#note: if you return to this post occasionally you might notice me sometimes shuffling things around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s a half formed thought about Calum going back to school at the same time as you during the crazy ass pandemic. Enjoy.

Reader insert. No race or gender.

********************

You were always going back to school. When you ran into Calum last year--though it really wasn’t you running into Calum; he was doing his grocery shopping and you checked him out--you knew being a clerk at the grocery store wasn’t the end all be all for you.

What you had noticed over the couple of months is that whenever Calum seemed to be doing his grocery shopping, he always came through your line. It didn’t matter if you were the only line opened or on the weekends one of the several lines open, Calum was there. He started with small talk, asking you how your day was going. And you asked about his. He shocked you the first time he used your name. But you forgot that it was on your name tag. “Well if you know my name it’s only fair I know yours,” you teased.

“Calum,” he returned easily, taking the brown paper bags after you carefully packed them.

Sometimes you noticed his dog in the cart and asked about them. You learned his name is Duke and that he’s been affectionately dubbed Baby Grandpa by Calum. And eventually, though you hadn’t really meant to, you noticed things he bought frequently and whenever you happened across his path while walking to or from back break, you’d let him know if there was a sale going on.

And thought it was only just friendly chat while you were on the clock, you were out pumping gas on your way to lunch with your friends when you heard your name. As you turned, there was Calum, walking out of the gas station, waving as he pushed his sunglasses back to cover his eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you laughed, waving in return. What you hadn’t expected as Calum walked across the lot to the pumps is that he would chat until the question of a date fell off from his lips. And sure Calum was attractive, and sure the conversation over the weeks while you checked out his items had turned a little flirty but you hadn’t expected that Calum felt anything remotely serious about you to ask you on a date.

But you accepted. And there you were able to talk over a nice picnic that excluded Duke, but at your explicit disappointment at not seeing the old dog, Calum promised that next time, he would make sure to include Duke. That picnic lead to a movie, which lead to dinner, which lead to a date shopping for Duke because of the upcoming holidays, which lead to dinner at his place, and then hanging out with his friends for a quick drink one night, which lead to movie nights at each others place.

And somewhere in all of it, you were dating Calum. He called when you had the closing shift at work to make sure you got home safely. Or if you spent the night, he’d make you breakfast, and he soothed your back as you hunched in front of your laptop to paid for applications for grad school. And he listened to the way you talked about knowing you couldn’t stay in this spot forever and he encouraged you go back to school. You could feel out that school was something that Calum was considering but he hadn’t been too serious about it. Not the band, the tours, the in the studio’s late--just never felt like he had the time.

Occasionally, you talked about some of the online courses you saw the schools had. But Calum hadn’t fully budged. By the time you got news about you going back to school, with funding, and sorting that news out with your job, Calum asked you if you thought he should give a crack at school. You told him the truth, that if he wanted to go for it, he should. And soon, things crumbled globally with the pandemic. And locked in the house most of the time, you dropped subtle and not so subtle hints that making those online classes might be closer and closer to coming true.

Now you’re here, sitting at the dining room table, your printed out readings and books scattered in front of you. Calum’s on the couch. His notes on the coffee table. You’re in class, listening to the lecture headphones in and you look over to Calum, his class ended just as yours started. His fingers are working over the keys.

He’s only in a couple of classes. And though you’re in one more class than him, there’s the added struggle of the work you do too. It’s administrative, but there’s meetings once a week and you still find yourself being offloaded onto with lots of small annoying data tracking tasks. It’s paying for school, so you do it with minimal complaints, but a few nonetheless.

You’re so lost watching Calum working that you don’t even realize that the class you’re in is preparing for small breakout rooms until someone calls your name. You blink and turn back to the screen. “Sorry, zoned out. We’re discussing the reading, yeah?”

Your group nods and you manage to get back on track until the end of your class. Just as you’re closing down the Zoom app, at least for the half hour before your meeting for work, Calum calls out. “Class done?”

You nod, popping out the earbuds. “Yeah. Got that meeting for work soon though.”

He hums, glancing up from the screen. He seems tired. Most of your nights both of you are up kinda late. Though, you make sure to turn it in early and practically drag Calum to bed a couple hours later. He’ll get caught up, work way too late into the night and then have to be up early for band meetings too. “Want me to fix dinner tonight then?”

“It’s my night. I can still do it.”

“You sure. I know you’ve got to fix that spreadsheet too and do your readings for the week.”

You shake your head. “I can still cook. Might even start during our meeting.”

Calum laughs, remembering the other times you turned off your camera and shuffled around the kitchen to cook in meetings or in classes too. “Nonsense. Almost done with this paper, so I’ll cook. But as an exchange, if you don’t mind, could you read over this? It’s only a response to a reading and it’s not super long or anything. But this instructor’s a fucking hardass.”

You nod. You’ve read over his papers before. Most of the times it’s just making sure he has correct citations and you might make a note about needing a thesis statement or needing more of his analysis between his evidence. But it’s not much that you ever feel like you need to mention on his papers. You’ve found, most often, what Calum needs is just someone to listen to his ideas so he can sort them out loud and then all you do is take down the notes of what he said. Listening to him talk about this philosophy class and Literature class is awe inspiring. He always has more questions than answers, but it’s those questions that always lead him to some pretty amazing places in his writing.

“Is this the professor that got on you about the spacing on that first paper?”

Calum nods, pushing the laptop to the coffee table on top of his notes. “Yes! Even you couldn’t see what was wrong, so I still don’t understand what they got on me about. And I formatted the second outline in the exact same way and didn’t get any points taken off, so I really don’t understand.”

“Well, it could’ve been Google Docs. When you downloaded it into Pages, the formatting might’ve gotten wonky? But even the Pages document looked fine, so I really don’t know what happened there. But you’re doing it all in Pages now and then exporting to a PDF when you submit correct?”

“Yeah, I am. Thanks for that tip though. I didn’t realize Pages wouldn’t work in the submission center.” His shuffle into the kitchen is paired by the click of Duke’s paws on the floor. Calum presses a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Spaghetti?”

Holding onto his forearm draped around your chest, you nod. “Spaghetti sounds lovely.”

“I saw you staring at me while you were in class,” he whispers close to your ear.

“What? You’re hot. Sue me.”

His chuckle is soft, a rumble in his chest that you feel through your back. “Most definitely can’t sue you over that. But don’t make me go in the office. I need you to pass these classes.”

“I appreciate the concern, dear. But I think I’m doing pretty good. Besides, I’m signed up for a random art history class. I can say you’re a piece of art I needed to analyze.”

The laughter’s not soft now, he full on giggles--a bit of it getting cut off as he inhales into the sound. “You’re ridiculous.” His lips are soft against your temple as he stands back up. “So spaghetti. Garlic bread is a must. Salad?”

“Ugh, I guess I do need veggies.”

“Yes, yes you do.” He continues into the kitchen, the clinking of pots hitting the isle’s of the stove and bowls, boxes, and jars setting onto the counter.

“How’s the other class going? You guys starting your novels yet?”

“19th Century Lit is well, 19th Century Lit.” Calum seemed intrigued by the Evil Children’s class you told him you saw. But it had filled by the time Calum got his work schedule sorted out. He turned to 19th Century Lit as his backup, and so far, it appeared to be going well. “We’re spending the first part on poetry. And that’s the most interesting. The rest of the books sound a little boring.”

You hum, nodding even though he can’t see you. “Hopefully the class picks up. I took a look at the spring classes. If you want to focus more on poetry there’s a Modern Poetry post 1930′s class.”

The glance is quick, but his brows are pulled upwards, in a slight intrigue. “I’d consider it for sure.”

The alarm on your phone goes off, letting you know you have ten minutes until the meeting. You turn back to your computer and start logging into the meeting. “You haven’t had an assignment for that class yet have you?”

“No. The midterm’s coming up soon though and I don’t even know how to begin to study for it.”

You pop one earbud in making sure your mic is muted. “You know I got you, babe.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your classes too. I-I might stop by the professors office hours and ask for help.”

“That’s always a good idea. Do you know when they are?”

“Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s.” You know he doubled checked them because he probably wouldn’t have that readily available from the first day of classes. “Gonna go tomorrow.”

Popping up from the chair, you press a kiss to his cheek, as the pan sizzles just a little and the pot of water not showing signs of bubbles just yet. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Calum returns, pulling you fully into his chest for a swift kiss. “Now, go! You’ve got a meeting.”

“Meeting schmeeting. Would rather kiss you.” You kiss him one last time before ducking back into the chair and turning the camera on. You notice just faintly in the background Calum’s visible as he shuffles between pans and pots. Duke walks up to you, standing up to get attention.

“Oh, you know I can’t say no,” you mutter, setting him in your lap.

“Is that Duke?” your supervisor asks. He’s crashed a couple meetings before.

You unmute and hold him better for everyone to see. “Yeah. His pops is cooking us dinner and that lack of attention just won’t do.”

“Hey, you say that like I don’t love him,” Calum retorts, threatening the back of your head with a spatula. You giggle before muting yourself and place Duke back into your lap, digging up the word document you’ve started for all the meeting notes.

Your supervisor laughs. “Well I think he’s getting plenty of attention in the chat.” There are some more dings as people join the meeting. “Looks like we have everyone, so let’s begin.”

tagging @calumscalm because you might still be taking that exam, love.

and @5-secondsofcolor bc sunday reads bubs.

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood x reader insert #calum 5sos #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #calum hood fluff #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes

102 notes · View notes

jincherie · 5 years ago

Text

florescence | iii

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 5.7k+ ❀ — rating: sfw ❀ — warnings: fluff, fluff & more fluff ❀ — notes: I slipped in an extra scene and edited what I had for this chapter, and here we are!!! I still have a fair amount of excess so I’m going to continue working on that along with things like tentacledipity huhuhuhuh anyway hope u enjoy this!!!

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 22.09.2019 // masterlist || prev. | next.

“Next, you put in the eggs?”

You hum in affirmation, feeling Seokjin hover just over your shoulder—far enough that the distance is polite, but close enough that the barest hints of his warmth from his body tickle your skin and make you yearn for more. A somewhat inappropriate and incredibly intrusive feeling that pops into your head, but not one that’s easily escaped either.

“Yup,” you chirp, already reaching for the ingredients. Before you can grasp them, Seokjin hastily retrieves them for you—nearly dropping them in the process but successfully delivering them into your hold nonetheless. You send him a smile and his cheeks flush pink, ears flicking back shyly. From the corner of your eye, you catch his tail attempting to whip eagerly from side to side behind him.

He is so cute you think you’re really going to burst.

“I hope these pancakes turn out better than the last ones,” you murmur softly as you stir, trying to fold the ingredients and mix them more efficiently. It was something that slipped out more as a musing, but you hear an affronted gasp from behind you as soon as the words grace the air nonetheless.

“y/n!” Seokjin says, tone taking on a reprimanding edge that has you fighting a smile. “The last pancakes were good! They were so good, I promise!”

You glance at him over your shoulder, finding him standing with hands in loose fists and a determined, somewhat distressed expression on his face. You really can’t hold back your smile.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you said, feeling your chest warm as his cheeks flush on cue. “I appreciate that, and I know they must have been at least a little bit good since you nearly ate yourself sick with them.”

At the mention of the incident that occurred only a day or so ago, Seokjin’s blush takes on another degree of severity and a sound that seems awfully akin to a whine leaks from his throat. You’d learned from Seokjin that they’d never had pancakes at the lab, and had immediately nearly thrown a fit and had an internal meltdown that resulted in you making them right then and there, immediately, to rectify it. You aren’t the biggest fan of pancakes, they aren’t even your favourite food, but they feel like such a crucial experience in life that the idea of the two hybrids never having had the pleasure of trying them… you were compelled to fix it.

As it turns out, they love them, so much that here you are making them again, lowkey teaching Seokjin how to do it himself. You aren’t sure if he’s really here for your company or to oversee the production of the pancakes. You’re inclined to believe the latter, but letting yourself think it is the former is nice while it lasts. You gotta be a little kind to yourself sometimes, after all.

The rest of the cooking experience goes smoothly, save for Seokjin almost burning himself on the pan. He gets a little too excited when you hand him the spatula, ears upright and deceptively alert—you quickly realise you should have been paying more attention to the blur of his whirring tail as he focuses too much on the bubbling pancakes and not enough on his own movements.

When his wrist dips a little too low and brushes the side of the pan, the reaction is immediate—he jerks his whole hand away, spatula dropping from his grasp, and a whimper slips from his throat that has you immediately at attention.

“Ah, Seokjin!” You immediately move and grasp his hand, bringing it closer to inspect it. Subconsciously, you pull him over to the sink as well. “Oh, bub, are you alright?”

Seokjin’s free hand finds your upper arm, gripping the material of your shirt as he flounders and stumbles over a response—your close proximity has him a little flustered, it seems. Catching sight of the red welt beginning to appear on the tan underside of his wrist, you bring it over the sink and turn the tap, allowing cold water to run over the mild burn. He jumps, letting out an ‘eep’ before leaning closer to the sink and, as a result, further against you.

“I-I’m fine!” he attempts to reassure you, before a soft whimper slips out as you tilt his wrist. “I-I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention… It was stupid of me…”

“A little bit silly, but not stupid. I’m not going to fault you for being excited, Seokjin,” you inform him, turning the tap off and inspecting the burn to assess its severity. When you deem it okay enough that it shouldn’t need too much more water or attention, you bring it to your lips and press a light kiss over it. “There. All better.”

In your defence, you hadn’t really realised what you’d done—for your job you’re around children often and do such things without so much as a second thought. But when you turn and see Seokjin standing stock still, staring at his wrist with eyes blown wide and his entire face turning pink, you quickly realise your folly and are immediately overtaken by the conflicting urges to coo, laugh, and apologise.

You’re a little embarrassed. He doesn’t seem upset about it though, just flustered, so you decide he can go without a flustered, bumbling apology in return and you can save yourself a tiny bit of your pride. You slap on a big, dumb smile and then shuffle back to the pan, flipping the pancakes before they can begin to burn.

With that little incident over, you get back to cooking. It takes a while for the flush to leave Seokjin’s face, and when you emerge from the kitchen with pancakes to greet Taehyung, he sends the two of you a curious, questioning look. The only thing that saves you from having to answer is the way the smell of the food seems to suddenly possess the two of them, and how as soon as it touches their tongues they’ve both completely forgotten.

You’ll have to be more mindful of your habits, it seems.

Over the next few days as you gradually get everything you had on your list and your orders arrive, you’re overjoyed to note that the two hybrids seem to be allowing themselves to open up slightly and draw a little closer, bit by bit. No longer secluding himself in the room or confining himself to the living room on his favourite couch, Seokjin will now occasionally wander into the kitchen when you’re cooking and hover as he had when the two of you made pancakes, curious gaze raking in everything you do. Sometimes he’ll make a comment and strike up a small conversation, ask whatever tickles his interest, but the silence that fills the air between you when he doesn’t isn’t an uncomfortable one, unlike how it might have been before.

Taehyung too seems to be allowing you into his heart in baby steps. While he still hasn’t spoken, it’s becoming easier and easier for you to stop associating his speech— or lack thereof in this instance — with however he might feel about you, and it means you’re able to enjoy the time he spends with you that much more. The tall russet-haired hybrid has taken to pulling you to sit next to him for a movie, sitting apart on the couch but just close enough that his shoulder barely brushes yours. He also, as his most recent effort, tugged you down to sit in the sun with him in your courtyard, both of you laying sideways across the hammock so that your upper bodies are supported and your legs hang over the edge. You can tell that he’s still warring with his incredibly shy nature, because both instances he spends with a pretty blush across his cheeks and nose. You think that both of the hybrids are beautiful, but you also think that the times Taehyung spends relaxing outside with you are where he is most beautiful; with the afternoon sun bathing his tan skin in rays of gold and melting his eyes into pools of ember, russet hair and fur gleaming like silk, he glows ethereal.

Seokjin doesn’t join the two of you when you lay outside, but sometimes when you enter and catch him by the doorway you swear you can see a glimmer of longing in his gemstone eyes.

It is perhaps a week after the events of the day that spurred everything into motion that you finally catch a glimpse of the most vulnerable parts of the silver fox hybrid.

Once more it’s a time of night where you should probably be asleep, yet you find yourself wandering into the kitchen in the dark with the intention of surreptitiously making yourself a tea and hoping you don’t wake your housemates with sensitive ears. You get to the point of boiling the jug when you notice the front screen door is slightly ajar and a breeze is sifting through to brush your skin with a cool caress. Curious, if slightly alarmed, you strain your ears and catch the slight creak you know too well as that of the hammock when it swings under the weight of a body. You pause for a moment, pondering how to proceed, and end up silently retrieving another mug from the cupboard, dropping another teabag in.

A few minutes later finds you padding softly to the door, sliding it open as carefully as you can with both of your hands full. You’re not sure who you expect to see occupying the hammock at this time of night, considering Taehyung is the only one who has shown an affinity for snuggling in it, but the animal he is spliced with is also not the nocturnal type. It is Seokjin that greets your eyes as they slowly adjust to the dark, and the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat.

If Taehyung is a child of the sun, then Seokjin belongs to the moon. His charcoal hair has turned to ink and shines like silk in the moonlight, tan skin tinged soft blue and rose petal lips painted violet. He is lost in thought, eyes glazed and glimmering, and beneath the moons rays he is aglow and radiant. The fur on his ears and tail is the same glossy ink as his hair yet looks so impossibly soft and fluffy your hands ache to touch it. When you take a step closer and his ears flick, registering the sound and your presence a moment later, and he almost jumps out of his skin.

“y-y/n!” he bursts, eyes wide as he scrambles from where he is curled in the hammock, almost tipping himself out of it in the process. “W-what are you doing up? Did I wake you? I’m so sorry—”

You can’t help but smile at his fluster, letting out a soft giggle. “You didn’t wake me, don’t worry Seokjin. I was up getting a tea and heard you out here so I made you one as well. Scooch over, bub.”

At the term of affection tacked on at the end, Seokjin’s face erupts into a violent blush. He sputters but he does what you say without thinking, cheeks glowing with heat. You ease down next to him so you’re both sitting with your legs over the edge, the nature of the hammock causing your shoulders to press together and your bodies to tilt towards each other. You hand him his mug and he takes it shyly, wrapping his hands around the heated ceramic immediately; it’s a little chilly, out here in the open.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, averting his gaze as he takes a sip. A pleased hum escapes him before he can stop it, his cheeks warming even further. You take a sip of your own drink to muffle your laugh.

The silence that sinks over you after that is comfortable, the two of you directing your gazes to the sky. You’re far enough from the centre of the city that you can still see the stars, and you’re admittedly a bit mesmerised as they glimmer. The moon, too, is hypnotically beautiful tonight. It’s waxing, and you don’t doubt that in a week or so it will be completely full.

Before long, you can feel a shift in the air, a slight weight that wasn’t there before, and your attention is drawn from the sky. Turning to face Seokjin, he has an expression like he wishes to speak, to ask you something, his eyes flicking periodically from your form to the sky and the flowers in your courtyard.

“Is everything okay, Seokjin?” you ask after a few moments. You wanted to see if he would voice whatever is on his mind by himself, but when he remains hesitant you decide to help ease him into it. “What’s on your mind?”

The hybrid eyes you for a long few moments, amber eyes glimmering, before he realises he is staring and promptly rips his gaze away. You fight a smile for the sake of his pride.

“I just…” he stops as suddenly as he starts, teeth sinking into his lip. Curiously, you note that his canines are a little bit longer than your own human ones—you hope that doesn’t mean he is prone to nicking himself with them. “I…”

You wait patiently, kicking your feet a little and taking a sip of your drink. Seokjin catches the movement of your legs and a small smile catches his lips. It drops when he sighs a moment later, apparently focusing on ordering his thoughts.

“I didn’t think this would ever happen,” he admits finally, voice small and a split second from cracking. His fingers tap against the mug in their hold, his eyes averted from your own and his brow furrowed. You give him a few moments, and he elaborates for you. “I didn’t think I would ever… we would ever, you know…”

When he risks a glance your way your head is tilted, eyes on him as you wait patiently for him to continue. He flushes, mumbling.

“I didn’t think… we would ever get a home.”

It’s as though your heart freezes in your chest for a moment, your mouth dropping open a little bit. Seokjin fumbles over his words a little, but now that he’s started he doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

“I-I mean, I kind of always knew Taehyung would get a home. He is sweet, and loyal, and he meets the aesthetic requirements of his batch. He’s shy, but it’s not a deal-breaker for everyone. But I…” he swallows, blinking rapidly; your hand itches to wrap around his own and intertwine your fingers to comfort him, but you refrain. “But I… I don’t fit what they want, what they aimed for. My features are a mutation—by the definition my creation was an experiment and my existence is a failure.”

“Seokjin…” you breathe, your own eyes stinging. He takes in a shaky breath, sniffling sharply once.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this…” he says, and you can see his cheeks glowing with heat once more. “I… I can’t help it, though. You…”

He flushes further, if possible, and looks incredibly embarrassed about what he’s about to confess. His tail whips anxiously behind him before wrapping around his middle, ears pressed backwards.

“You feel… safe, to me, to us,” he admits in such a soft whisper your ears strain to hear it. He can barely look at you he is blushing so badly, and you curse the way your heart flips in response to his fluster. “P-please don’t think it’s weird, b-but your scent… it is very calming. It… feels safe. For Taehyung, too. E-even though we haven’t scented y—”

He suddenly cuts off, eyes blown wide and an expression of mortification crossing his handsome features. Unfortunately for him, you can’t squash your sudden burning curiosity.

“Even though you haven’t what?” you prompt, eyes searching his features—Seokjin looks very much like he’d rather sink into the earth and become one with the soil than answer you.

“N-nothing. It’s nothing, it’s not important.” You thought he was just flustered, but to your surprise you note a bit of fear filtering just barely through his tone. What is he scared of? Does he fear that he’ll receive some sort of reaction in particular from you? The idea saddens you a little bit.

“Seokjin, please don’t be scared to tell me things,” you say softly, finally allowing your hand to reach and grasp his own. He jolts, looking to you with wide eyes; yet his fingers still curl around your own immediately, and the action soothes any sudden worries that might make themselves known in your thoughts. As you speak, you realise that part of his hesitation might stem from the feelings he hinted at the other day. “Nothing you say or do will ever be a deal-breaker for me, Seokjin. Nothing you do will ever be something that makes me take you back. In all honesty, unless it was something I knew you wanted, I’d rather chop all four of my limbs off than take you back or do something that would hurt you.”

The hybrid is more than taken aback at your words, his mouth hanging open and ears part-way extended from his hair. It takes him a few moments for your words to sink in completely.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, and his voice cracks. His eyes begin to water. “Do you… do you really mean that?”

You nod at him, smiling softly. “I’m happy with you and Taehyung, Seokjin. I want you.”

The last three words that fall from your lips are simple yet seem to have a more profound effect on him than anticipated. He lets out a whimper, a choked-sounding gasp of sorts, and jerks as though he wants to throw his arms around you but restrains himself at the last moment. He doesn’t speak, can’t seam to speak, but the second you catch his gaze with your own you find an ocean of emotions shimmering and swirling before you. Gently, you take his mug from his hands and place it with yours down by the end of the hammock. When you sit back up, you open your arms to him and he doesn’t waste a second, another whimper escaping before he throws himself at you, hammock rocking dangerously from the momentum of his movement.

His face is shoved in the crook of your neck once more, arms looped tightly around your middle. You feel secure, safe, and your chest warms with affection as Seokjin shifts and brings you closer to him, barely a few movements away from pulling your straight onto his lap. You run your hand up and down his back soothingly, fingers dragging over the firm curves of muscle.

“Thank you, y/n.” His voice is a barely-there whisper that brushes your neck gently, and you can feel the movement of his lashes as he scrunches his eyes shut and presses his face closer. “Thank you.”

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, leaning your head against his as you did last time he embraced you; he lets out a happy chitter. You feel at peace, content, and you can feel the shift in the air—can feel how he has opened himself a little more to you.

“You’re more than welcome, Seokjin,” you murmur.

And you mean it, you really do.

x + x + x +

The next morning when you awake, it’s not to your alarm like you expect. Despite the fact you’d still returned to bed later last night, especially after your little one-on-one with Seokjin in the courtyard, you still didn’t want to sleep in too late. To be fair you love sleep, but don’t particularly enjoy the feeling like you’re wasting the day when you wake up too late. Hence, you’d begrudgingly set an alarm despite the fact you don’t really have to be up for anything.

Even so, you’re quick to realise upon waking that the alarm you’d set on your phone isn’t the culprit. Instead the real cause reveals itself as you crack your eyes open and rub them blearily, eyesight gradually adjusting. To your complete and utter surprise, it’s Taehyung’s face that greets you as you come to your senses, his cheeks already flushed the second your gaze lands on him. Confusion filters through your mind and then concern in quick succession—Taehyung has never come into your room before, what made him now?

“Taehyung?” you query, sitting up suddenly and clearing your throat so your voice doesn’t stay so rough. “Is everything ok? Did something happen?”

His cheeks flush further but he holds your concerned gaze as he shakes his head, shifting nervously where he’s standing by the top of your bed. Something twitches on your shoulder and you realise quickly its his finger, his hand gently cupping the curve of it—he must have been gently shaking you awake with his hold.

When he shakes his head, you feel all the tension leave you in one big huff of relief. “Oh thank goodness,” you manage to say before a yawn stopped you in your tracks. “What’s up, bub?”

Again you tacked on the nickname unthinkingly, and it seems to fluster the poor hybrid even more than it did Seokjin the night before. Taehyung stares at you with wide eyes, tail trembling behind him—his ears aren’t flattened against his head, though, so you take that to mean you haven’t embarrassed him too badly.

Instead of speaking—not like you expected him to at this point, in all honesty—he bites his lip and moves his hand to grasp your own. You have barely a moment to register how soft and warm his palm is as it cups yours before he’s tightening his grip and tugging it gently, urging you to follow him. Confused but curious to see what he’s up to, you allow him to guide you from the bed and out of your room, following him as he makes a beeline for the kitchen.

To your surprise, upon entering the kitchen you’re greeted with the sight of two plates with some cut up fruit, boiled eggs and toast placed neatly on top. Off to the side is a third plate covered in plastic wrap so nothing gets on it, and you assume that one is for Seokjin whenever he wakes. You return your gaze to the other two plates as you draw closer, sniffing and absolutely salivating at the smell of freshly-made coffee as it brushes your nostrils.

“Oh, Taehyung, that smells and looks delicious,” you praise him readily, keeping your hand in his as you move closer to inspect the meal that had been so nicely prepared for you. You can’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat, the giddy feeling tickling your stomach, at the fact that Taehyung had taken the time to do this—for you. And Seokjin too, but honestly considering how close they are you wouldn’t expect anything less.

He shakes his head shyly, blushing, and attempts to shake his hair so that it hides his face from you. His ears flick towards you at the giggle that escapes your lips, and he bites his lip as he forces himself to return his gaze to you. You watch as he reaches with his free hand to grasp one of the plates, before standing still and waiting pointedly. Quickly, you do the same, begrudgingly releasing his hand so you can grasp your drink as well. His arm twitches towards you before falling to his side. Cheeks burning, the male makes sure your attention is on him before he turns and begins walking from the kitchen. It doesn’t take you long to realise where he is going.

The sun is warm as it kisses your skin but the air is cool enough to elicit a shiver as you step outside, following the male closely. He moves to the hammock, already smiling as the sun hits his skin, and settles down before looking over at you expectantly. You really can’t hold your grin as you move over quickly, sitting down carefully so you don’t rock the hammock too much. You have to take a quick sip of your drink as you lower yourself so that it doesn’t spill over the top, and let out a pleased hum at the taste. He made it perfectly how you like it—it seems he’s more observant than he lets on.

“What a pretty day,” you comment, taking in the cool shadows of the morning in contrast to the crisp patches of sunlight. Taehyung nods from beside you, lifting his fork but hesitating before using it. You’re confused for a moment, before you realise its something both him and Seokjin have subtly done ever since they’ve been here. They won’t start eating until you do. You’re a little disappointed in yourself for not noticing earlier, since it’s clearly a carry-over of whatever rules they were taught at the lab. In your defence though, as soon as you see food you develop a tunnel vision of sorts. It’s clearly something you need to work on.

Quick to pick up your own fork and start eating so he doesn’t have to wait, you tell him he’s always welcome to start before you. He blushes, but after holding your gaze for a few moments nods in acknowledgement. You beam at him and he averts his gaze, shoving a piece of melon in his mouth. Cute.

You chatter idly as you sit there with Taehyung, not in an attempt to fill the silence so much as just because you wanted to—most of what you were saying were praises and thanks, anyway. He’s clearly flustered at your words but also seems to preen, clearly a little bit proud of himself. You’re pleased to see that. Little by little, he seems to be coming out of his shell, and the prospect is exciting.

Taehyung finishes before you, and the second the last item of food leaves the plate and enters your mouth, he takes the ceramic from your hands and moves it with his own out of the way on the ground. A temporary location. You’ve barely finished chewing when he pops back up, looking somewhat hesitant but with a shimmer of something else hiding in the depths of his gaze. His fingers clutch each other as he looks at you, tail winding and then unwinding around his waist as his ears lower then raise again.

Your immediate instinct is to ask him what’s up, but you hold yourself back—part of you wants to know if he’ll tell you himself, even if it isn’t with words. You want to see how he will proceed.

He seems to catch on quickly that you’re waiting for him, as he wriggles and averts his eyes nervously. He takes a deep breath, straightening his back, and frees one of his hands so it can lift—before it falls back down quickly and he loses his nerve. His cheeks are flushed still, so whatever is on his mind is clearly flustering him, and you continue to wait for him to do what he wants to do in his own time.

His hand lifts again, fingers tentatively touching your hand, then your arm, then your neck where it meets your collarbone. He retracts his hand immediately after, looking troubled as to how to convey what he wants. Curious, you watch as he gathers his thoughts and seems to steel himself once more, before he reaches out with only the slightest tremble to his hand and points at you. He then moves and wraps his arms around himself, looking at you pointedly.

You’re a little lost on what he means, a few possibilities trickling through your mind, but you decide to take the least likely and tease him a bit. “Are you asking if I’m I cold?”

Taehyung’s face drops, his ears twitching as he realises how you could have gotten that message. He huffs, shaking his head, and wraps his arms tighter and higher around himself. This time, he drops his head gently to the side onto his shoulder, looking at you pointedly with pink cheeks.

Biting your lip to contain your smile, you can’t help but tease him a little more. “Do you want a teddy bear?”

A grimace twists his features for a moment, before his expression drops completely—something that makes your stomach fall with it since he seems to be about to give up. He seems even more embarrassed now, in combination with downcast, as he straightens back up, and you’re quick to try and remedy the situation you just created.

“I’m kidding, Taehyung,” you smile softly, fingers fiddling in your lap. This will be really embarrassing for you if you misinterpreted what he was trying to say. “Do… do you want to cuddle?”

Immediately, his expression lights up, and he’s nodding so hurriedly you’re worried he’s going to pull a muscle in his neck. A laugh spills out of you of its own accord as you adjust your position on the hammock, moving to lay down along it and opening your arms to the male.

Taehyung, in what has to be the boldest movement you’ve ever seen him make, dives into your arms so eagerly that the hammock rocks dangerously as a result. It pulls another laugh from you as he stiffens and tries to hold his balance for a moment, tail a little more raised than usual and wriggling in excitement. Once he is sure the hammock has calmed and he wont be tipped to the ground, he eases himself down next to you and wriggles closer, so that he isn’t pressed too closely to the edge.

He seems pleased to have gotten where he is, but you still catch some hesitance in the way he is lying next to you, his arms curled at his chest and tail flicking restlessly. Your shoulders are pressed together, he’s not apart from you, but you get the feeling he is itching to be even closer still. You catch it in the small shifts and wriggles he does, the way his fingers twitch and legs move despite how still he stays.

“You’re too cute, Taehyung,” you laugh, the soft sound catching his attention as he looks up to meet your eyes. “Come here and actually cuddle me.”

With that, you shift and slip your arm beneath his back, wriggling into a more comfortable position and pulling him closer. He blushes madly, but seems relieved you’ve given him the go-ahead as he’s quick to wrap his arms around you, too. You’re on your back and he curls around you on his side, one arm slipping beneath the curve of your lower back and the other draping across your stomach—funnily enough, the way he’s holding you is like you are a big teddy bear in his arms. His tail is soft as it curls over his hip and, as a result, over yours too. The fur tickles you a little and you can feel Taehyung smile against your skin where his face is pressed to your neck. Part of the hammock is in the cool of the shade, but with him cuddled so close you’re more than warm enough.

Humming, with one hand you play with the hair at the nape of his neck and with the other you smooth and brush through the fur on his black-tipped tail. Instantly, the hybrid absolutely melts in your arms, body going so slack in contentment that it melds to your own. You catch him inhaling deeply and then letting out a big breath, the puff of air hot against your skin. His ears flick against your jaw, taking in each and ever sound around you. It’s…. serene. You feel so at peace, and comfortable—you can only hope Taehyung feels that way too.

The silence that settles over the two of you isn’t uncomfortable, in fact it’s quite the opposite. It’s like a blanket of warmth, and before long beneath it and the suns rays the two of you find yourself getting sleepy. Not long into your position on the hammock and you feel Taehyung’s breathing even out completely, his body curling around yours even more as he buries his face further into your neck. You follow him soon after, sleepy eyes drifting closed and sleep eagerly reclaiming you in the comfort of his hold.

x + x +

It can’t be much later that you’re shaken from sleep by movement on the hammock. Blearily, you open your eyes and blink away the remnants of sleep, struggling to focus them and see the cause of the movement. Taehyung shifts against your side, pressing futher into your neck and clutching you tighter. It’s not him.

You look up and catch Seokjin frozen in his movements, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Uh, y/n…” he stumbles over his words, clearly embarrassed. You quickly realise what he was trying to do as he goes to pull away.

“’s okay, Seokjin,” you smile at him, if somewhat sleepily, and grasp his hand in yours—you use the grip to tug him gently down. “You can come cuddle too.”

The hybrid is visibly overjoyed at your words, and wastes no time in crawling completely onto the hammock as he’d been trying to do before, curling into your side like a puppy. His bushy tail is wagging slightly, before he forces it to calm and wraps it over his hip so it flops over you as well. He seems a little unsure and hesitant of where to put his hands and head, and with a soft giggle you guide his head to your shoulder and his arm to drape over you. You don’t realise Taehyung is awake as well until he moves the arm across your abdomen to hold Seokjin’s hand, resting their conjoined palms over your stomach. The action warms your heart like nothing else and even in your sleepy haze you can’t help but grin, nuzzling into both of them and enjoying the warmth on your skin from the sun and their embrace.

You can only hope that they won’t be afraid to hold you like this again after today.

a/n: thank u for reading, pls let me know what u think!! and feel free to let me know its not total trash by dropping a like or rb,,, if it’s not too much trouble!! and if u enjoyed this and would like to support me, pls feel free to drop by my ko-fi :3

masterlist || prev. | next.

2K notes · View notes

howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 4: Suck It Up

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 4. Takes place in my Httyd Zombie AU. Main fic to follow soon. The Dragon Riders exist even in a modern post-apocalyptic world and so the Dragon Hunters. When a pair get their hands on Hiccup, they attempt to do away with him in a rather slow manner.

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Hookfang

Pairing: None

Words: 2 071

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Buried alive

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: I think this is the first prompt I finished for Whumptober and I've been so excited to share this one.

Written for the prompt: Buried alive.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

----------------------------------------------------------------------

His head pounding and the metal taste of blood on his tongue, that is what Hiccup wakes up to. That and the dusty smell of old wood mixed with dirt. Neither of those three are all that pleasant on their own, let alone mixed together in such a way and all Hiccup can do is groan in displeasure at this sensory experience.

He attempts to bring a hand up to his forehead to hold his head, but finds it blocked by the wood that he's smelling. His hand thunks against it painfully, without a doubt chafing the skin on his knuckles and fingers.

It's right in front of him for some reason and it's a struggle to bring his hand up and feel the drying blood staining one side of his face.

A head wound. He's had so many by now that he can just tell. He hopes he hasn't been out for too long or he might be in more trouble than he can afford.

With this sudden resurfacing to the land of the conscious, his groaning is met by muffled chuckling and something being dropped with a scrambled thud on something hollow. Like dirt being shoveled.

It isn't until it happens a second and a third time that he realizes that this sound is much too close for comfort and specks of dust fall on his face that he realizes that dirt is being dropped on him.

"He-hey! What's-" He coughs, turning to not get lungfuls of dust only to find that this space is too small for him to even properly turn.

Opening his eyes, or trying to with all that dirt, he sees old wooden planks with the occasional mistreated spider's web in front of him. A quick look provides him with no comfort and he finds he's surrounded by these planks. He swiftly realizes the position that he's in.

He's being buried alive.

"Oh no... Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!" He repeats it over and over again, coughing more than once with all the grime falling between the teeny tiny cracks between the uneven boards.

Those cracks are the only reason he can even see as slivers of moonlight can still wiggle their way inside.

The chuckling from outside comes again and two people are talking about something he can't quite understand. He doesn't recognize the voices either, but remembering the predicament he'd been in before he blacked out gives him all the answers he needs.

Dragon Hunters. Not Viggo's men, not anymore, not since Krogan took over. But though their master has changed, their hatred for the Dragon Riders has not. They've managed to get their hands on him and now they are trying to dispose of him in an utmost terrible way.

There's no reasoning with them, not with these people. So all Hiccup can do is try to break free.

There is very little he can do. A panic causes him to slam his fists on the boards, he kicks them until his toes hurt, and almost too late does he see the nails poking out of some of them. Clearly they'd torn down some aged rickety whatever to quickly put a poorly made coffin together. No care had been put in removing unnecessary nails.

One of the nails scrape against a pinky finger and the burning causes his hand to start trembling. He's glad he noticed the nails before he impaled his fist on it, but that scrape is still worrying. His skin broke just enough to bleed and the last thing he needs is to catch tetanus.

But he can't let those concerns stop him. He needs to get out of this coffin before he's been completely buried and he can't get out anymore.

They can hear him struggle and it's reason for humor amongst the Hunters burying him. They find his growing panic hilarious. Every pounding of his fist on the top of the coffin in the hopes of breaking through the wood, of dislocating a board just enough to tear it away, it brings forth new chuckles and he can imagine the smug smirks on their faces. The sound of his struggling must be like music to their ears.

Hiccup coughs again, tasting the dirt and the falling webs on his tongue and gags. What little light there is in this death trap is being taken from him as more and more ground is shoveled on his coffin. His heart is racing.

His fists and kicks are doing nothing. Besides a scrape, he can't muster up the strength required to do any real damage even to himself in such a small space. And he can't turn in some vain attempt to push with his shoulders or back.

"Bud! BUD! TOOTHLESS!" So Hiccup shouts at the top of his lungs as his list of options is depleted much too quickly. He's hoping beyond hope that his Night Fury's exceptional hearing will pick up on his calls.

He should be conserving his air and just hope that his Dragon Riders will find him in time. They should know by now that he's missing, they rarely separate for long as it is. They should know he's missing and know that this means he's in trouble.

"GUYS!" He shouts and hears his voice reverberating off the walls surrounding him and make his eardrums protest. It does his headache little favors as well as his growing frantic need to get out as well as the steady loss of air.

And then the last of his light is stolen, that little bit of airflow is cut off, when they finish covering the top of his coffin entirely with loose dirt.

How long will it take them to finish leveling this unmarked grave they've thrown him in? How long until they leave? How long until his air runs out? Surprisingly enough, he never thought to research for how long you can breathe when you're buried alive before the Outbreak.

"Please, please find me." He pleads for no one to hear.

Hiccup grabs fistfuls of his shirt, attempting to calm his breathing even as the gravity of his predicament threatens to suffocate the life out of him. It takes him everything not to hyperventilate. He can feel tears welling up, can feel the lump in the throat and he holds his breath for a full three seconds before he dares to breathe out.

His effort to keep his emotions in check is almost in vain, and tears do wet his face before he can feel the need to cry slowly ebb away, forcing that overwhelming emotion to back down.

He's been doing this for too long to let something like this break his control over himself, the control he's been so carefully protecting and crafting this entire time.

Though getting buried alive is certainly a first for him.

'Please find me. Someone, please find me. Please, please, please. Please, Toothless. Astrid.' He has to think his pleas as saying them will only waste what precious air he has left for now.

It's what his Dragon Riders have been counting on for the past three years and a half. His level head, his creativity, his ability to sometimes have control over whatever situation they find themselves in this time. He can't lose that.

They count on him. They count on him, he just has to remember that and hold onto that fact.

Attempting to imagine their fear, them realizing that they can't rely on their leader, he wants to use the discomforting thought of his loved ones being afraid to keep himself in check.

It's working.

They need him and that means he can't die. He just has to tell himself that.

The sweating and trembling of his body, his heart racing, his headache's pounding worsening aren't signs that he's failing. And neither is the near bruising grip on his arms or the nearly dried tears returning with a vengeance.

His squeezes his eyes shut, they streak down his temple.

"C'mon, Bud. C'mon." They leave as whispers as he can feel these cramped walls closing in on him, he can't keep them down. It's getting harder and harder to breathe and he's not sure if it's because of his panicking or because his air is already running out.

How long has it been? He hasn't owned a watch or a digital clock, like a phone, in such a long time. He hasn't missed a mobile device or even thought about having one since he's lost his months after Outbreak Day after it had run out of battery long before that. But the light would've been appreciated. He has a lighter, but a flame, even as little as that one, will only eat away at what little oxygen still present.

Oh, where is his trusty flashlight? Where is it?

"C'mon, guys. C'mon..."

It's just as he's starting to lose hope and his panic is nearing a point of no return that the sound of hurried shuffling finally reaches his ears. The layers of dirt above his coffin are quickly being removed.

He dares to open his eyes, but his bruising grip or his hurried breathing don't let up. He has to blink a couple of times as more dust falls, but then the layers go and he hears voices. He recognizes them instantly and they become clearer and clearer.

It's them. They found him!

"There! There, I can see wood!" He can hear Tuffnut shouting, immediately followed by impatient whining and claws clawing away the last layers to then scratch at the box itself.

"Toothless?" Hiccup asks and the slivers of moonlight returns to him.

"Hiccup? Hiccup, can you hear me? We're here!" And that's Astrid. He can just barely hear her over the clawing, but that's definitely her.

His panic doesn't leave. It isn't until Toothless manages to grab hold of the lid and rips it open that light and air wash over him like a rampant wave crashing on a rocky cliffside.

His Night Fury is the first one he sees.

"Bud," He whispers.

The fresh air hits him like a truck and Hiccup inhales as much of it as he can. Toothless lets out a pained moan and smashes their faces together in his want to touch his human, to feel his warmth and his presence, to be comforted by the fact that he's still alive and they got to him in time.

Their cheeks pressed together, Hiccup holds his dragon's cheeks to keep him close. His hands are still shivering and he has to suppress the sobs of relief.

"Toothless, how about we get him out of there?" Astrid suggests, laying a hand on his shoulder, and the Night Fury reluctantly moves out of the way.

Once they can, the Riders grab him and swiftly haul him out of his would-be grave. Fishlegs and Snotlout each grab an arm to pull on.

Out of the box and into the open air, Hiccup stands on his feet only to find his legs too wobbly. So they lower him down onto the ground and Toothless is by his side again. Astrid kneels at his one available side and dusts him off.

"Are you okay? We got worried when you didn't return from your supply run and..."

"We were expecting to find you bleeding out or in trouble or something. Never would've thought they would bury you alive." Ruffnut speaks up, her hand holding her other arm.

The Dragon Riders are gathered around him, both the humans and the dragons. Hookfang blows some grime out of his hair.

"Yeah, I'm happy to be out, too." Hiccup tells him, scratching the Nightmare's chin.

"Well, we're happy too, but can you answer my question now? Are you okay?" Astrid repeats her question as Hiccup has neglected to answer it before.

He looks at her for a moment and nods.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine, I just-I just need a moment." He tells her, though it is the opposite of how he actually feels.

He feels awful. Though he's out now, he's weak with fear. This won't be an experience he'll just get to forget like some others.

But he'll just have to suck it up.

That's what he's been doing for well over the past three years, just sucking it up and accept that this is his reality now. No harm in repressing this bad experience as well.

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #buried alive #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfic #rtte #race to the edge #httyd zombie au #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #panic attack #my fanfics #suck it up

32 notes · View notes

asoftervirge · 4 years ago

Text

Of “Love” & Murder - (8/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Intelligence is Lethal and Deadly

RATING: M PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Murder, Arsenic Poisoning, mentions of Lying, mentions of a False Past, brief mention of Alcohol, minor Religious Allegory, introduction to Janus Sanders CHAPTER SUMMARY: Logan tells Patton all about his death.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And now, the death of Logan! Plus, we get the introduction to the last of Virgil’s spouses! :D Not a lot of triggers for this chapter, but it’s still a death chapter, so please take care of yourself if you decide to keep going! And in case anyone was wondering, Logan’s death was inspired by an Italian novel, and actual arsenic poisoned books that are currently housed in the University of Denmark. Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

Patton’s heart dropped to his stomach. Like with hearing the method of Roman’s murder, his face grew pale and his hands started quaking. He could swear that his legs were also buckling and quaking underneath of himself.

“You—” he almost didn’t know what to say. “Y-You were poisoned?!”

“I hadn’t realized my sentence has fallen upon deaf ears,” Logan’s mouth twists into something almost cruel. “After hearing of Roman’s ultimate demise, I did not realize that hearing Virgil is capable of committing such horrific and murderous atrocities is still hard so conceive.”

Again, Logan didn’t have to be mean about it, but it’s true! Even after hearing Roman explain how he was murdered; Patton was still in some form of denial. He’s been seeing Virgil for over a month now, and he’s just now discovering the truth about him? It was like he was in a nightmare! And, in a way, he is; a nightmare where he isn’t sleeping, which seems to be much worse.

He didn’t have it in him to ask how, he didn’t even know if he could. Poisoning was poisoning, it was so linear that there is almost no need for an explanation. And yet, Logan was willing to give him one.

“It appeared to be a normal day for the two of us. We woke up together, made and had breakfast, then spent some time by ourselves— I was working on essays for journals and drafting a possible novel idea. Virgil isolated himself upstairs in his office doing whatever he tended to occupy himself with— but that didn’t mean we did not spend quality time together. We would have afternoon tea, then then dinner, and after that we would spend some time reading in the library before we would go to bed.”

“It was very unexpected,” the novelist’s frown grows deeper. “Virgil seemed…almost normal, as normal as a murderer can be. I failed to see him poisoning my possessions, I failed to any murderous paraphernalia in the manor, and most importantly, I failed to see the truth behind all the niceties. I failed to see how I had fallen into the trappings of evil.”

Patton’s heart sunk lower in his body. Logan’s fancy way of words almost made is seem crueler.

Xe continued on. “I was here in the library, simply enjoying my novel when he came in with a tray of drinks and snacks. Then he left and returned with a box for me, a box containing my favorite work by Agatha Christie. One could say that I was touched by what he had gifted me. I absorbed myself in the novel, but I slowly started to have an upset stomach. I drank my tea in hopes that would help me, but then an unbearable pain quickly took hold of my being. Sweet-sounding words were then cooed into my ear, but they didn’t hide any cruelty. And finally, blackness.”

…

Virgil shuffled about the kitchen, humming a tune under his breath as he finishes preparing drinks for himself and his new spouse Logan, French press coffee and green tea respectively. The kitchen still faintly smelled of the dinner they had just had together moments before, a dish that was a particular favorite of the novelist.

(Even though xe was going to die soon, he figured he would give xem the same treatment he did his first husband. Minus the whole drowning and choking, that is.)

He also got started on biscuits and cake for themselves, grabbing dishes of butter, marmalade, chocolate sauce, and jelly spreads— which was an unabashed weakness of Logan’s.

All that was needed was one more finishing touch.

He made his way upstairs and into his office. Sitting on his desk was a decorative box, but he wasn’t focused on that just yet. He rummaged through the drawers before finally finding what he was looking for.

It was a small bottle filled with a white powder.

Any normal person might confuse it with everyday things like flour or baking soda, but Virgil knew exactly what it was and what it was used for.

Smirking, he grabbed the bottle and the box before taking them back down to the kitchen.

He opens the bottle, making sure he doesn’t inhale any of the toxins, before dumping some into Logan’s tea. He quickly puts the bottle away before stirring the contents together so it would dissolve.

When it did, he finally carried the tray to the library where he knew his second partner would be.

Sure enough, Logan was reclining in one of the chairs closest to the fireplace. One hand was holding xyrs book securely so it wouldn’t fall out of xyrs lap, while the other was perched on xyrs chin. Xyrs dark blue eyes were looking at the text in deep fascination.

Virgil couldn’t help but peak down and look at the cover.

Cosmos by Carl Sagan.

He liked talking about stars and constellations and whatnot with Logan every now and again, but sometimes he would get annoyed because the novelist would drone on and on. He often wondered how xe was able to do that publicly, every single day and not annoy people. Then again, the panels and conferences they would attend (much to Virgil’s chagrin) would often have people that shared in xyrs interests.

In a way, xe almost reminded him of Roman, what with how he would talk about Disney and Broadway musicals all the time. The only difference was he didn’t hear singing constantly coming from the novelist’s mouth, if any for that matter.

(Such a minute thing almost made Virgil miss the late actor…almost.)

A soft clearing of his throat got Logan’s attention.

“Ah, Virgil,” Xe sits up a little straighter and closes his book, but not without putting a page-marker in it. “How are you this evening, my moonlight?”

Despite his dark motivations, Virgil couldn’t help the tiny blush and faint growl. Damn this nerd for saying something so simple yet making it affectionate at the same time!

He quickly recovered however. “Oh, I’m doing just fine, starshine.” He says as he sets the tray down on the table beside Logan. He moved closer and gave him a small pinch to the corner of his lips. (This was their special way of expressing love to each other since neither were very affectionate people). “Reading anything special?”

“Nothing that I already didn’t know about,” xe tells him, showing him the cover. “But it’s still an exciting read regardless.”

Virgil hummed. “Well, I’ve brought some tea and biscuits for us before bed. I even brought your favorite jellies because I know you can’t resist.” He snickered at the noise Logan made. “I’ll be right back, just have to get something else from the kitchen.”

“Alright.”

His devious smirk returned as he slipped out of the library and back into the kitchen where he left the box. He grabs it and returns to see Logan still preoccupied with his current book.

The wealthy man cleared his throat once more, signaling that he came back.

Logan looked up. “Oh, you’ve returned.” Xe noticed the box Virgil was holding. “What is that you’re holding?”

“Just a little something special for you,” he says with a sweet-looking smile. “Here. Open it.”

Setting down xyrs book and taking the box, Logan opens it and is surprised by what was inside.

“Is— Is this a copy of my favorite Agatha Christie novel?” xe asks in astonishment as xe pulls out the copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. “I-I…I don’t even know what to say…”

“Maybe a thank you?” Virgil snickered.

Logan cleared xyrs throat, faintly blushing in embarrassment. “Y-Yes. Yes, I suppose— Uhm. Th-Thank you for this, Virgil. It is a very thoughtful gift coming from you.”

“Anything for my new spouse.” He gives him another pinch before taking his mug of coffee.

No more words were spoken between the two as they read from their respective novels. The only sounds made were the crackles of the fire and the occasional turn of a page.

Virgil couldn’t help but look to see how Logan was fairing. He watches with a hint of amusement as the novelist was more absorbed in this book than the last. He hadn’t even touched his tea yet!

Although he wanted to frown at that, he didn’t.

He knew better.

The time will come eventually.

What he did notice was that Logan read (or maybe skimmed?) the pages then lick at xyr fingers before flipping to the next one.

Virgil hid his victorious smile within his mug. He sprinkled the corners with that exact same powder he dumped into the tea, so at least xe were ingesting it. But it wasn’t enough to garner a true reaction out of xem just yet.

He goes back to his book, but still looked up at his spouse every now and again.

Things started to get interesting sometime after.

Logan let out a quiet grunt, which wouldn’t be a big deal had it not been for what Virgil had done to the book and tea. He watches as the novelist tries to play it off.

“You okay there, starshine? Got a headache or something?” He feigned concern, watching his second victim for any tell-tale signs that the poison was slowly taking effect. He then sees xem drinking xyr tea, hoping that would help ease his pains.

That only made things worse, however.

Logan began to cough, and again, it wouldn’t be something to worry about had it not been for the blood that appeared on his hand.

“Are you sure you’re alright, L? That was a pretty hard cough.” Virgil continued to fake his concerns.

Logan coughed again, waving him off. Xyr hands started to shake as xe brought xyr cup to xyr lips. “Y-Yes,” xe reassures. “I-I’m alright, Virgil.”

Xe think xyr fine. How adorable. Virgil had done his research; it takes about a half an hour for an eighth of a teaspoon to kill someone. He put in a little more than that, just for good measure.

Virgil kept staring at his spouse, watching every little thing that went on. It was intriguing, if he were to be honest.

Preoccupied with his dark thoughts, he didn’t realize Logan’s eye roll into the back of xyr head, and only became aware of his surroundings when he heard the thud of his spouse hitting the floor, a book falling right beside xyr body, and xyr glasses flying of xyr face.

With a smirk, the widower slid down to the floor, holding Logan’s head in his lap. He pets xyr hair, the very thing he remembered the novelist doing to him when he (pretended to) have anxiety and panic attacks. All the while he whispered quietly, knowing Logan would hear but wouldn’t respond to.

“Oh, Logan. My brilliant but naïve starshine. I think I forgot to tell you something. There might have been a little…surprise in both your tea and your book. Yep, a surprise. What was it, you might be asking? Well, if you hadn’t already deduced it— and I doubt you have— it was a bit of arsenic that I keep in my medicine cabinet.”

He chucked sinisterly while Logan seized in his arms, all the while, petting xem like xe were some sort of sick puppy.

“How does it feel, Mx. Oxford? To know that your death was caused by the two things that had meant the absolute world to you?”

Logan jerked violently, foam starting to slip past xyr lips. Virgil laughed.

“The minute I heard you come into my old bookstore, it seemed like a sense irony was on my side. And you were such an easy target too! All I had to do was debate with you, butter your ego up with flattery and you followed me like a schoolboy getting praise from a teacher.”

Virgil’s smirk grew wider, almost to where he was smiling.

“Too bad it wasn’t gonna last. Like I did with Roman— you’ve heard about him, haven’t you? The Scarlet Rose from my first marriage? — I had to get rid of you eventually. And now, I am.”

Logan’s body jerked violently again, foam now pouring out of xyr mouth and down xyr chin. Xe kept coughing, blood turning the foam pink and red in places where blood clots came out.

“Now, just sleep, Logan. Sleep and dream of those oh so wonderful constellations you kept ranting about to me~”

Suddenly, after Virgil’s last coo, the novelist stilled. The blood and foam slowly stopped leaking out of xyr mouth, but xe already drench the now two-time widower’s hands in red.

Virgil fished cleansing wipes out of his pocket and cleaned his hands as best he could. He knew he would have to get the peroxide out later. Right now? He was going to finish reading his book.

Allowing Logan’s head to thump to the carpet underneath, he stood up and simply sat back down in his leather chair, acting as if nothing had happened.

He flipped the page and chuckled at the short story he turned to.

Edgar Allan Poe’s “Murders in the Rue Morgue.”

Devilishly ironic.

Name: Logan Oxford November 03, 1954 - April 18, 1978 Cause of Death: Arsenic Poisoning Accidental Suicide

…

Patton felt tears burning his eyes once more as Logan finished his recollection. The novelist looked down at the floor, xyr hands were behind xyr back so the confectioner couldn’t see how they were shaking in slight rage.

He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t say anything. All he did was sniffle and wipe his tears.

“I was stupid to play it off as nothing,” Logan says, a cold anger slowly seeping into xyr voice. “I should’ve recognized the symptoms of arsenic poisoning.” Xe huffed something akin to a laugh. “It’s indescribable…watching your spouse place your head in his lap and pretend to comfort you in such a sickening way. All the while telling you it was his intention to kill you.”

First with Roman, and now Logan?… He still can’t imagine it, it all sounded so horrible.

Suddenly, something that the novelist said resurfaced in his mind.

“Wait,” he says with a small crack in his voice. “Did you say…Virgil worked in that bookstore?!”

Logan nodded. “That’s what I hypothesized from his words. He didn’t seem all that comfortable with being there the first time we had met, last I recall.” Xe tell him. “While it is not a lot of evidence, there is no way he wouldn’t say that to me— as I was dying, mind you— if it wasn’t anything but the truth.”

All of this was changing everything for Patton.

Virgil originally worked in a bookstore? He lied to him from the first moment they met? His heart was slowly breaking. If this was just one thing Virgil lied about, then how many more lies did he tell him? And, most importantly, how many of them did he fall for?

“I’m not one to beg,” the novelist tells him. Xe looked at him with a small hint of desperation in xyr dark blue eyes. “But you must leave this place at once, Patton. We are warning you because we do not want another person to fall prey to Virgil’s inhumanity.”

Patton was surprised by how tiny his voice became.

“Logan—”

“I’ll have you know that we are not saying this to scare you,” Logan’s eyes sharpened, causing the confectioner to coil back in surprise. “We all have been flattered by his smooth praises, compliments, and other methods of blandishment. He made us feel good, made us feel more appreciated than how we were before we fell into his hands.”

The novelist’s shoulders slumped and now xe were looking at him tiredly. Xe were tired. Tired of all the emotions xe had suppressed while xe were alive. Now, they were finally breaching up to the surface.

“Listen to me, Patton. There is much more to your life than just having Virgil in it. You have accomplished so much before you met him, and you will be able to gain so much more if you leave.” Xe explain. “Love makes people do extremely irrational things. It makes them pull stupid actions, and this, is one of them. So please, heed our warning and escape this manor. Escape Virgil.”

“…I promise.” Patton says in a whisper, another one that had a lie burning underneath it.

Feeling satisfied, Logan nods and fades away. The fireplace flickers out the second xe vanished.

Two stories down and only one remains.

With a sigh, Patton leaves the library with a gentle shut of the doors (or as gentle as double-doors can close). He curled forward as he rested against them.

His mind was swimming with emotions, primarily those on the negative end of the spectrum. And despite the deep (very deep) desire to run and never look back, he still didn’t have it within him to do that just yet. He needed to know who the one in the suit was, what role did they play as Virgil’s last husband (or spouse), and how did the two-time widower destroy him too.

So, Patton forced himself to straighten up and made his way to the back of the manor.

Light shined from the glass door of the conservatory, sending him a small amount of comfort as he stopped in front of the walnut door. He looked up and down it, observing the serpentine engravings marked on it. Then, his gaze settled on the cobra-looking door handle.

After inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, he inserts the key and moved his wrist. It finally clicked open after a few minutes of jimmying with it. Feeling emboldened, he pulls the door back and walks inside.

It was an office, he realizes. A simple, yet fancy looking office.

The carpeted floor was a dark green as opposed to the dark blue ones in the library, and instead of silver embroidery, it was detailed in gold. The desk was mahogany wood and in front of it, were two black leathered seats.

A file cabinet rested against the wall right of the desk, and a glass tank (maybe for fish? reptiles?) rested left of it. A bar was to the left of the door, no alcohol was stocked on the shelves, aside from a crystal platter holding cups for vials of stock and whisky.

Behind the desk was a beautiful, ornate glass window that shined moonlight thanks to the parted dark green and gold curtains. Photographs hung in various places on the walls, many of them were newspaper headlines — headlines of famous court cases, many of them won.

Patton closes the door.

“My, my.” A deep, silky voice rings in the air. “It amazes me how an innocent little lamb continues to wander far from the comforts of Eden.” The confectioner shivers at the sound. “But I wouldn’t want to be a lost sheep forever. One must return to God soon, or he shall be slaughtered by the wicked Devil himself.”

Patton looks around to see where the voice was coming from, but he couldn’t find anyone. Then the leather chair slowly swivels around to face him.

The person sitting in it? Was the one in the third portrait.

The one in the suit.

“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Hart.”

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Moxiety #Analogical #Anxceit #death tw #blood tw #poison tw #Of Love & Murder

3 notes · View notes

bngtanah · 5 years ago

Text

The Difference Between Boys & Girls | o2

summary: Sam & Erin are university students who share a cheap one bedroom apartment above a shitty takeaway restaurant. Due to the limited space, they’ve grown accustomed to sharing just about everything, including the occasional kiss. Despite the amount of time they spend together, their complete comfort in sharing a bed, etc, the pair continues to hold on to the idea that they are completely “platonic.” None of their friends believe this excuse, but as ridiculous as it sounds the unconventional living situation truly does seem to work for them.

Well, it used to anyway..

pairing: Jung Hoseok (Samuel Park) x Named OC characters: meet the cast.

genre: angst, smut, fluff

chapters: o1| o2| o3| o4| o5| o6| o7| o8| o9| 10| 11| 12| 13| 14

warning: boyfriend!hoseok, jealous!hoseok, friends to lovers trope, college au, angst, sexual themes, slow burn, ambw

a/n: i am a fool. I accidentally deleted my blog so this is me re-uploading EVERYTHING.

With her body wrapped in a dress that stopped just a couple inches below her ass, bare shoulders and a sheer cutout in the front Sam was having a hard time keeping his eyes from travelling along the contours of Erin's body.

Originally she planned on wearing just a pair of jeans and a cute top, thus ensuring that she would attract the least amount of attention when they reached their destination. That all changed when Samuel decided he was going to tag along, she didn't mind all eyes being on her as long as he was by her side.

And of course, the surge of confidence she felt after having caught Sam's eyes widen and his mouth drop open slightly when she stepped out of the bedroom may have had something to do with it also. He had managed to settle his features and avert his gaze once Erin joined him for their obligatory pregame shot in the kitchen, making sure to keep his distance like he was drinking with his baby sister and not some woman he'd leer at in a dim nightclub.

His reaction only made Erin stifled a giggle after she allowed the alcohol to ease down her throat. He could play it cool all he wanted, Erin knew she had ruffled his feathers and that alone was almost enough to make their whole night worth it before it even began.

"Aren't you, like...cold? In that dress?" Samuel asked, uttering his first full sentence since they'd left the apartment.

Erin only shook her head and made a small noise to demonstrate her disagreeing.

Samuel scoffed and moved closer as they walked in stride, he knew better than to believe her when she was obviously freezing. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side, the pad of his thumb drumming lightly against her hip. "Like hell you're not."

The touch burned through the flimsy layer of cloth and Erin was sure her cheeks would be flushed if she had any less melanin in her skin.

She couldn't allow her mind to read too much into his actions, however. As far as she knew Samuel had always been a very hands-on kind of guy. If he liked you, you knew because he'd find any excuse in the book to touch you. But there was also the side of his personality that just radiated affection when he was comfortable, the occasional hand grab, hug, caress usually mean nothing more to him than simply being friendly.

Sammy just liked human contact and sometimes it honestly drove Erin nuts.

"I think we're almost there" Erin commented as she glanced down at her cell phone, rereading the address Kim sent her a few hours earlier. "It should be on the left after this intersection."

"This doesn't really look like a good location for a bar" Sam noted as he glanced around their surroundings.

The streets were considerably empty for a Friday night and the few people they did see shuffling around looked like they were auditioning for part in Rent. Definitely not the young hip crowd either of them had been expecting.

Five minutes, and one wrong turn later they figured out exactly why the area seemed so dead.

The 'fun night out' Erin had been invited to turned out to be a gallery showing for a few unknown local artists. The air of excitement deflated the second Erin and Sam entered the building.

Kim was there at the entrance, craning her head back and forth and when she spotted Erin she beamed, and waved wildly. The second she did a quick scan of Erin's attire and noticed the handsome young man attached to her hip, her smile dulled considerably.

"Unnie! You remember my roommate, Samuel?"

Kim extended a hand, a smile way too broad to be genuine plastered on her lips. "Of course! It's a pleasure to see you again."

She was clearly lying since her nostrils were a bit too flared to be sincere. That didn't stop Sammy from grinning widely and taking her hand, bowing slightly to press his lips lightly to the back of her palm. "The pleasure is all mine."

Erin rolled her eyes gently and quirked her eyebrow in his direction, he winked at her and stood up straight again.

"Right. Well Erin I thought the friend you mentioned bringing along was a girl? Since this is a supposed to be a girl's night out."

And you said we would be going out for a drink, I guess we're both liars huh? Erin thought to herself.

"I know, but she couldn't make it and Sammy decided to volunteer to take her place. He might as well be a girl; you'll hardly notice the difference I promise."

Kim looked skeptical. Like she wanted to push the issue further but decided against it. "Alright he can stay but he has to participate like the rest of us."

"Participate, in what?" Sam asked.

"The post night discussion of course!" Kim answered, with more excitement than necessary as she reached down into her purse and dug out a notebook and pen for each of them. "We're all going to take notes on our favourite pieces and discuss them after the viewing, fun right?"

Erin braved a smile since she was used to Kim's concept of fun. Sam, on the other hand, refused to believe that she was serious as he erupted into a fit of laughter. Erin dug her elbow into his side and gave Kim a look of reassurance, "He has a weird sense of humour, we’re going to love this."

Kim nodded slowly and readjusted the strap of her purse "Okay, if you need anything just find me I'll be around" She began backing away "Oh and the drinks are free if you want one" The petite girl added before turning and disappearing into the shallow crowd.

"Homework, E. Seriously?" Sam began complaining not two seconds after Kim was no longer within earshot.

"What happened to Mr. Positive? The drinks are free that's something, right?"

"It's the only reason I'm still standing here"

"Oh come on, you wouldn't abandon your noona. Especially after you asked to tag along" Erin chuckled as she clipped the pen onto the side of her notebook.

"That's because I thought we would be drinking, not analyzing crappy art"

"Listen, I don't wanna do this anymore than you do. I'm way overdressed and I don't even like art. But at least we're here together and we've already been spotted so it's too early to bail anyway. If you want to continue grumbling I won't stop you but grumble on the way to the bar to get us some drinks."

Sam parted his lips to argue, but the resolve in Erin's eye made him second guess that. They could literally argue all night over this and he wasn't about to upset her when she looked that nice. "You're right," He sighed "You want your usual?"

"Yes please," Erin beamed and leaned upward to peck his cheek before he sauntered away in the direction of the bar with a dopey smile.

Suddenly very aware of the fact that she was standing in the middle of the floor alone, Erin quickly moved towards the nearest display of art. She pulled the pen from her notepad and pretended to be interested in the large canvas splattered with various lines and squiggles. Erin was never very appreciative of art even when she could understand the concept.

"Oh my god, this looks like a goddamn finger painting" She muttered underneath her breath.

A bellow of male laughter tickled Erin's ears from behind and almost made her jump out of her skin. She turned and came face to face with an unfamiliar person. His rounded cheeks made him seem young, much too young to be mixed in with this crowd but once Erin allowed her eyes to drift further down from his face she determined that he was probably in her age bracket. His hair was parted through the middle and pushed away from his face, colored a shade that Erin could only describe as neon tangerine and he wore a smile on his face that made the room seem ten shades brighter. He was tall but only by comparison to Erin, he was still a few inches shorter than Sammy so that brought him right to her eye level.

"Sorry, I didn't realise I was talking out loud," Erin said softly, accompanying her words with a slight bow.

"Don't be, you're not lying" He answered, still trying to stop himself from laughing "I'm Brian by the way."

"Erin"

Brian bit into his lip once his laughter subsided and subtly felt Erin up with his eyes. She pretended not to notice and returned her attention to the painting.

"So I guess art isn't really your thing either?"

"I love it actually, but the use of color and composition here is just lazy and uninspired." Brian commented and took a step closer, he was close enough for Erin to catch the scent of his cologne and a tiny shudder ran down the base of her spine. It was small but significant considering the only man that made her feel that way lately was Sammy. "Look at this area right here" He gestured to the far left side of the canvas "To the untrained eye it would probably look like a deliberate splatter of red paint to represent anguish, but I know that this artist just stepped on a tube and left the mark there."

"Mhm.... wait can you repeat that first thing again," Erin said, quickly putting her pen against the notebook and writing down the gist of what his.

"Are you a journalist?" Brian asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"University student, this is just for my.... study group. How do you know so much about this?"

"Because it's my painting and it only took me about five minutes to finish" Brian grinned and turned to face Erin. He was inches away and the coy smile that spread across his lips when their eyes connected made her chortle. Brian wet his bottom lip with his tongue which inadvertently drew Erin's attention there before the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them broke up the staring contest.

"Uh. The line was long, here's your drink. Who is this?" Sammy asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Erin smiled and took the tumbler of liquid from Samuel "This is Brian, we're making fun of his terrible art. Brian, this is my roommate; Sammy"

Both men nodded toward each other, exchanging a polite handshake before turning their attention back to Erin. Samuel was the first to speak.

"Listen do you really want to stay here all night? The drinks are watered down and I know how much you hate this art crap"

Erin shrugged gently but made a sour face the second she took a sip of her drink, it tasted like cranberry juice mixed with tap water, not vodka.

"Oh gross, let's get out of here before Kim finds me again," She said resting her cup on the nearest flat surface. She was all prepared to sprint out the nearest exit when a hand gently grabbed her upper arm and stopped her in her tracks.

"If you're going to leave can I see your phone before you go?" Brian asked, flirtatious smile still present.

"Why do you need to see my phone?"

"So I can put my number into it"

"Wow, you are subtle!" Erin laughed, taking a second to think of a response. "Ah, what the hell" She sighed and pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it and handed it over.

"Oh, what's this? It looks like you're accidentally calling me, that's weird. I guess I'll just have to save your number in my phone as well" Brian mused as his fingers moved over the keypad.

The entire interaction made Sam's lips fall into a flat, disapproving line while Erin giggled like it was the most amusing thing she'd ever seen.

"I hope to see you around sometime, Erin" Brian waved while she and Samuel headed toward the entrance.

"You too"

Instead of going home like Erin thought they would be, she and Samuel ended up at a bar a few blocks down from the warehouse where the gallery viewing was. Kim and all the members of her study group called multiple times but Erin stopped feeling bad about not picking after the first few shots.

Somehow one hour turned into to two and both Sam and Erin were tipsy to say the least they burst out onto the sidewalk, laughing at jokes neither of them were saying out loud.

"Do you know what we should do right now?" Sammy said excitedly, his hands holding onto Erin's shoulders.

"What?"

"Go watch the stars! Like we used to in school... I'm pretty sure there's a park somewhere around here" He muttered to himself but propelled forward anyway, dragging Erin along with him. She allowed him to pull her along as he tried to gain his bearings, she wasn't really ready to go home yet either.

After some trial and error, they managed to find the "park", which was actually just a patch of grass and a small hill but who was complaining?

Sammy motioned for Erin to sit next and she scrunched her nose upward "I don't want my dress to get dirty I'll stand, it's okay."

"Here," He sighed, pulling the jacket he was wearing off his shoulders and laying it down over the grass. "Better princess?"

"Much" Erin grinned as she moved to sit, exhaling a deep breath once she was settled and Sammy's arm found its way behind her. "I can't remember the last time we did this," She said after a beat, glancing up at the illuminated night sky.

"I do. It was the night of my graduation, you rode the bus all the way from Seoul to Daegu just to be there for my ceremony and stayed up with me to watch the stars even though you had a class the next morning." Sammy recalled with fondness in his voice.

"I remember that you begged me for like two hours to sneak out to the beach with you. Then when we actually got there you couldn't stop freaking out about being caught."

"My mother is a very perceptive woman; I still think she noticed me leaving in her sleep!" Sammy retorted and both of them exploded with laughter.

"You made a promise that night too, do you remember that?"

Sam nodded with a smile but didn't saying anything.

"You're just going to make me repeat it by myself?"

"You look so cute when you say it noona"

Erin rolled her eyes, but cleared her throat anyway "I- state your name-"

"Sang-min 'Samuel' Park!"

"-So solemnly swear to live my life to fullest degree of potential and happiness possible from this moment on, recognising that I am no longer a child, but that doesn't I have to turn into a cynical old man. All agreed say aye." Erin was hardly able to finish talking before she gave into the laughter.

"Aye!" Sammy repeated in a squeaky voice and joined Erin in a chorus of giggles and guffaws.

A moment of comfortable silence passed over them once the laughter died down and Erin sighed again, snuggling closer to Sam and leaning backwards on her elbows. "You think you kept your promise? Are you happy, Sam?"

He frowned for a second and shrugged "I'm alright, I've still got you with me so that's good enough for me." He said softly, reaching forward to brush a stray hair out of Erin's eyes and tuck it behind her ear. The tips of his fingers slowly trailed along her jawline as if he was touching her for the first time. When he cupped her jaw in one hand and pulled her face closer his Erin found herself letting him do so.

They had kissed before, games of spin the bottle at high school parties and a few times after having a couple drinks at home. But those could be explained away by a momentary lapse in judgement and raging underdeveloped hormones. This was a deliberate action and Samuel made sure to move at a slow pace to give Erin enough to time to back out if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

"You looked so good tonight, noona" Sam whispered against the shell of Erin's ear, the bridge of his nose nuzzled against the hollow of Erins cheek and the warmth of his breath fanned over her skin causing heat to spread all over her body. Her breathing grew shallow and her eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, just as his lips barely brushed against her own a loud blaring noise shattered their fairy tale and made them both jump backwards.

"Oh shit, I think that's my phone. Sorry" Erin fumbled around with the clutch in her hands before pulling out her cell phone and preparing to curse out whoever had the misfortune of calling her at that exact moment.

"Hello?" Erin barked into the receiver.

"I- I'm sorry is this not a good time? Were you sleeping?" Brian’s gentle voice momentarily disarmed Erin's annoyance and she shook her head.

"Oh Brian is that you? No... I'm actually not even home yet, Sammy and I stopped for a drink before going home"

"O-oh okay," Brian replied softly, taking a second to think before speaking again "Well maybe you can text me when you home just so I know you're safe."

"I can do that" Erin answered, trying her best to smile even though she noticed the sudden change in Sam's posture, going from relaxed to rigid the second Erin answered the phone. He stood up after she hung up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. After she was standing he leaned down to pick up his jacket and dusted it off before placing it around Erin's shoulders.

"I should get you home."

#jung hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok scenarios #hobi x oc #bts scenarios #j hope fanfic #j hope smut #dbbg #bngtanah

2 notes · View notes

isitgintimeyet · 6 years ago

Text

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Thanks for reading so far. Hope you enjoy this shorter (sorry) chapter.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support

Chapter 27: A Thankful Hogmanay

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne

Robert Burns

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed three. A medley of creaks and rumbles echoed around as the house settled down for the night, its occupants all finally retired, worn out after the Hogmanay festivities which had carried on until the wee small hours.

Jamie lay peacefully asleep on his back, exhausted from the evening’s celebrations and the enthusiastic lovemaking that followed. A brief post orgasm cuddle and Jamie had swiftly descended into a deep slumber, not quite snoring, but emitting a definite wheeze with each exhale.

Claire sometimes envied the way that men could switch off so completely after sex. The race to the finish and that desired explosion, then collapse and coma. But for Claire, though she felt satisfied and content, sleep never came that easily. Not that she minded tonight. It was a chance for quiet reflection on the past week.

A snore next to her made Claire giggle to herself. Jamie would never believe that he occasionally snored, but all things considered that wasn’t a bad fault. There were worse, obviously. Claire pulled a face in the darkness, determined not to dwell on that. It had been quite a Geneva-free week… just the three texts on Christmas Day, a reminder about her party mid week and the three missed calls after midnight tonight.

Claire settled herself into Jamie’s warmth, shuffling her bottom up against his hip and pulling her cold feet up to his calf. He gave a slight groan of complaint and then resumed his loud, regular breathing.

With these Hogmanay celebrations, Claire was in a place she could never have imagined twelve months before - not just here at Lallybroch, but in her relationship with Jamie and the feeling of family and home. Claire had spent last New Year’s Eve at home alone (ignoring all invitations and hospitality), wondering whether she had made a mistake in not moving to Oxford with Frank and seriously contemplating trying to rekindle their relationship. Indeed, it was only a well-timed phone call from Geillis that had prevented her from reaching out to Frank in that lonely predawn darkness.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of her friend’s fortuitous intervention. The past seven months with Jamie had been wonderful, if somewhat complicated, culminating in this holiday week. She had a lot to be thankful for.

Claire remembered, many years ago, being told to count her blessings if she couldn’t sleep. As a child she had found this difficult to do. Tonight, however, she had a plethora of Christmas memories ready to be counted as blessings.

The trip had been magical from the start. As they drove north, the snow had begun to appear. At first, a slight dusting of icing sugar on the top of the hills, then, as the mountains came into view, the snow had covered the slopes, brilliant white against the clear blue sky, a perfect crisp winter's day. By the time they had reached Lallybroch, the snow lay all around, softening the hardness of the stone building.

With Jenny, Ian and the children already there, it had been a noisy Christmas Eve, but so full of warmth and affection. The house had been carefully decorated. Garlands and wreaths of fresh greenery and berries on every mantelpiece and door added to the wonderful aromas throughout. The turkey was sitting in a large bucket of brine with oranges and Christmas spices in the utility room, ready for the next day. There seemed to be an endless supply of Mrs. Crook’s mouthwatering mince pies and fruit cake. Claire could not remember celebrating a family Christmas, and so all these experiences, all these traditions, were new to her.

Wee Jamie had been practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing from adult to adult, chattering animatedly. His sudden worry that Santa wouldn’t know where he was staying (and Maggie too, Murtagh had reminded) or would be scared by the thought of the real fires in the hearths had been quickly assuaged by a note (in bold, black permanent marker) attached to the front door, giving Santa and his reindeer very clear directions.

Later on, Jamie, Claire, Brian and Murtagh had gone to Midnight Mass at the local church to enjoy a moment of peace and quiet amidst the flurry of festive activity before returning to Lallybroch for mulled wine laced with Amaretto and eventually bed.

Christmas Day itself had been more than Claire could have ever imagined. Even though early morning foreplay had been rudely interrupted by loud knocking on their door (‘Unca, Care Bear, c’mon. Mam says Santa’s been’), it was worth it to see the look on Wee Jamie’s face as he first glimpsed the presents under the tree and then noticed the empty sherry glass, mince pie crumbs and half-eaten carrot. Closer inspection might have revealed that the tooth marks were less reindeer and more Jamie, but his nephew was too wrapped up in the magic to consider the details.

To Claire’s amazement, there had been a pile of presents labelled for her. She felt as giddy as a child as she tore off paper to reveal an assortment of treasures from Jamie’s family and Jamie himself... perfume, stationery, snuggly knitwear, CDs … Jamie’s final gift was a platinum necklace, delicate and discreet, two intertwining hearts on a chain, their intersection marked with a diamond. As he fastened it around her neck, he had whispered his promise for the future into her ear.

But, for Claire, it had also been a time for giving. The hours spent deliberating over what to buy for the family had all been worth it as she shared their delight when they opened their gifts from her - from Maggie’s drooling grin as the teething necklace was put to immediate use, to Murtagh’s hug as he tried his new tweed cap on - and Jamie’s genuine pleasure as he unwrapped his presents… CDs, rugby DVDs, a beginners’ cookbook, a shirt ( not of expensive linen, but certainly to be valued more highly), and a watch engraved with their initials on the back.

Everyone had joined in with the Christmas jumper competition, although Jamie had discretely informed Claire that Murtagh had worn the same sweater for the past fifteen years. Jamie’s jumper bore the slightly wonky image of the ugliest snowman Claire had ever seen, whilst she herself had a somewhat over the top image of Santa on a sparkly unicorn. The winner, announced with much formality by Brian, was Wee Jamie with a bright green Tyrannosaurus rex wearing a Santa hat emblazoned on the front of his jumper. Claire suspected this competition might have been rigged, as the prize, joyfully received, had been a golden medal and a Spider-Man chocolate selection box.

The rest of Christmas Day had passed in a whirlwind of activity and fun. Mrs Crook had joined them for lunch and to supervise its preparation. Everyone had been assigned their role - Jamie’s having been to pour the drinks and stay away from the cooking.

The food had been superb. Served in the formal dining room, everyone had stuffed themselves, then had wrapped up and headed outside to walk it all off in the snow while it was still daylight.

The evening had been the time for games, although none too mentally taxing, while they nibbled on cheese and Christmas cake before finally retiring to bed, too full and too tired for anything more energetic than a cuddle.

And now, once more in the predawn darkness of New Year’s day, Claire snuggled further into the warmth of Jamie.

He turned onto his side, spooning her and muttered sleepily into her ear. “Are ye no tired, Sassenach? Yer thinkin’ so hard it woke me up. What’s amiss?”

She pulled his hand round to cup her breast and rested her hand on top of his. “Nothing amiss, just thankful for this holiday and your family…”

“Is that all?”

Claire felt his breath warm on her neck. “And you, James Fraser, I’m thankful for you.”

“Even wi’ everything I’ve put ye through?”

Claire’s curls tickled his face as she nodded in agreement. “Even with all that. And even with everything I know will be coming for us this year.”

Jamie pulled her even closer to him. “And I’m sae glad ye’re mine, Sassenach. I love ye, truly.”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #the ties that bind #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 27

63 notes · View notes

uozlulu · 7 years ago

Text

I remembered why the wheelchair but forgot the wheelchair so I'm going to put what I wrote over here just in case I need something from it that I rewrite or something and then rework it to accommodate the wheelchair. Also I worked hard on it so might as well put it somewhere idek.

Anyway, here's some of that AU ending fic I was working on. Manga spoilers obviously because you can guess some parts of the ending given the scenario below.

As a note since this is a first draft, it’s a bit sloppy, hasn’t been reworked, and I likely would have gone through and added a bit here and there before doing the flesh out read through check stuff I do before posting. First drafts are always kind of a get it on the page asap mode thing for me.

Ash should turn back, but he didn’t. He went through security, through customs, through everything that stood between him and the plane. He slid up to the college girl welcoming people onto the flight and with some well placed words, he got on the plane. He worked his way to the economy class and saw Ibe first, holding the man’s gaze a long moment before making his way to the row and sliding into the aisle seat of the same row.

Eiji did not notice. He stared through the window, barely registering the bustle of the ground crew outside. A plane nearby began to taxi away from its gate.

“Hey,” Ash said.

Eiji jumped and looked over at Ash. “You –!” Eiji said. “Ash!”

“Hey, not so loud,” Ash said.

“Did Sing give you the note?” Eiji asked.

“Note? No,” Ash said. He ran a hand through his hair. He leaned towards the back of the seat in front of him so he could see around Ibe to Eiji.

Eiji leaned towards the seats in front of them as well. “Why?” Eiji asked. Why what exactly he was not sure. There were so many whys.

“I…” Ash’s voice trailed a moment. He rushed to the airport at the last minute. He had not expected to make it this far. He was not sure when the person meant for this seat might come. The stream of people passing through the aisles began to taper.

“I bought you a ticket,” Eiji said. “Come with me. Stay with me.”

Ash held Eiji’s gaze, his heart in his ears. “I can’t make any promises,” he said.

“I know,” Eiji said, “but I have mine.”

“Forever,” Ash murmured.

“Yes,” Eiji said.

They grew silent. Ibe took a small breath. “I will trade you seats before we take off,” he said.

After some shuffling, Eiji gave Ash the window seat and took the middle seat. Ibe settled into the aisle seat just in time for the stewardess to come by and make sure everything was in order for the plane to leave. The stewards began securing the cabin and imparting important information in case of an emergency. The stewards disappeared and the plane taxied down the runway. With great speed and tremendous thrust, the plane launched itself into the air.

Ash gripped the armrest tightly. His heart stayed in his stomach even after the plane stopped climbing. He had officially left. He vowed never to return.

It felt like a dream. Eiji half expected to hit a pocket of turbulence and jostle awake only to find Ash nowhere on the plane. Instead, Eiji woke when Ash’s shoulder moved out from under his head abruptly.

Ash leaned forward and put his hands over his ears. His back heaved with the effort to breathe.

Eiji’s hand hovered near Ash’s arm and then he moved his hand away. He waited and glanced at those around them on the plane. Everyone seemed to be sleeping including Ibe and those that were not had music and other things to keep them occupied.

“Ash,” Eiji said as quietly as possible, not sure if Ash would hear him. “Ash,” he said a little firmer.

Ash removed his hands from his ears. He sat up, almost smacking his head into Eiji’s head. He looked around and his shoulders stopped shaking with each breath. He looked at Eiji.

“A dream?” Eiji asked.

“Sure,” Ash said. “How much longer?” He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his face.

“Four hours,” Eiji said after glancing at his watch.

They did not speak for a long time. Then Ash asked almost too quiet for Eiji to hear, “This is real, right?”

“Yes,” Eiji said just as quietly. He touched Ash’s hand slowly, one finger, two fingers, three fingers, four fingers, and then he took Ash’s hand and squeezed it when Ash did not pull away.

There were a lot of ways Ibe thought this might go when Eiji said he bought a ticket for Ash just in case and left a note with Sing. Third wheeling it through the Beijing Capital International Airport for four hours had not crossed his mind. He gave them space but stayed close enough they would all be aware of anything that happened to each other.

Ash and Eiji sat near the windows watching the planes outside. They said nothing but seemed to sit almost in the same space without touching. Ibe sighed and touched his bag out of habit to make sure it was still with him. He had been friends with Eiji’s parents since long before Eiji was born. They trusted him with their child and so many things happened. Sometimes he thought that letting Eiji stay when they could have gone home after the first incident was a mistake. A few weeks turned into months far too quickly. Ibe still was not sure how they managed to stretch their visas so thin.

Ibe felt Ash sit one seat away more than saw it. Ibe could see Eiji heading off towards food and other amenities. Words rolled through Ibe’s mind. Part of him wanted Ash to promise that the instant any of this followed him to Japan, Ash would leave before Eiji could get caught back up in it. However, Ibe knew that Eiji was likely too caught up in it already and Eiji would not let Ash suffer in Japan.

Ibe saw Ash leave the area and Eiji leave in another direction amicably. Ibe sighed and looked down at his hands. He thought about Eiji’s parents. They entrusted their son him and he was not sure what they would say. He was not sure how to explain any of this. He sent postcards occasionally and on New Years there was a phone call. While he knew a lot of this was Eiji’s to tell, he also knew that he was responsible for not leaving sooner.

“I have tea,” Eiji said, reappearing. He had three cups balanced carefully in his arms. He handed one to Ibe and looked around for Ash who had not returned yet.

“Ei-chan,” Ibe said. He thought his words over. He did not want to sound accusatory or accidentally start a fight. “I worry about this,” he said in Japanese. “For you. For him. What will happen when we get to Japan? What will you do if things don’t go as you hope?”

Eiji did not look away from Ibe. “I don’t know what will happen,” he said in Japanese. “I told Ash I would wait for him, that I would be by his side forever and I meant it. I still meant it.”

Ibe watched Eiji’s brow furrow and his posture straighten. Ibe remembered killing time with Eiji in the Beijing Capital Airport on the way to New York. How Eiji stood as though his injury still hurt, how his eyes seemed to look through rather than at the bustle of the workers outside. “You must follow your heart then,” Ibe said. That was what got both them into all of this back in New York, but somehow they survived.

“I follow my head too,” Eiji said. He sat by Ibe. “I knew Ash might not come with us, that it was his choice. I hope Japan it’s too boring or too different. I hope he doesn’t regret choosing this.” Eiji glanced in the direction Ash went. He wondered if Ash would return before the tea became cold.

Ash meanwhile stood near the departure signs but out of the way. He put his hands in his pockets and let out a silent long breath. This felt like the most selfish choice he made in his entire life. He knew Eiji would open his home, his heart even, to Ash without question. He doubted he had any right to it. He wondered if he should have just stayed in New York. Ash’s eyes roamed the cities on the board. He could still go anywhere. He could free Eiji from all the consequences that might come with his presence.

Ash could remember the slower days alone in the apartment. When they were alone and Eiji played with the camera he brought from Japan for tourism purposes. He thought about Eiji’s laughter when they donned bedsheets like togas and made dramatic poses with various household props. He thought about the nights when the rain fell and they spoke to each other in hushed tones, how the space between their beds seemed smaller and the room warmer. Ash thought about how Eiji would open his arms, take a step forward, and if Ash did not step away, Eiji would wrap his arms around him. Eiji’s hair would tickle his face and sometimes Ash found him wrapping his arms back around Eiji.

Ash’s heart ached. Eiji never expected things from him like everyone else in his life had, but Ash did not know if he had anything to give. This was his chance to leave New York, this was his chance to never be used ever again. He wanted to be free. He also wanted Eiji by his side without looking over their shoulders or staring at every shadow.

Ash knew once he went back to Eiji and Ibe he would get on the plane with them and he would go to Japan. Ash did not know what would happen once Eiji was around everything that made him who he was when they first met. Ash did not know what he would do with himself either. Would he get a job? What job? He probably needed to learn Japanese beyond the handful of phrases and words Eiji managed to teach him over their time together. The more he thought, the longer the list of things to do and things that could go wrong seemed to grow. He took a deep breath.

Ash licked his lips and then ran a hand through his hair. He headed back towards the gate. He stopped once Eiji came into view. Eiji’s face brightened and he held up the tea in his hands. Ash sighed quietly and walked over, taking one of the cups from Eiji. “Thanks,” he said.

“You too,” Eiji said. “Thanks for returning.”

Ash held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded. He hoped if they did come to regret this that it would not end in dead bodies.

The plane ride to Japan was significantly shorter and after changing planes again they arrived at Izumo in the evening, which was morning back at New York. It was already dark outside. Izumo was smaller than many American cities but still large. It was along the southwest coast of Japan The city was both ancient and modern and contained the oldest Shinto shrine in Japan.

Eiji and Ibe grabbed their bags and Ash put his hands in his pockets. They exited the plane. Ash touched his hand to his waistband and froze. His gun was not there. He knew it would not be. He had dumped it in a trashcan on his way into the airport, but he felt like it should still be there. He followed Eiji into the aisle and bit his tongue. The person behind him kept walking into him. He took a long, slow breath through his nose.

Once they were in the terminal Ash found a place to stick himself with at least a person’s width between him and those nearby. He put his hands in his pockets, eyes moving about the crowds. He recognized no one, but everyone looked at him. He was not the only white person in the airport but his height, age, and hair set him apart from the rest.

Two women waved enthusiastically and then they were on Eiji immediately, asking him questions in fast Japanese. Eiji’s sister had the same fly away hair as Eiji but longer and their mother was shorter than both her children. Eiji at first spoke in a calm voice, but it became thinner and he teared up. Ash looked away.

“Shinichi,” Eiji’s mother said and seemed to thank Ibe for taking good care of Eiji and bringing him back in one piece in Japanese. Or at least that was what it looked like.

“You need to tell us his name,” Eiji’s sister said. She had her arm linked with Eiji’s and she smiled at Ash excitedly.

“Oh…ah…I’ve been rude,” Eiji said in English. Their little group looked at him. Eiji slipped away from his sister to stand by Ash. “This is Ash. He is,” a pause, “my friend.

“This is my mom and my sister,” Eiji told Ash.

Ash nodded. “Hi,” he said. He was not sure if he was supposed to shake their hands or bow. “Sorry for intruding,” he said.

Eiji’s mother walked over and offered her hand. “It is nice to meet you,” she said. “I am Okumura. You do not intrude. You are Eiji’s friend.” She shook Ash’s hand with a firm but gentle grip. “Thank you for helping my son,” she said.

A few responses filtered through Ash’s head but he decided to go with, “You’re welcome,” not sure if any of them fit the situation.

Eiji’s sister was Hatsuko. She shook Ash’s hand and thanked him for helping Eiji too. The conversation kept getting split between Japanese and English. Ash remained quiet and followed them out of the airport. They said goodbye to Ibe who took was heading in the opposite direction home.

The train was crowded. Ash gripped the pole in front of him tight, his knuckles becoming whiter as everyone pressed in. He felt eyes constantly watching him.

“Are you okay?” Eiji asked quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ash said.

Once they left the train station they got on a bus. The bus left them off at the local mall and it was a long walk to The Okumura home. Mrs. Okumura led the way, taking the time to talk with Eiji now that they were away from the crowds. The streets were narrow and went one way and there were no sidewalks. Similar looking houses lined the streets with some gaps of grass in-between sections of houses. Ash stayed at the rear of the group. The longer they walked the more residential the buildings became. All of the houses in the area were very modest. There was no sign of threat.

Hatsuko fell in step with Ash after a while. She thought a long moment and then she said, “Our mom is not a rude person. She missed Eiji very much.”

“It’s okay,” Ash said. He preferred the focus be on Eiji.

“Are you a college student?” Hatsuko asked.

“I could be,” Ash said.

“My brother has good taste,” Hatsuko said. “You’re as cute as I suspected.”

Ash glanced at her. She was smiling. He remembered Eiji mentioned if they ever went to Japan his sister’s friends would probably gush.

“That way leads to the river,” she said as they passed by road.

“Thanks,” he said.

Hatsuko studied him a moment and then looked up at the sky. “Home is near,” she said.

The Okumura residence looked like any other house on the block. It was two stories and had a gate in the front. When they entered the house, shoes came off and slippers went on. There some large slippers for guests that fit Ash’s feet. Eiji’s father and Ibe went abroad in university and sometimes their friends would visit. Eiji’s father was out of the country for business, but would be back in a week.

While Eiji’s mother and sister headed deeper into the house to start getting supper together, Eiji put their coats away and lead Ash upstairs. Eiji’s bedroom was clean and neatly kept with a desk and bed on one side of the room and a bookshelf on the other near the closet. Eiji set his bags near his bedside and looked around. The bookshelf was full of study aids, novels, photography books, and manga. On top of the bookshelf were several trophies that his mother must have gotten up on a chair to keep clean all this time. Stacks of tapes sat neatly on one side of the desk and his radio sat on the other. There was a small record collection near the far back leg of the desk. It was a boy’s room. It was like someone else’s room.

Eiji realized he was standing in the way and blinked. “Sorry,” he said and moved deeper into the room. He opened the closet and looked inside. “I know it is awkward. Sorry. I do not know what Ibe-san told them.”

“I did invite myself,” Ash said. He put his hands in his pockets and moved towards the desk. He scanned the spines of the cassette cases. They were all unfamiliar bands and singers.

“Not true,” Eiij said. He went over to the window and parted the curtains barely. He scanned the street. There was nothing out there except one of the neighbors taking their dog for a walk. He let the curtain slip closed. Of course there was no threat outside. There would not be any threat outside. “You are always welcome. I am glad you are here.”

All the things Ash could say ran through his mind. He could smell dinner from downstairs. The slippers squished under his feet. There was no traffic outside. His waistband was loose around him with no gun to cary. He gripped the side of Eiji’s desk tightly.

“It is hard,” Eiji said quietly, “to be somewhere else.”

Ash wondered if it was just Eiji speaking from experience or Eiji also found this room too warm and too quiet. He relaxed his grip on the desk and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m fine,” he said. He had to be.

Dinner was a mix of leftovers and freshly prepared fish with plenty of rice. The flavors balanced together and complemented each other. Ash let Mrs. Okumura, Hatsuko, and Eiji do the talking. Eiji told them the nicer stories about seeing landmarks and experiencing American food.

“So many stories and you only mention Ash sometimes,” Hatsuko said. She looked to Ash. “How did you meet my brother?”

Eiji tensed beside him. Ash finished chewing, taking the moment to think. “I helped with the article,” he said. “We worked together a lot and then we became friends.” It was the best way to put it.

Hatsuko sighed. “Must be more than that,” she said. “Two years and you can only talk about food?”

“Hatsu-chan, prying is no good,” Mrs. Okumura said. Her tone was light, but her eyes seemed to stare through her food rather than at it properly for a long moment. She turned her gaze to Ash and Eiji. “You can tell only what you wish. I hope things are not stressful now.”

“They are,” Eiji assured. “It is good to be here.”

Ash said nothing. Mrs. Okumura had rounder features than Eiji, but Ash recognized the distance in her expression. He wondered what Ibe told her over the last two years. He did not think Hatsuko knew any negative details.

The conversation turned to what The Okumura family did during the last two years. Eiji’s parents had not done much outside of Mr. Mrs. Okumura traveling for work and Mrs. Okumura ran the household. Hatsuko was busy with university in a nearby city and would graduate at the end of the school year. They lived normal lives and did normal things. Nothing was too news worthy.

It seemed so normal like a television show was normal. It seemed so unsettling.

Eiji dreamt. He ran down the approach towards the planting box at the university field. His clothes were wrong. The jeans didn’t have the give shorts would and the jacket he wore was heavy and a size too big to compensate for his shoulders. When Eiji locked his pole into the planting box and flung himself into the air. Except the pole was really a rusty pipe that crumbled on contact and sent Eiji in the wrong direction. He fell away from the mats. The ground was hard and his hip and knee ached. He could barely breathe. He felt an arm on his shoulder and looked up expecting his coach, but it was Ibe instead. He could see Arthur lurking in the shadows like he was some punk on a sports team.

Eiji sat up in bed immediately. He carefully tried to relax his foot to ease the cramp in the leg he injured years ago. Eiji touched his knee carefully. It was a little puffy. His hip ached as well. He moved his leg into a more comfortable position and let out a long silent sigh. The clock said it was early morning. Ash was asleep on the futon by the window. When Eiji invited Ash to Japan, he had imagined how this would go in several different scenarios, all of which involved Eiji feeling at home and somehow managing to extend that feeling to Ash. Eiji knew that if he was having nightmares then Ash must have having nightmares that were infinitely worse. He had to stay strong for Ash’s sake.

Eiji rolled out of bed. He moved as quietly as possible and set out the biggest shirt he owned and some adjustable track pants that would maybe fit Ash if they were lucky. Eiji knew he had to think about how to make this easier. This was his home turf so he was the expert at where to go and what to do. Eiji grabbed some other clothes for himself and left to take a bath. He could be more open with himself there and not worry everyone else.

When Ash woke, it was still dark. He had an idea that Eiji left the room not that long ago but he didn’t have a clear memory of how he knew this. Ash sat up and rubbed his face, looking around. It was some dumb hour of the morning but that made it late afternoon in New York and not really that odd a time for him to wake up. He stared off for a long time and listened. There were birds outside and noise from the kitchen. He could barely see the clothes waiting for him on the bed. Ash managed to drag himself off the futon and stretch. He could clean up in the sink.

The clothes fit about as well as they could. The shoulders were a little tight and the inseam not long enough but it did not look too silly. Ash shuffled his way down to the kitchen. Mrs. Okumura was already well through prepping for the food she would make. “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” Ash managed. He had no idea what he wanted to eat or how he was supposed to function in this kitchen. He was too used to Eiji just setting things in front of him while he tried to get his brain to stop feeling like a giant Q-tip. When he was left to his own devices he usually ended up with toast that took longer to make than he would like to admit.

There was tea in front of him after a while.

“I am not done with breakfast yet,” Mrs. Okumura said. “It will be ready when Eiji and Hatsuko arrive.”

Ash nodded. “Thanks,” he said. The tea was hot. He felt his brain coming back to him.

Mrs. Okumura smile and then she sat across from Ash at the table. She licked her lips and then she said, “I know more than Eiji thinks,” Mrs. Okumura said.

Ash’s shoulders moved closer to his ears. He gripped his mug tighter. He was officially awake now.

“My husband was at school with Shunichi. I met both together,” she said. “Shunichi cannot lie to us. He told us many things, but not all.”

Ash set the mug down gently. His brain thought about how to get back to the airport, where he might go. Mrs. Okumura was kind like Eiji, but Ash did not know how far her kindness might extend especially since none of them knew what dangers Ash’s presence might bring to Izumo.

“If it’s a problem,” Ash said, “I can leave.”

“Not a problem,” Mrs. Okumura said. “I know you are from a gang. It must be hard to live like that. You helped Eiji. You are his friend. You are always welcome.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Ash said. “Eiji won’t always be happy. I won’t always be able to help him.” Now that they were back in Japan there was no telling if they might just part ways for good either.

“The promises that count are promises between you and Eiji,” Mrs. Okumura said. She stood and went back to multitasking the breakfast. “Children have their romances. It is not a parent’s job.”

Ash almost tipped his mug over. Mrs. Okumura sounded like Max. Was it a romance? Ash did not know.

Eiji stood out of sight but within earshot. He leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. He was not sure if it was a romance or not. He hoped his mom calling it that didn’t make things weird.

“Are you done eavesdropping or are you going to keep standing there in the way?” Hatsuko whispered in Japanese.

Eiji jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me,” he hissed back in Japanese.

“I see the omamori I gave you worked,” Hatsuko said. “He’s more like a model than I imagined though.”

“What were you imagining?” Eiji asked.

Hatsuko grinned. “We all know you go that way, Ei-chan. Don’t be surprised. I’ve known since you were ten.” She gave him double peace signs and then stepped past him and headed towards the kitchen.

Eiji felt his cheeks go red. Since he was ten! He had never really thought about the fact he might be attracted to men until half way through high school. He wondered what other things he thought were super secret that were obvious to everyone who knew him. Eiji took a deep breath and headed into the kitchen.

There was so much they could do, so much they wanted to do, and so much they had to do. Getting Ash some clothes was near the top of the list. They retraced the path they took coming home from the airport, more shops appearing once they reached the national road. The mall was a decent size and full of all kinds of stores. Ash had enough money on him to get a set of clothes and still have money left over.

“Okumura!” someone called out as they passed by a sports store.

Eiji looked over his shoulder and then his face brightened. “Katou!”

They began conversing in Japanese. Ash stood off to the side. Everyone who passed looked at him.

“Who is your friend?” Katou asked in English.

“This is Ash,” Eiji said. When Ash looked over at them, Eiji said, “Ash, this is Katou. He was captain of my team.”

“It is nice to meet you,” Katou said.

“You too,” Ash said.

“Eiji, we need to get the team together and throw a welcome back party,” Katou said in Japanese. “We can go to the place we went to when we won. Everyone missed you when you disappeared.” He switched back to English, “You can bring your friend.”

“Katou! I don’t pay you to gossip!” Katou’s manager said in Japanese from the doorway.

“Sorry!” Katou said with a bow. He looked at Eiji. “I’ll let you know what we can do.”

Eiji nodded and gave a small wave before returning to the flow of people moving through the mall with Ash. “He wants to throw a party,” Eiji said, “with the team.”

“You should go,” Ash said.

Eiji said nothing. His stomach felt sour. His dream that morning was so close to his own memory of running up to the planting block, flying into the air only to fall to the right of the mat rather than the mat. He could remember Katou standing behind his coach watching in horror after Eiji fell.

Eiji took a second to crack his knee, releasing the built up pressure in the joint. “I should,” he said, realizing he was silent for too long. “Will you go?”

“I don’t know,” Ash said.

#fic wip #banana fish fic wip #third tag #fourth tag #fifth tag #banana fish manga spoilers

20 notes · View notes