ocean. Denki grinned and offered a flirty wink before thrusting himself backward and falling into the water with a large splash. They surfaced a few seconds later, laughing and chasing each other around. 

Hitoshi smiled at the boy’s antics and tried to calm his racing heart. 

Someone knocked on his chair leg, pulling Hitoshi out of his thoughts about his future date. It was Eijirou who had come over to notify Hitoshi that he was taking his break now. Hitoshi nodded and watched the other lifeguard walk towards the bar to go talk to Mina. 

“Hey, Eijirou?” Arching his eyebrow in curiosity, the red-haired boy turned around and motioned for his friend to continue. “Do you think I can get off early tonight?” 

“Got a date with a cute blonde?” Eijirou teased. 

“Yeah, something like that,” the lifeguard replied with an uncharacteristically large smile on his face. 

Eijirou had never seen anything like it before.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Seventeen - Warming Up

Back in Loveland, I found I didn’t have the time to breathe yet again. The week went by in a flash, as I busied myself again with work and my thesis. It was mid-December already, and I could feel the clock ticking loudly in my head, reminding me I had not much more than a month to finish the written essay before I could send it to my teachers. Victor was still abroad and extremely busy, texting once a day to check up on me, and taking an extremely long time to reply to any of my texts. He had called one evening, a heavy fatigue in his voice, and a tint of loneliness I couldn’t help but notice. He seemed to be in a better mood after we spoke, but even so I wondered how lonely he really was, and if, besides me, he had anyone to talk to at all.

And I missed him. I had missed him before, but now that I allowed myself to really feel it, it was unbearable.

I decided to uplift my spirits with good food and music. I came home loaded with vegetables and fruit, hoping a good soup and French toast would fill the hole in my heart. Pleased with my soup already cooking on the stove, I started my French toast. In no time my eating kitchen was filled with wonderful aromas, as well as the sound of the bread sizzling on my frying pan and Queen blaring out of my phone.

The music was replaced by my ringtone. It was Victor.

“Hey there. Just give me a minute.” I answered, before I connected my earphones to the phone. “Sorry, done.”

“If you’re busy I can call back later.”

“No, no. Just plugging my earphones. I’m cooking dinner, need both my hands. What’s up?” I said, putting my phone in my pocket to attend to the stove.

“Nothing much, just work. What are you cooking?” Victor seemed to be in a good mood.

“Comfort food. Green bean soup and French toast. I’d invite you over for dinner, but you’re probably too far away.”

“It depends on how good of a cook you are.” He teased.

“Well, I wasn’t trained by a professional chef like some people.” I teased back. “But I manage.”

 “We’ll see about that when I actually try your cooking. I will take a raincheck on that offer. Don’t think I won’t cash it.”

“I’ll be prepared.” I smiled. “Do you know when you’re coming back?”

“That’s why I'm calling you. Are you still available tomorrow?”

“I am.” My heart jumped with joy. “Are you in Loveland?”

“Still in London. I leave today.”

“Won’t you be too tired to meet, after such a long flight?” I worried. “We can reschedule for Sunday, if you want to.”

“If that were the case, I wouldn’t be scheduling a date with you for tomorrow.” His voice sounded cold all of a sudden.

“You’re right, you know better.” I shrunk. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get some sleep, don’t worry.” Victor’s voice softened. “It’s fine, I’m used to this already.”

I remained silent, punching myself internally. I knew how guarded Victor could be, I shouldn’t just jump in and act like a nosy girlfriend. This was a very recent thing. I was getting ahead of myself.

“I’ll come pick you tomorrow at seven pm.” Victor spoke again. “We’ll have dinner and spend some quiet time together. What do you think?”

“Sounds wonderful. I’ll see you then. I hope you have a safe flight.”

“Thank you. I…” Victor paused. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

 Punctual as only he could be, Victor rang my doorbell at 7 o’clock sharp. I asked him to come up, since I couldn’t find my keys. I noticed his clothes were much more relaxed than usual. He was wearing a blue knit sweater with beige trousers and a brown jacket. He was holding a large paper bag.

“A keyholder would solve all your problems.” He joked.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” I said as I looked around my living room. “Here, got them!” I said, picking them up and twirling them in my hand. “We can go now.”

“Wait. I might as well just give you this. Just a small thing, nothing much.” He said, handing me the bag.

I opened the bag and felt my eyes widen in delight. Inside I could find butterscotch cookies, several packs of tea, a tin of Harrods coffee and a magnet of a British phonebooth.

“Wow, this is too much, Victor.” I said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with so many gifts.

“It’s nothing, really. Just treats to motivate while you work on your thesis and the magnet because I noticed you collect them.” He pointed at my fridge, full of small magnets stuck to its door. “And I didn’t see one of those typical English phonebooths.”

“I love everything. Thanks for thinking of me.” I said, standing on my tiptoes and pecking him on the cheek. He pushed me closer, holding my back with his large hand, and kissing me softly on the lips. I felt myself blush.

“Where are we going? Is what I’m wearing appropriate?” I asked, suddenly feeling very shy about my jeans and white boat neck sweater.

“You look perfect.” Victor said, his eyes shimmering a little. “Grab a coat. It’s getting colder.”

He drove us to a fancy neighborhood, full of luxurious houses. He then turned to a fabulous private condominium, with large black iron gates, and trees with purples leaves lining the road. I was astonished with such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Victor asked.

“Is this where you live?” I asked, still dazed with the scenery.

“Yes, I own an apartment here.” He nodded. “Make sure you remember the way, in case you have to drive here.”

His hallway was probably larger than my eating kitchen and living room combined. I could only imagine how big his house was.

“Come on, I’ll give you the tour.” Victor held my hand, leading me inside.

His house was huge, of course. It was entirely decorated in shades of white, grey or black, showing a hint of gold, silver or red here and there. I counted six bedrooms, all of them with private bathrooms, three with walk-in closets, and his living room was divided by frosted glass panels in three smaller (but still huge) rooms, one with sofas and a tv, another one with a pool table and a bar, and the last one with walls lined with shelves filled with books, an antique piano and a small sofa. The dining room had a large table and a small bar as well, and was connected to the kitchen and the living room. The kitchen and his bedroom seemed to be the places he used more, with small personal objects lying here and there, even though it looked like they were placed meticulously. I watched everything closely, trying to understand him better through his environment. It was perfect, pristine, so much I felt afraid to touch anything.

Once again, I was startled by Victor.

“You are very different from your chatty self today. Is everything alright?” He said, as he watched me from the door of his (one of his) living room.

I went closer to him, touching his chest, my head bent backward so I could look at his face, due to the height difference.

“Just admiring your crib. So, what do you have planned for us today?” I said, trying to change the subject. But his expression suddenly became a slightly worried one. He leaned, watching me closely.

“You look pensive.” He said, tucking one of my curls behind my ear.

“It’s a new thing, that’s all. But I appreciate you sharing it with me. This piece of you.”

He grabbed me closer and kissed me. It wasn’t a desperate kiss as before, but it was just as intense. I melted in his arms, giving in to the feeling, a heatwave taking me over, and the only reason I didn’t fall on my knees was because Victor was holding me pretty tight.

“I find it amazing, how you just give in to me like that.” Victor said, his eyes dark, locked on mine.

“You’re the one to blame for that.” I smiled slyly, reaching for another kiss.

We were still too shy to jump to a more intimate stance, but the way we pressed our bodies clearly showed we wanted more, but were holding back. What started as a kiss gave way to more of a make-out session, both of us too entranced to just pull away like that. Slowly we lost all shame and I sneaked my hand under his sweater, wanting more of him, craving the touch of his skin. He let out a small grunt and became more alive, his hands pressing hard on my body, his kiss warm and strong and enticing, making me more and more aroused. I moaned as I felt the bulk in his pants press on my abdomen, showing me he wanted it as much as I did.

I made him sit, straddling him. I took a good look at him, the whole of him, biting my lip. Victor chuckled, even though he was taking all of me too, a small preview of what would be revealed once we took our clothes off. His hungry eyes made my insides clench a little, the lust bringing an itch I was pretty sure only Victor could scratch.

I kissed him deeply, grabbing the bottom of his sweater and pulling it up. Victor broke the kiss and helped me remove it in a swift motion. But instead of his bare chest, I found he was wearing a black t-shirt underneath. I groaned in frustration.

Victor chuckled and lifted his back from the sofa, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it upwards, removing it instantly.

“Is it better now?” He asked, smiling, while I eyed him with lustful eyes. He was drop-dead gorgeous, his chest hairless and well defined. I slightly ran my hand through it. It was incredibly soft.

“Much better.” I answered, planting small kisses on his neck, my lips trailing my way down to his chest. Victor leaned his head back, his breath slightly ragged, his beautiful grey eyes fluttering in pleasure. I could feel his penis throbbing under my butt, we both becoming hornier by the second.

Suddenly he grabbed me by the hips and sat on the edge of the seat, his hands strong and restless, his eyes dark and focused.

“My turn.” Holding the hem of my sweater between his fingers, he slid it up, removing it. He held me tight, his warm skin against mine making me tingle, his body scent leaving me in a daze.

He licked my ear lobe and came down to my shoulders, trailing his way with moist kisses, making my skin crawl in pleasure. He laid me on the sofa, supporting my back with his big hands, my legs wrapped around his waist. His eyes descended from my breasts to my stomach, appreciating the view, until they stopped on my lower abdomen, his expression changing quickly.

I felt an icy wave hit me, making me shiver. He was looking at my hysterectomy scar.

I quickly got up, and almost fell down from the sofa, if it wasn’t for Victor. My hand flew to the side and I grabbed my sweater, trying to cover myself as quickly as possible.

“I'm sorry.” He quickly said, keeping the short distance I had established, allowing me some space.

“It’s ok.” I said, my voice low as I tried to keep myself together. I took a few deep breaths.

“Talk to me.” He gently urged.

“I said I’m fine.” My voice sounding sour, not at all what I intended.

“Listen.” He said, touching my shoulder. “We don’t need to rush into things. We can take it slow.”

“It’s not that.” I quickly corrected him. “I want you. I want this. I just… I had completely forgotten it was there. You make me forget all about it, that’s one of the things I love about you. But when you looked at it… It all rushed back.” And I realized I’m broken. And I realized you deserve better. My lips quivered with emotion that I was trying hard to hold back. “It’s messy, I’m messy. I’m sorry about this.”

Without a word, he pulled me closer, grabbing my waist with both hands. He gently caressed my nose with his, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Show me.” He asked softly. I agreed with a soft nod.

His eyes on mine, he grabbed the hem of my sweater. Slowly and steadily the sweater rolled up, until my scar was revealed, its bottom tip concealed by the button of my jeans.

He leaned me back on the sofa, slowly, still watching me closely. Holding the hem of my sweater with one hand, he traced my skin with his fingers, until it stopped right on the edge of that line of healed skin. He looked down and touched it softly, looking at me again, assessing my reaction. It actually felt good. Neither his eyes nor his touch held any kind of judgment. Just tenderness. And acceptance.

“You will never need to hide from me.” Victor affirmed. “Messy or not, you’re the one that I want.”

My heart grew so much with his words I feared it wouldn’t fit in my chest. I felt like the most loved person in the world. He took me into his life without any kind of restrictions, scar or no scar, abuse or no abuse. He loved me for who I was, and that was the only thing I ever wanted.

And if my love was big before, I could barely contain it in my chest now. I could feel the strength in his stance, protecting me. And in his arms, comforting me. And in his kiss, loving me. He was intense, a fortitude, a lighthouse in the stormy night. Hell, if I was a tree, Victor was a goddamn forest.

I pulled him into another kiss, trying to convey what I was feeling and my throat was to tight to say. Trying to say I love you with my lips, but not with my voice. Victor welcomed me in his arms and in his warmth, and if I could read correctly, he was saying I love you too.