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snvxiii · 1 year ago

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hii i was wondering, do you have any more info you could share about estelle? i don't think i've seen anyone make xiii ocs and i can tell you've put a lot of thought and love into her so now i'm really curious to learn more lol esp how she and her relationship with snow/serah develops through everything that happens in the xiii saga (esp in xiii-2, poor girl must have been going Through It 😭) - i understand if you don't want to type out a big wall of text though, just whatever you feel comfortable w/sharing!

OMG I would LOVE to overshare about Estelle! I actually have an entire canon list in my drafts that I haven't posted yet, since the bottom half is pretty bare.

Just to establish some basic info on the changes I made re:XIII-trilogy canon:

XIII: Serah is the seventh party member. Aside from Serah’s inclusion, the events during XIII stay, largely, the same. Lightning and Serah are separated early-on.

XIII-2: Follows the events of XIII-2 closely. Estelle is an antagonist, working with Caius* to find a way to keep Serah from dying.

*working together in the sense they both want to stop her from succeeding. Estelle is aware of Caius’ end goal, but has no intention of intervening.

LR: Follows the events of LR closely. Estelle, officially, leads Snow’s guards; however, she’s been leaving more and more, desperate to find out a way to fulfill his Focus.

Post-LR: Serah is busy wrapping up her final year at university. Snow, Estelle, as well as the NORA gang, live together in a quiet beachside town.

–

Some general summary about Estelle:

Estelle has trouble forming meaningful bonds. She finds it hard to take an interest in others and tends to act in an antagonistic way. She is afraid of vulnerability, and thus often acts independently.

Estelle tends to view relationships in a transactional way. Most of her adult relationships fall under this category (coworkers, failed romantic relationships she pursued out of loneliness, peers she considers acquaintances at best).

Her main paradigms are Medic, Synergist, and Commando. You can read more about her battle stats here.

She is a Cocoon l'Cie.

–

Background:

Early age: Estelle is one of many children raised by the Church of Gabriel* located in Palumpolum. She's very shy and has trouble making friends. One of the youth volunteers–a 15 year-old girl named Thea–notices and pays a lot of attention to her.

Estelle, who is 6 years old at this point, latches on. She later considers Thea to be her sister and role model.

*Gabriel is a fal'Cie who is linked to conception, pregnancies, births–essentially, its main function is to ensure Cocoon's population continues to grow and it also acts as a massive database that logs every single birth on Cocoon. A church is built in its name, because why wouldn't the Sanctum use religion to build their own image and take advantage of humanity's belief in the greater unknown? Gabriel is depicted as a kind mother who loves humans.

15 years old: Estelle enrolls into a program to become a part of the church's guard*, hoping to work alongside/under Thea eventually. However, that are rumors of traitors among the guard...

*like the other military groups, they're tasked with protecting Cocoon against Pulse invasion. However, higher members are tasked with exposing and taking out suspected anti-Sanctum rebel groups; as well as, cover-ups.

Thea works under one of the top members; both of whom are later revealed to have conspired with anti-Sanctum groups. On paper, they're both KIA.

One day, Estelle is brought into questioning–nothing official: a small room with someone she considered like-family as well. Given her close relationship with Thea–who has often brought her along to meetings when young–she, unwittingly, ends up giving away the location of their hideout.

After learning the truth, Estelle is confused, feels betrayed (both by the person she told and by Thea's actions), and feels immensely guilty.

The next few years, she continues to train under the program and rises through the ranks; however, her faith is fractured as she learns more about the corruption within the church and the Sanctum.

(Gonna end this part here, because I could actually go on forever.)

–

Her relationship with Snow and Serah (and, really, the others) in XIII:

Early-game, when the group is separated, she ends up being paired with Serah. At this point, Serah still show some hesitation–which pisses Estelle off and causes her to lash out at (she sees a lot of her own fears and weaknesses mirrored in her). Their early dynamic involves a lot of Serah wanting to prove Estelle wrong.

Estelle hates Snow's idealism and, from her POV, blind belief in others. She wants to tear him down so badly. She's, especially, antagonistic towards him.

On Gran Pulse: she ends up leaving the group from a mix of being burnt-out, feeling hopeless, and a massive inferiority from being unable to share in their camaraderie. Of course, she gets herself into trouble by picking a fight with some massive beast to prove something she doesn't need to prove. Thankfully, they find her before she dies (hahahaha).

She loses the emblem she took from Thea's old uniform (she wore it instead of her own issued emblem and often messed with it). She's so depressed and quiet (hahaha).

Vanille notices that she keeps reaching for the spot the emblem used to be. And because Snow can't keep to his own business–he's determined to find it.

When they do find it–it was a long back trek and hours of digging through mud–Estelle is so, genuinely, surprised and touched that she bursts into tears (she needed a good cry for, like, five years). This is when she starts opening up.

Since Estelle is still awful and awkward (she's trying really hard NOT to be an asshole); she approaches Snow and Serah the most (partly out of familiarity; mostly because she feels guilty for how she acted).

Eventually, she starts getting... comfortable and often follows one or both of them around (she's clingy hahahaha).

At the end, she "confesses" in a "let's keep being good friends" (LOL) sort of way, but more heartfelt and awkward.

Gap between XIII > XIII-2:

Estelle chose to help settle New Bodhum. She tries hard to be proactive and helpful, but ends up just... hanging around Snow and Serah again. It's... endearing?

After spending, like, a year together, Estelle just. Realizes she's crushing hard and this is a Disaster. And it's obvious when she realizes, because she starts acting like a jerk again.

Her confession was... it was embarrassing.

XIII-2:

At this point, they're dating for... two years? Estelle's tied a lot of her identity to their relationship, so she is attached to both of them in an unhealthy way. It's not exactly a problem, because they're all still young and haven't recognized the red flags yet (lol).

Estelle has a dream of Serah dying... it's realistic and terrifying and fills her with this massive sense of dread and she just can't lose anyone again. When Snow suggests finding Lightning, she is pissed. She lets him leave unhappily (and when they meet again, she is so fucking angry that he got branded again).

When she learns Serah really IS dying... god, she almost loses it. She accepts to aid Caius in stopping Serah and Noel. Her paradox ending is trapping Serah in a dream-like state.

They have one last date on her request.

When Serah dies, Estelle is truly heartbroken. And thus starts her obsession with keeping Snow alive in LR.

XIII-2 > LR:

Estelle spends many years blaming Lightning for Serah's death.

LR:

Estelle spends five centuries driving herself and Snow mad, trying to find a way to "fulfill" his Focus. She gets worse as times goes by and often leaves for long and longer periods of time.

Eventually, it hits a point where she realizes she's only making Snow miserable and adding to his stress (and contributing to a faster death). So, she leaves. No, she doesn't tell him; she writes a letter (and he does not read it).

Despite leaving, Estelle still continues her pointless hunt. It's only when she meets Lightning that she finally accepts that she can't save Snow and she begs Lightning to save him.

They do reunite, however, and choose to spend their last few days being together and remembering Serah. Happy ending, I guess?

Post-LR:

Lots of therapy. Estelle is learning to be okay with being alone and finding ways to enjoy herself that doesn't revolve around her relationships.

They don't get back together immediately. Though Snow and Serah still care and are open to the idea, it's hard to just... pretend what happened didn't happen. Their first few months is spent learning and being comfortable again.

And that's about it so far!

#j answers #snstse canon #oc posting #this is SO long LOL #this isn't even main canon–there's two #main canon goes after XIII and explores the after and is very less focused on making snow and estelle unhappy and more on domestic fluff #anyways i'm going to frame this ask in my mind thaaaaanks!

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bellysoupset · 2 years ago

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How much do your OCs of The Dumbasses Universe know about each other's traumas? Obviously Jonah knows what Luke's is but what about other dynamics? I mean the guys were surprised the song triggered Lucas and they didn't know Leo is taking antidepressants so it made me curious.

I really love your work can't wait to read more💜💜

Oh hello there!

I'm sorry it took me ages to answer :/

They don't know all that much, seeing as most of their tight knit friend group came to be during college itself. Jonah knows all about Luke's life and family and vice versa, but they've known each other for forever.

Bella and Luke have been dating (I think? I don't remember) for two years and she's yet to meet his family. She knows of the whole backstory, but knowing from what people tell you is much different from witnessing it. Same case with Vince, he knows Luke's relationship with his family is bad, but doesn't know all the details, also it's implied in that same song fic that he's not aware Luke's mom passed away while he was in the room.

Most of the guys know about Vince's backstory, the guy is a huge teddy bear who overshares at any given minute. Only Bella and Luke know about the short stretch of food insecurity he'd go through. Luke's met his family and been practically adopted by them too.

Leo is the big unknown of the group, because he's closely guarded and has learned nothing good comes out of sharing. None of the guys know about his tragic backstory, safe a few morsels here and there. Jonah is VERY invested into collecting these tidbits of info, so is Lucas, but Bella, Wendy and Vince aren't stalkerish like the other two and aren't trying to put Leo's life together.

Wendy is the new one in the group, so no one knows anything about her. Jonah and her are just getting to the sharing part of their friendship.

Luke knows about Bella's family and her whole history, she makes no effort to hide, she just won't talk about it unless prompted. Vince and Jonah both have some vague idea about her backstory, Leo thinks Bells is scary and doesn't really know all that much.

#i think this covers most?#its all blurry #myocs

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freenewsreport · 1 month ago

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The Mystery of Malia Manocherian: Unveiling a Rising Star

Who is Malia Manocherian? Why does her name seem to spark curiosity wherever it’s mentioned? In recent times, Malia Manocherian has caught the attention of many, but details about her remain elusive. Her rise to prominence has people questioning her journey, contributions, and how she became such an enigma. Is she a new public figure, an artist, or a behind-the-scenes mastermind? In this article, we’ll dive deep into what makes Malia Manocherian a name worth knowing. Along the way, we’ll explore her story, break down her influence, and maybe uncover a few surprises.

Who Is Malia Manocherian?

If you're asking this question, you're not alone! The name Malia Manocherian might sound familiar to some, but for many, she's still a mystery. While you may not find her gracing the cover of every magazine, her influence spans various industries. Is she an entrepreneur? A philanthropist? An artist? As we explore her background, we begin to see the outline of a person who’s making waves in unexpected ways.

A Brief History of Malia Manocherian

Although details about Malia Manocherian's early life are scarce, one thing is clear: she didn’t just stumble into fame. Her journey reflects a series of well-calculated moves, where she has seamlessly navigated different fields. Some speculate that her success lies in her ability to stay versatile and adapt to change, which is why she’s managed to thrive across multiple platforms. Isn’t it intriguing how certain people manage to stay relevant, no matter what?

The Career of a Modern Maverick

Now, let's get into the meat of the matter. Malia Manocherian has been associated with a wide array of industries. From fashion to media, she seems to have a foot in many doors. But what sets her apart is her ability to create impact behind the scenes. Whether it's launching a groundbreaking project or supporting causes close to her heart, she stays humble yet influential.

Fashion & Influence

One of the primary fields where Malia Manocherian has gained traction is in fashion. She’s known to attend high-profile events, rub shoulders with designers, and even work on collaborative projects. Her style? Effortlessly chic, yet bold. It’s no wonder she’s become a rising figure in fashion circles. Want to dress like Malia? Start by blending confidence with authenticity!

Media Presence

While Malia Manocherian isn't the most vocal figure on social media, her presence is felt. She’s got a knack for knowing when to step into the spotlight and when to stay behind the curtain. This kind of strategy has only fueled the mystery around her, making people more intrigued by her every move.

Why Does Malia Manocherian Remain a Mystery?

Here’s a fun question: why do we love mysteries so much? It’s the thrill of the unknown, the challenge of figuring things out. With Malia Manocherian, the puzzle deepens as we realize how well she balances privacy with public life. Unlike many who chase the limelight, Malia keeps people guessing. This blend of visibility and invisibility makes her a magnet for curiosity. Why does she choose this path, though? Is it a conscious decision to protect her personal life, or is she building anticipation for something bigger? Only time will tell!

Personal Life: Keeping It Close to the Chest

When it comes to her personal life, Malia Manocherian is famously private. Few know about her family, relationships, or day-to-day activities. This discretion is refreshing in a world where oversharing is the norm. You won’t find her airing grievances online or posting daily selfies. Instead, she lets her work speak for itself. This restraint has left fans and followers hungry for more details. Does she enjoy the quiet life when the cameras are off? Or is she carefully crafting an image for a greater reveal?

Malia Manocherian's Impact Beyond Fame

It’s one thing to be famous, but it’s another to make an impact. Malia Manocherian seems to lean more towards the latter. She’s been involved in several philanthropic endeavors, focusing on causes like education, women's rights, and environmental issues. Rather than seeking praise for her efforts, she works quietly, letting the impact speak louder than her involvement. How many celebrities do we know that can genuinely claim this level of modesty?

The Future of Malia Manocherian: What’s Next?

What’s next for Malia Manocherian? Speculation about her future runs high. Some say she’s working on a project that will redefine how we think about celebrity culture. Others believe she might step further into the public eye, giving fans a closer look at her world. Whatever happens, one thing is certain: Malia Manocherian is just getting started. Her career trajectory is moving upwards, and she’s poised to make even bigger waves in the coming years. Aren’t you excited to see what she does next?

Conclusion: Why We’re All Talking About Malia Manocherian

At the end of the day, Malia Manocherian represents a new kind of public figure. She’s someone who can balance success and privacy, all while making a genuine difference. As her story continues to unfold, we can only expect more surprises, more mystery, and a growing fanbase intrigued by her every move. If you haven’t yet heard of her, now is the perfect time to get familiar!

#Mystery #Malia Manocherian

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just-my-type-x · 1 year ago

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would u mind sharing some unknown things about u? Deep or not, consider it a therapy moment haha ❤️ love u

I wanted to say no at first about the deep things, but i figured that it doesn't really matter. Especially bc if u can relate to whatever i will say, maybe it helps u as well. I think I'll list top 5 or something

Starting off really strong and sad, I struggle with anxiety and depression and I'm working on it every single day. I realised it started to affect me really bad when i was going home and i had a panic attack, which was really hard to control on my own

I can't show affection, i used to be really cold towards my current partner, which almost cost us our relationship,but till this day i can't be affectionate towards anybody in my family. As a kid, whenever i showed my feelings towards somebody, they were rejected, so, with time, i started shutting them down which caused the present damage haha and it sucks bc I'm not affectionate towards my parents and sister even if i wish i said or did certain things

I cry every year when it's my bday, like ugly crying. This week was my bday and i quit my job a week prior which led me to cry about the fact that my parents do a lot for me, yet i don't seem to repay them in any way bc i left my job

I had 2 best friends that got with my exes (1 did it while we were together, the other one right after we broke up) i haven't had a best friend in almost 4 years, which hurts bc i can't let anything off my chest to anybody other than my bf

I am afraid of fireworks and my whole body shakes like crazy for as long as the fireworks are on. New years Eve is crazy 🤧🤧

I overshared, but if u relate to anything i wrote down, I'm always down to chat, so dm me if u ever have a rough day ♥️ love u too

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argentesk · 6 years ago

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★ ▌STARTER CALL — ❛ @unladylikc.

“The unfortunate thing about glasses is that every time I see someone wearing a pair, I’m reminded that I’m blind as a bat and don’t wear them because I think they look terrible on me. Every now and again I remember, oh, right, trees are supposed to have individual leaves.”

Oversharing is his one talent, truly.

#✩. ADAPT ❝ — prompto #unladylikc #❮ untitled ❯ — ;;#✩. ❛ a path not yet detailed ⟨ UNKNOWN ⟩#ooc;;#i'm not sure honestly so oversharing prompto because he's an anxious boy that needs an adult even though he is one

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corysmiles · 3 years ago

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:] runnaway experiment time.

----

Toeing the line of lies.

Footsteps resonated through the corridor. God, it was one of those days, wasn’t it? Wilbur was already tired of the conversation ahead of him.

He opened the door and, seeing no one else here yet, decided to buy himself a coffee.

You know, being a mad scientist who has to hide the existence of the first laboratorial human ever created to your loved ones is one thing. Putting up with an astronomical amount of paperwork is one thing. Hiding your lessons in morality and basic human concepts to the laboratorial human from your other coworkers who mostly treat the boy like an unknown robot was one thing.

But having to clean up the slip ups of that same boy to your other coworkers to make sure they don’t know what he’s learning, otherwise you would be fired if not silenced in barely legal methods was another thing.

The main difference being, wilbur had no fucking control over what Tom said and avoided. What he did and did not. How much he spoke about Wilbur during their sessions. How much everyone knew.

And he couldn’t just ask. What on earth would one think to directly draw suspicion on yourself like that! He had to play fucking mind games all week to be on the same page as everyone! And if he asked Tom too often the boy would feel guilty about oversharing and would shut off. WHICH WOULD LEAD TO MORE SUSPICION Because he would be the last person Tom saw before the shift in behaviour.

Of course they would care about his feelings when it was inconvenient. Of fucking course.

A groan, and he slammed his head on the table. Days like these happened from time to time, but recently, the frequency increased. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all…

“Glad to see your enthusiasm, Wilbur.”

He shot his head straight up with a silent yelp. He turned his head to meet Techno.

“Oh he-eeyy! I was just- … Mondays, you know?” He showed his coffee.

“Yeah, mondays.” Techno replied, bringing a mug near his mouth. Wilbur sighed internally before taking a deep breath. “So, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he said, taking a sip. “Research is good, progress is made, we’re pretty much early on all fronts, and our secret project is coming along wonderfully! Na, I think we’re doing fine.”

It took all of Wilbur’s self control to not hesitate and cheer as well. “Indeed! Which is why I’m curious as to why you brought me here…”

Techno paced around. “Well, I just wanted to ask you some questions, you know? How are your trainings doing, how T-0-M is behaving with you, anything I should worry about… You know, just a regular check-in. We don't get to speak to each other often with all the work.”

‘Wonderful, the 3 dimensional chess game starts now.’

“Oh? I mean, it's nice to talk to you, always, I thought the reports were detailed enough.” He admitted, hoping to make enough of a distraction.

“ Oh I haven’t read a single thing you wrote. Jordan is the one taking care of that. I’m just askin as a coworker.” ‘Of fucking course.’

“Aww, techno is worried about lil’ old me?” Wilbur teased.

“You wish” he smirked in response.

“Not worried enough to check out the reports at least.” the brunette stretched. “But na, Tom is extremely obedient and listening. There have been no slip ups as far as I remember.”

“No slip ups?” He raised an eyebrow.

‘Has Tom made slip ups during their training?? What the fuck is that look for??’

“Well, Almost no slip ups, The subject still tends to be a little careless at times, you know.”

Techno laughed. “That’s putting it lightly.” and ‘What??’

“Has any accident happened recently?” He asked, worry in his voice.

“Well, he didn’t threaten anyone, which is good, but aside from its loud voice and usual clumsiness, we’ve got ourselves a new addition to the list. I don’t know if you had that but during the experiments…. Sometimes he just…. Stops.”

“What?”

“It’ll just look at the ground with glassy eyes, no movement, no talking, no blinking. It just… stares.”

‘???? WHAT??’

“Does he do anything?? How long does it last??”

“Well, it won’t answer the first call, but after 3 or 4, it snaps out of it.” Techno explained, voice level, as opposed to Wilbur’s.

“.... That’s … weird. He never does that with me. Do you think it has something to do with the room?”

“I mean, the experimentation room is pretty much the same as its containment room” ‘Bedroom.’ “so I don’t see how it would factor.”

“...uh.”

“What’s interesting is, as of recently, when it does this, rarely, but often enough for it to be a somewhat common occurrence, it mumbles.”

Wilbur felt his throat tightening.

‘What does he talk about? What did he say?? Did he blow us?? Wait, mumble- MUMble?? Screw the mentalist work, this is brilliant!’

“... Interesting! How did he learn how to do that? Doesn’t it usually just… talk?”

“Well, Philza usually rambles to himself so…”

“He can mimic outside behavior outside of language? That’s amazing!”

“EEeeeehhhh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Techno, he is becoming more and more Human.That is WONDERFUL!”

“I’d rather see it as a thorn in our side but-”

“What do you mean?”

Techno turned around to meet Wilbur’s eyes, genuinely confused.

“What?”

“What do you mean “thorn in our side”? We managed to create a giant fucking human, how can you not be delighted??”

“.... Well, I mean, can we really call it ‘human’?? It’s still… it was still made in a lab and all and he lacks basic human stuff. Also, have you seen a human that’s like 30 feet tall?”

“Well, I can- I could teach him more stuff if that’s what’s bothering you! I can take extra hours if it means we can teach that thing to be human!”

“... Nah, I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Still, we can ask.”

“You think they’ll let you? What if it decided to rebel against us??”

“...”

A sigh, and a drop of shoulder. “You’re right.”

"Thanks. You really got too attached to the thing, in case you forgot, it's not human."

".... how can you say that techno??" Wilbur groaned. "Size aside, he's basically human!"

"Nah, dude. I know you're close, but no. We can't let it get more room than that."

"... you wouldn't say that if he were to be human, would you?"

"Look, if a human was kept in here for years, they would have gone mad and tried to escape. Has T-0-M gone insane? Wanted to see the outside?? No! And if it were to become angry at us do you think it'll leave just a few bruises and broken locks?? T-0-M is dangerous. And we can't let that thing out."

"... and you keep calling him that."

"Because that's his name! Not 'Tom', no little Tommy to whatever. It is an experiment. An artificial human, key word 'artificial'."

"....."

"...."

"Thank you, Techno. I'll think about what you said." Wilbur said after a sigh. The tension on Techno's shoulder dropped.

"I just don't want to take risks, dude."

"Yeah, no. You're right."

After a small silence, a doctor opened the door to the room.

"Techno?"

"Oh hello, puffy."

"Phil is asking for you on the 3rd floor… Am I interrupting something?"

"We were just finished, actually," Wilbur smiled. "How are you doing puffy?"

Techno parted away, and puffy entered the room further.

"Good, good. I have to go see The subject in 2 hours. He's really nice!"

"Yeah…" despite the topic, Wilbur couldn't bring himself to smile.

"Puffy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think it's dangerous to treat Tom like a human?"

Puffy's eyes widened.

"...Well not necessarily. It's easy to mistake him for someone like you and me. But I feel like it's best if he doesn't know some things yet...."

"... to keep him in ignorance."

"I mean, if he learns too much, it might just make him sad. Knowing everything he misses in life, it's pretty heartbreaking. Plus the instructions were clear on that… we can't have anyone knowing about Tom."

"Yeah… but like, one day. Just one day, it’s not too much to ask, is it?"

".... dude, I want him to be happy too, but it's for his and our own good."

"... yeah. The contract and all that."

A hand on his shoulder, and Puffy offered a smile.

"Don't worry. It's gonna be nice. Tom is not unhappy here. We’ll make sure he only gets happier. This is his home after all."

And with that, she exited the room. Wilbur stood here, slowly lifting his hand to mask his mouth, gripping his cheeks.

……

….

'And that's the fucking problem, isn't it ?'

More runaway experiment au YES!!!!

Mel I can’t even put into words how much I adore this AU this is so good and I love the interaction between puffy and wilbur :”””]

#runaway experiment au #melissas writing #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #t!wilbur #g!tommy

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achliegh · 3 years ago

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Golden

(Sorry if this Chapter is lack luster :/ )

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Ladies Love Country Boys

Bonfire Playlist: Spotify, Youtube

Watching Airplanes

Chapter 2:

Cowboy Sweet Ass sent you a Location

New Message from Cowboy Sweet Ass

See you there ;)

Finn was nervous, he wasn’t gonna lie, Logan and Him are leaving tomorrow for Gryff and this is the last night they can see Leo. Who, neither of them will admit this, has kindly wiggled his way into their brains for every minute of everyday. Sometimes to break a long silence between the two of them they will talk about Leo. How they were going to cope when they can’t see him again is unknown and something he didn’t want to think about.

They hadn’t actually seen Leo in the past five days, with their training schedule and Leo helping set up a charity arena for the thing they were supposed to meet him at tonight, it was just late night calls that were still kinda awkward at times. But always had them smiling as they fell asleep.

Walking up the dirt path, where the uber had dropped them off, Logan and Finn weren’t sure they were in the right place until they saw the huge crowd gathered around a tall metal fence with bleachers and an announcers corner that's up on a hydraulic lift, speakers set up so people can hear the quick talking of the men commenting on whatever was happening.

Horses and people on them were everywhere. This causes Logan a lot of stress, as someone who is terrified of horses… This is not ideal. Especially when one is trotting toward them at a scary fast speed.

Finn recognized Clayton immediately, trotting over at a leisurely pace on a cool looking horse he waves. He notices Logan hiding himself completely behind Finn’s back. Finn held his hand out for Logan to take and squeeze if everything got too much for him. Logan wasn’t good in big crowds.

“Well look who it is!” Clayton hops off his living vehicle and patting her neck. “Let me introduce you to my babe, This” He gestures towards the mare, “Is Leroy, she is a Blanket Appaloosa! Have you guys met Peanut yet? He’s chilling with Eloise, Leo’s mom, you better hope he likes you or else… yeah, or else.” Clay flashes them his slightly crooked but stupidly white smile as he absentmindedly pets Leroy’s neck.

Feeling a squeeze of his hand he looks back to see an absolutely terrified Logan, not knowing about his fear of horses Finn is just confused. So, he goes into a ‘ get Logan alone’ mind set.

“We will find you in a minute, we’re gonna explore!” Finn smiles back and Clayton nods as he swings his leg back over Leroy and clicks his tongue so she struts back towards the group of other yeehaws on their own horses, they all had numbers pinned to their backs which was weird but Finn guessed Leo would explain later. Claytons was CR243, and it looked like it was about to fall off. He notices how someone would go in real fast and then come out after a minute or two. The announcer talked too fast for him to catch.

Leading Logan to a more open area he turns to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

“Ummmm, J'ai peur des chevaux….” Logan isn’t looking him in the eyes and has an embarrassed flush to his face. Finn, having no clue what he said, gently grabs his chin to make him look at him, Lo hasn’t run his finger through his hair yet so that means he isn’t nervous around Finn at least. Fixing Logan with a slightly irritated but still worried look, Logan sighs and tries to say something but instead what comes out is a terrified yelp as something takes his hat off his head and pulls some of his hair at the same time, then drops it at his feet.

Whipping around and jumping into Finn’s arms bridal style Logan shrieks as he is met with a blonde horse that almost looks smug. The little splotchy white stripes on its snoot may make it look kinda cute but Logan knows what can happen if you get on a horse's bad side. It happened to Sydney, he didn’t need it to happen to him too.

“Peanut!” A very tall and beautiful older woman walks over to them laughing a little, she has a hearing aid in her left ear and soft blue eyes bright with amusement stare them down. “Sorry Y’all, he likes to find new people to mess with.” She smiles and there is just something so familiar about those deep dimples and sharp cheekbones. She is wearing tight jeans with knee high army green cowboy boots, a white button up with a black cowboy hat contrasting the golden curls falling out from under it. She is wearing a sash with the words ‘Miss Louisiana 1971’ the wrinkles on her face didn’t make her look old and crinkly like people like to think, but more like a gracefully aging woman. She holds her hand out to Finn for him to shake, Logan is still in his arms so it is as much of an invitation to him as Finn. “I’m Eloise, this is my son’s horse.” She looks them up and down after shaking both their hands. “He would like you two.” She smiles one last time, giving them a giant wink and leads Peanut away from them back to the bullpens where they spot Leo sitting on the top of a fence talking to a couple of people.

Finn looks at Logan and sets him down.

“So.. horses?”

“Shut up”

“You go for a cowboy and are afraid of horses!” Finn is bent over laughing and clutching his stomach while Logan crosses his arms and looks around annoyed after he dusted off his hat and put it back on his head.

“What’s so funny?” they look over to see Leo in full get up. Smiling bright, showing off his chipped tooth. His hair was flattened by a black sturdy cowboy hat, his blue button up vibrant under his black vest. The vest had a couple of logos stitched into it for Absolut Vodka, Mt. Dew, and Ariat…. Leo was sponsored? He was also wearing some jeans that fit him just right around his booty that they could see through his assless black chaps that had iridescent tassels on them, with his black boots and belt to match. His silver buckle stood out with the light reflecting off it.

“Wow… you look great.” Logan just melts into Leo’s side when Leo wraps an arm around his shoulders. “But tell Finn to stop being a jerk.” Logan put on his best pout when looking up at the taller man, who looked at him with a look that made his heart feel like it was about to jump out of his chest. It didn’t alarm him though, it was nice to feel like this. But it can’t last forever.

“What's he doing that's so mean.” Leo turns his attention to Finn who is smiling at them like he's watching two kittens cuddle into each other. His eyes bright with happiness, his smiles wide.

“He’s making fun of me because I’m scared of horses.” Logan wraps his arms around Leo’s waist and squishes his cheek into his chest to look as cute as possible, so Leo will be on his side. Which… fails.

“You’re afraid of horses!” Leo hugs Logan as he starts laughing, smacking a kiss on the top of Logan’s annoyed forehead and squeezes him. “You’re so cute.” Suddenly they hear numbers coming over other speakers and Leo perks up. “Oh I’m up soon! I hope y’all are gonna stay and watch because I would love to take you to the bonfire tonight.” He pulls Finn into the embrace and gives them both a quick peck on the lips, smiling when they chase his lips. “There should be an open spot in the bleachers or, you could watch from Peanut.”

“Bleachers!” Logan gets out of Leo’s arms and starts pulling both the boys towards the crowd without horses. Leo helps them find a spot next to some girls who flirt with Leo but he has no fucking clue. He is just focused on getting Finn and Logan a good spot.

“Alright, my number is BR11710, so when you hear that you’ll know I’m up! I think Clay might come and find you, he had a good run earlier wrangling those troublemaking claves, so keep an eye out for him.” He smiles and climbs down the bleachers gracefully until the last small step where his spur gets caught and he has to yank it out of the cevous it got stuck in. Looking back up at Finn and Logan his cheeks were red as he shrugged and sauntered off towards the chutes.

“Hola losers!” Clayton plops down above with and slaps a hand on their shoulders. “Excited to see him ride? Or have you already? Actually I would know because we overshare way too much.” Smiling, Clayton is covered in dirt and his cowboy hat has been traded out for a ball cap and his button up taken off to be just a white tank top. A tall pale girl sat down with Clayton and was scrolling on her phone looking uninterested. Clayton sits up and wraps an arm around her waist. “Oh this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” She looks up and gives them an irritated wave before going back to her phone.

“Ride? What’s he doing?” Finn looks at him confused after sharing a look with Logan about the irritated girlfriend, then they hear the announcers call Leo's number.

“Alrighty ladies and gentlefolk! We have something special for y’all! One of our very own PBR riders is here to ride the roughest toughest bull of the day! Ole Forty Days!” The crowd cheers as a confused Finn and Logan look at Clayton who whoops and hollers for his bestie. Whistling with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth.

“Alright Jimmy lets get in some commentary before the ride starts, Leo Knut is a 19 year old Professional Bull Rider, his Mother is Eloise Knut also known as Miss Rodeo of 1970 and Miss Louisiana of 1971. His father was Wyatt Knut, Air Force Veteran who was also Leo’s biggest role model.”

“Was?” Logan whispers and gives a sad look to Finn who is busy watching Leo, he is on this tank of an animal, large, white, horns the size of his whole forearm. Leo was adjusting the way he is sitting and has an underside grip on the rope around the bull, wrapping it around his palm to make sure there isn’t a tether that can be stepped on and yank him off.

“Ole Forty Days is the only PBR bull here today, worth millions he is undefeated 32-0 in his career this year. Will Leo who is 30-2 this year be able to stay on those eight seconds.”

Leo hits the challenge button and the gate flies open, Ole Forte days is wild! Finn is automatically on his feet as he watches Leo with his hand up in the air, eyes hard from focusing and counting in his head. Forte turns a 45 degree buck and just about tosses Leo but his grip is so tight that he lasts those eight seconds. The announcers went crazy the entire time.

As he dismounts the still bucking bull his wrist gets caught in the rope he was holding earlier because of the way his glove is falling apart. The rodeo clowns distract the bull fast enough for Leo to get himself detached, falling on the ground. The bull tosses Leo onto the ground and just misses stomping on his ankles. Leo hops onto the fence, the adrenaline is pumping through his veins and his eyes are bright as he searches for the boys in the stand watching him with fear etched into their faces. When his eyes met Logan’s the fear turned into relief and Leo felt the adrenaline making his heart beat even faster.

After Forte is corralled back into the pen to have the rope around his hips removed Leo jumps off the fence and takes his hat off bowing to the crowd, and they love it, whistling and whoops are heard. He points to Finn, Logan and Clayton. Clayton is so excited and starts dragging the other two down the bleachers leaving Ashley behind. Leo doesn’t like her at all so it's fine. Leo turns around and walks towards sports medicine and lets them take a look at his wrist. As his adrenaline starts to fade away the tweak in his wrist starts to bother him as the medic wraps it up.

“You just ruined Forte’s career!” Clay hugs him from the side and picks him up all excited, his girlfriend who decided to join looks at them unapprovingly. Finn and Logan basically tackle Leo to the ground once Clay puts him down. One on each side of him, balanced.

“Are you insane! That could have killed you!” Finn is shaking a laughing Leo by his collar as Logan examines the way his wrist is wrapped.

“I know, I technically wrecked at the end but I still got my eight seconds!” He smiles and takes his hand from Logan, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

“You never told us you rode bulls! Leo, a little heads up would have been appreciated!” Logan whacks him on the back of the head after they stand up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” Leo puts an arm around them and kisses their temples. They had an idea. Where to do it was the question.

The rodeo ended not long after Leo’s ride, the charities the winners chose would be given a five thousand dollar check courtesy of the Knut’s. After Leo was done taking down the arena, a large pile of wood was set up with large equipment. Leo pulled a Clayton and took off his chaps, vest, button down, and hat off so he was wearing a white shirt and a ball cap.

Leo made up for scaring Finn and Logan by pulling them into the back seat of his truck. Leo sitting in the middle of the seat with Finn straddling one leg, hunched over and sucking on Leo’s neck. Logan straddled Leo’s other leg and kissed him with a ferocity that made them both groan. Leo rested his hands in Finn’s hair and on Logan’s hip. Pulling away Leo turns his head to face Finn, guiding him from his neck to lips. He feels Logan push his hand underneath his shirt and smirks into his kiss with Finn. Moving his hands to squeeze both of their asses, causing Logan’s breath to hitch and Finn to moan. He is about to suggest something spicy when a knock on the window alerts them that the party has started.

Why does Clay always have to stick to his word? Leo asked him to let them know when it was time to move his truck to have the tailgate facing the fire, and now was that time. Leo’s head thumps back onto the seat as he lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Well, I guess we have a party to attend… I’m gonna get so drunk.” He smiles and gives his boys one last kiss before he ushers them out of the truck so he can get out of the backseat to move it.

Finn wanders over to Clayton who has Ashley under his arm, she is tall and very skinny. Her long brown hair was in a French braid, she was wearing short shorts, boots and a crop top. He has a very sour look on her face as Finn walks over to them. Logan on the other hand, goes to take a piss in the porta potty. Something he is not fond of doing.

Leo moves his truck and gets out to put the tailgate down so people can sit on it, climbing into the bed of the truck he opens the cooler in the back and takes out two budlights, Leo doesn't really care for budlight but they need to be drunk.

“CLAYTON!” He shouts as the three walk over to the truck, chucking the beer at his friend; they both take out their keys, puncturing the cans and shotgunning the beers.

A few hours and a lot of drinks later Leo was singing to Finn, standing between his legs as Finn sat on the tailgate next to Logan who was filming.

“You can train 'em, You can try to teach 'em right from wrong. But it's still gonna turn 'em on!” Finn can’t help but laugh and wrap his arms around Leo’s necklaces he sang, every once in while facing Logan's phone and singing into the camera as he filmed. Taking a drink of his beer he smacks a sloppy kiss on Finn's cheek and skips away to Clayton to dance like idiots as Luke Bryan sang about shaking it for birds and bees.

The two drunken best friends wrap and arm around each other hips with their drinks in the other hand, putting left side to right side they swing back and forth to the beat as they scream out the music.

Later on Leo picks Logan up so his arms are around his neck and his legs are around his waist and spins around while humming to a song about wheels and Finn looks so smitten that clayton takes a picture to show him and laughs as he send it to Leo, who has managed to misplace his phone… for the millionth time.

Setting Logan down he wraps his arms around the shorter man's shoulders and rests his chin on top of his head as he bounces to the beat. Logan leans his forehead to rest on Leo’s chest and uses his hand that isn’t holding his water to loop his finger into one of Leo’s belt loops he wishes he could take a screenshot in his brain.

Hours passed, singing and horrible dancing, more drinking for Clay and Leo until it sounded like a good idea to see who could crush a folding table by jumping off Clayton’s truck. Finn managed to lead them away before they actually tried it by telling them’ Leo could def dance better than Clayton’. Which turned into the worst dance battle ever seen. Two drunk teenagers and country music make for terrible dancing but a lot of laughs. Eventually, the fire dies down, the drinks run out and the boys get tired. Finn wrangles Leo into the back seat of the truck after lifting the tailgate, moving to go to the drivers seat because Logan might be to short to drive and they are to dumb to figure out how to move the seats, Leo latches onto him and pulls him into the backseat with him.

“Hey! How do you expect me to drive back here!” Finn pokes Leo’s nose and Leo catches his finger in his mouth biting him. Finn squawks and pulls his finger away. Looking at Leo offended, laughing a little as Leo is looking at him with this tiny smirk. “That was rude.” Leo narrows his eyes playfully and flips them so Finn is laying on his back with Leo snuggling into his chest.

Logan gets in on the passenger side and looks up to see Finn in the back seat being snuggled by an oddly cat like Leo who is rubbing his face on Finn’s soft t shirt, when his eyes meet Logans he blushes so vibrantly pink and has the shyest smiles as he hides his face in Finn’s chest again. Logan looks at Finn who looks like he's dying from cuteness overload. Logan moves over to the driver's seat and sits all the way on the edge of the seat to be able to touch the petals. Logan doesn’t have a clue where Leo lives… but he does remember how to get back to the hotel.

Trying to get a clingy 6’3” cowboy into a hotel room while he is intoxicated is a lot easier than you would think. He was tired, stripping down the second they walk into the door he lands on the bed in his boxer briefs and spoons Logan and grips Finn’s arm as he falls asleep.

They all slept incredibly well that night, warm, close, and together.

The next morning was the morning The Lions leave to go back to Gryffindor. Leo was up before the other two, showered and dressed when he woke them up with peppering kisses all over their faces.

“Good morning, Honey Bees. Y’all need to get up and get ready to leave, you go home today.” Leo runs his hand through Finn’s hair as he greets them with a sad smile. He doesn’t want them to leave, but he knows that this isn’t some fairytale where two princes will give up their dreams to be with him. That’s not what he wants anyway. The other two finally get up, Finn goes to shower as Logan changes and packs his bag. Glancing at Leo every once in a while, like he wants to say something.

“Leo, what are you still doing here?” Logan drops his bag by the door and turns around to face the taller man, crossing his arms and giving Leo a cold look. Leo is a little taken back by this, Logan has never looked at him like that, and he wasn’t expecting it from how nice yesterday was.

“I was to see you two off… is that okay?” Leo starts to feel uncomfortable under the harsh eyes he found so pretty, he starts picking at the wrap around his wrist, breaking eye contact with Logan as a sinking feeling seeps into his chest. He never expected anything to actually come from this but he ached for it.

He knows where this is going.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen after we leave, but we aren’t going to be fawning over you when we are busy with our own careers. You are just… a guy who we had a fling with. Finn and I aren’t even together so don’t expect anything.” Logan's voice stayed low in volume but echoed in Leo’s ears.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted to see you guys leave, say goodbye, maybe…” Leo didn’t finish his sentence when he looked up at an annoyed and frustrated Logan. “What did I do?” He hears the bathroom door open and Finn walks into the room whistling in fresh clothes as he dries his hair with a towel.

“You don’t mean anything to us Leo'' Finn hears Logan and knows exactly what’s going on, Logan has done this to him many times. This is Logan’s way of cutting off something he wants in a way he knows won't bring the person back, even though he always feels horrible eventually. Finn has been a victim of Logan’s lashing out many times, and he hasn’t left, because he loves Logan. He really really likes Leo, he gives his heart a similar jolt that Logan does. From what they have discussed, Logan felt the same. Logan doesn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling like this though.

Leo looks absolutely shattered after Logan’s words sank in. He looks over to Finn who looks like he’s in his own head, then back to Logan. “I really really like you guys-”

“Stop being a fucking child Leo! This isn’t something we can continue after we leave, we would get torn to shreds by the league! Not everything is about you and we don’t want you! So just go back to your fucking farm and forget us.” Logan grabs his bag and walks out the door slamming it shut, going to be the first one on the bus that just pulled up to take the team to the airport.

Leo stares at where Logan was when red catches his eye, Finn stops and gives Leo a sad smile, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Finn then turns his back to Leo and follows Logan out the door. Leaving Leo alone in the hotel room… He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the hotel keycard, standing up he goes to leave it on the table of the room, he stops just before he sets the key down.

He takes the card and walks out of the room, Climbing into his truck that was horribly parked, he finds his phone on the floor of the passenger side. Picking up his phone, he calls up the only person he knows who would be willing to hang out even if he was sick from last night.

“Clay? Can you meet me somewhere?”

A half hour and some McDonald's hash browns later. Clayton and Leo were sitting on top of Leo’s truck hood watching the airplanes take off, sipping on soda they got with their food. They watched in a comfortable silence as planes brought people in and took people away.

Logan and Finn were on one of those.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years ago

Text

One More Weekend With You

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n-Was gonna post another one from this set of fics, but this was oh so conveniently edited and forgotten in my drafts)

Summary- Inspired by Tis The Damn Season of the Evermore album

Masterlist

Warnings- Angst

It was hard to tell, it had been so long and maybe he'd cut his hair and started wearing his beard lower. Maybe he'd changed the way he dressed- no, not really. Did he always keep his hand in his pocket when he walked? He did, it was definitely him, and there wasn't a chance that her heart was going to let her avoid him. He still had a place there after all.

Rubbing the cool metal of the key between her fingers, Y/n inhaled deeply, trying to brush off her nerves before making her way through the department store to where Keanu stood. "Ke?"

And of course, he'd know her voice anywhere. So instead of just turning to see who it was, Keanu smiled despite the wave of pain that usually accompanied the thought of Y/n. Even if their end had been bittersweet, she was still his 'one.' One true love. One person he wanted to see after a bad day. One voice he wanted to hear when he picked up the phone. "Y/n?" He tilted his head, temporarily abandoning the shelves lined with glassware he was looking at, to hug her quickly. It was short, though, not short enough for it to mean nothing. "You're back”.”

"I'm back," she nodded with a soft huff, righting herself and pulling away from their awkward embrace. He’d felt different and the same; like returning to an old playground and realizing that the magic had gone from childish wonder to aching nostalgia. "Just for the holidays though, after New Years its……"

"Back," he determined as his face fell. Why'd he even let himself think she'd come back for good. Out there was her dream…..L.A…..was just him. And he wasn't enough. "Uh…how-how are your folks? I saw them a couple months ago, they were grocery shopping, but I was in such a hurry, I didn't really get a minute to catch up." What he really meant was that he didn't want to see the look on their faces when they had to stand in conversation with the son-in-law they never had and worst yet, he didn't want them to talk about her, so he could hear how well she was doing without him.

“They’re good. What about your family?” As she spoke, Y/n tried to fight the twinge of regret that accompanied Keanu’s presence. Regret because every time they spoke, the dormant love for him was always reawakened. He told her, a long time ago, that once you started loving someone, if it was real, then it would never go away. And she had learned that he was right the hard way.

Nodding absently, he stuffed his hands into his pockets again, just to occupy them, “They’re good….” they still ask about you. He inhaled softly, not knowing what to say next. It was uncomfortable, before, just a few years ago, Keanu always knew what to say to her, because he could say anything to her. “So how have you been? How’s work? The job?” The job that you left me for.

“I’ve been okay,” Y/n shrugged, trying to muster up a smile, only just realizing that she wasn’t half as happy as she’d been when they were together. “And work’s……its good, the job’s….” not everything it was cracked up to be, especially since it took me away from you, “Its amazing, still can't believe I got it. What about you?” She stuttered, moistening her lips.

Keanu observed her curiously, noting how Y/n’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and how she’d kept anxiously toying with her car keys. She always fiddled when she was nervous. “You sure everything’s okay, Y/n?” It was quite likely that it was no longer his place to ask, worst yet to try to fix things if something was wrong, but Keanu hated knowing that something was bothering her.

He always knew when she was lying. “I…..” Taking a deep breath, Y/n prepared herself to lie anyway, “You know, I’m just….it’s weird to be back, its been a while.”

“Yeah okay,” it was obvious that Y/n wasn’t going to tell him what was going on, not that Keanu could blame her, they had been over for a while by then, she wasn’t obligated to tell him anything. Still, he craved her company and wasn’t willing to let their interaction on such a flustered note. “I don’t know if you have the time, but if you do, maybe we could grab coffee or something, catch up a bit.”

Staring up at him with agape lips and sad eyes, Y/n contemplated for a minute before submitting, she couldn’t imagine saying no anyway, “Sure, okay. I’d like that. The place we usually go to?” She cleared her throat, realizing her mistake as heat rose to her cheeks, “Went to.”

Grinning fondly at her comment, Keanu tried to shake off the memories that the mention of that little coffee shop brought up, they’d had some great times there. “Great,” he determined, deciding that gift shopping could be put on pause for a bit. “It’s not too far from here, we can walk if you’d like.”

“Sounds great.” As they walked, Y/n and Keanu kept a comfortable distance between them. It wasn’t much though, she could still compare his warmth to Los Angeles heat, which had toned down significantly since the start of the holiday season. For a while, the only thing traded between them was silence, though, when they got to the coffee shop, Keanu surprised her by remembering her order to the letter. “You remember,” she mused with a soft soiree, in awe of how he’d held onto the smallest shred of their past.

How was he supposed to tell her that he’d never forget? That he sometimes ordered it for himself, just so the smell could dreg up an innocent memory or two. “You ordered it every time we came here,” he shrugged, glancing away, “And we came here a lot.”

Her gaze weaved through the patrons, eventually finding a wicker table for two near the back of the establishment, with a window view. It was the perfect place for couples to get cozy without receiving judgmental glances and lingering stares. It used to be their table but that afternoon, it was occupied by two strangers who’d never know the history shared between two lovers that had let something so precious escape them. “We did,” she agreed absently, watching the pair share pecks between sips from steaming mugs. That used to be them.

Noticing her far away look, Keanu found what she’d been looking at. The reminder that holding Y/n in his arms like that was now nothing but part of the past stung and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the unknown couple that sat where they once did. “Do you want to walk instead?”

Reluctantly, she nodded, “Sure, lets go.” As they left the shop, Keanu placed his hand on the center of her back in an unconscious gesture and Y/n suppressed a shudder, caught off guard by how instinctively her body had responded by leaning in before her mind could even permit it. “So,” she eased as they walked along the busy streets, shoppers and pedestrians too caught up in their own busy lives to notice that they were brushing shoulders with a celebrity. And it helped that he was wearing sunglasses. “What have you been up to?”

Shaking his shoulders, “You know,” he took a punctuating sip of his scalding coffee, thinking up ways to make his life sound more exciting than it actually was, “Work, hanging out, dating around, that kind of thing,” he offered nonchalantly, subconsciously trying to show her he’d moved on since their split. At least, he’d tried to.

At the mention of dating, Y/n almost choked on a mouthful of coffee, brashly replacing the cup at her lips with a napkin so she wouldn’t make a mess. Dating around, that wasn’t something she was expecting to hear. It was something she particularly wanted to hear either, because what was a casual mention for him brought a landslide of panic for her. Keanu was moving on and one day, he was going to find someone that would choose him in a way she hadn’t. One day he’d be someone else’s. “That’s…..uh….” exhaling loudly, she mustered up a fake smile, “That’s great! I’m….I’m happy that you’re- you’re um...that’s great Ke,” Y/n stuttered.

“Thanks, I think,” he huffed shyly, “But I’m…..I’m not seeing anyone right now.” Apparently he’d developed a habit of oversharing since he’d met with Y/n merely an hour earlier. Perhaps it was solely because telling her everything used to be habitual.

Her head snapped towards him, eyes wide and lips agape. “You’re not?” She breathed, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. When he confirmed, Y/n proceeded without thinking, “That’s great,” internally kicking herself as soon as she heard the words.

“What?” Keanu halted abruptly, only moving once more to step in front of Y/n. His brows were furrowed and he was starting to wonder if he’d heard her correctly.

“I mean….it’s….not great,” taking a deep breath, Y/n desperately sought to slow the erratic thumping in her chest, finding that the quickest remedy was meeting his whiskey orbs. “It’s….fuck,” she sighed, overwhelmed by the surge of buried feelings that had started welling up since they’d hugged. “I mean…..” Again, Y/n trailed off, at a loss for words, “It’s……”

Bringing his hand up to cup her neck, Keanu leaned down, kissing her slowly, letting instinct take over. He knew what she liked; the slow introduction of his tongue, the way it occasionally glazed over hers and a little nibble on her lower lip to keep things a bit rough. She was liking it then too, Keanu could tell by the way she’d stumbled closer, grasping a fistful of his jacket. “Is that what you were trying to say?” Keanu whispered as they broke.

“Yeah,” a glimmer of a smile tugged at her lips as an idea brewed. “What are you doing this weekend?” She asked softly, the tips of their noses still brushing as they held each other close.

“I’m supposed to spend Christmas at my sister’s,” his words said in a tone that was meant to protect their moment, “Why?”

Dragging her lower lip through her teeth, Y/n debated on whether or not she was about to make a fool of herself. But she had to try; returning to Los Angeles had left her craving Keanu’s company and the fact that they were both single had to mean something. “Spend it with me. We could be like this again….just for a little bit.”

“That’s not a good idea,” he resisted, not really wanting to but knowing that it might be in both their best interests if they didn’t go down that road again; she was leaving after the holidays anyway.

“I know,” Y/n sighed wearily, “But don’t you want to anyways? We could pretend that nothing’s changed,” her free arm rounded Keanu’s neck and her fingers twirled the ends of his hair. “Please, just think about it, okay?”

Conflicted and caught between wanting to be with her, if only for a bit and doing what was best for them both, Keanu took a step back, taking his hand off her and consequently urging Y/n to retract her hold on him. “You can’t come here and just expect me to go along with this.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” she argued, “You were the one that kissed me, and I’m just asking you to consider it. Don’t you miss me? Cause I miss you, Keanu.”

“I….” Mulling on her question, Keanu hit his fist to his thigh, shaking his head, “Doesn’t matter, Y/n,” turning, he walked away without saying goodbye, waving dismissively as he melded into the crowd.

Christmas Day Y/n had tried forcing herself into forgetting how things had gone down with Keanu earlier that week, when she’d asked him to spend Christmas together, the way they had when they were both convinced that they were going to be each other’s forever. But she couldn’t, he’d been on her mind constantly, and every time her phone rang, she’d snatch it up in hopes that he’d changed his mind, and every time, when it was work, or even on of her friends, Y/n felt the sting of disappointment dig at her heart.

Five whole days had passed and she was even starting to get used to it; accepting that she had crossed a line and Keanu was right, when on Christmas day, while she was caught in conversation with her father over very strong eggnog, her mother entered the sitting room, grasping the arm of a familiar figure. Her parents had always adored him, they’d hoped she would marry him, let him be the one that fathered their grandbabies and they were so disappointed when it hadn’t worked out. “Look who’s here!” She announced, squeezing Keanu’s bicep affectionately, broad smile plastered on her face.

“Keanu, son! Look who’s here Y/n!” Her father nudged as if she hadn’t already seen him, standing giddy in the doorway, flashing the room with that movie star grin.

“Yeah dad,” she breathed, not believing her eyes. He’d actually come, even after the way things had ended a few days ago. “What…..what’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you sweetheart,” Keanu beamed, slipping away from her mother, approaching Y/n and then bending to kiss the side of her lips. “I thought about what you said,” he whispered, only loud enough for her to hear, “And I miss you too,” he ended his words with another peck, easily wrapping an arm around her shoulders as her family eyed them with confusion. “Y/n invited me, and I was just wondering if that invitation is still open.”

“Of course it is!” Her mother cheered, clapping her hands excitedly, “You know we love having you here Keanu!”

“I’m glad you came,” Y/n shifted in his embrace, standing on her toes so she could peck his cheek, hugging Keanu at the waist. After that, things fell into the way they used to be; like Keanu was part of their family, and for the rest of the evening, he and Y/n had acted as if nothing had changed between them. As if they were still that couple that was so in love that it was hard to believe they’d ever break up. And it was easy to return to being those people too; within an hour together, it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed, to act as if there hadn’t been a fight a few nights before Y/n got on a plane that would whisk her out of his life or Keanu hadn’t called her a week later, drunk out of his mind only to pour his heart out and beg her to come back. It was as if a day hadn’t passed since their last good one and they were still each other’s future.

When presents and dinner was through, and after Keanu had brought a duffle bag up to Y/n’s room and the cool sun had set making way for the glowing moon, he and Y/n had slipped away from the family festivities to go on a walk around the block. They’d shrugged light coats on over their clothes and had linked arms as they strolled up the desolate street, absently staring at the homes illuminated with colorful lights and Christmas decorations. “What made you change your mind?” Y/n probed, nuzzling his arm, subconsciously hoping he wouldn’t change it again.

“I don’t think I did change it,” Keanu mused, keeping his eyes forward, “I was always gonna come. You know me; I can’t seem to stay away from you,” he gently tugged her closer. Being with her like that, it felt like right, like things were finally the way they were supposed to be, “I miss us, you know?”

“Mm hmm,” he she hummed, resting her head on her bicep, letting Keanu guide them forward with complete trust, “I miss us too. You’d like it there,” she said, referring to where she’d started building her new life, trying to keep them from lapsing into silence.

“Yeah?” He kicked a pebble absently, wondering what it would be like if he ever did move. Could he do that? Leave his family back in L.A to be with Y/n? She was worth it, after all, she was the only woman he’d ever seen himself having a future with. “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met that wanted to leave Los Angeles to make it big,” he changed the topic, too fearful to let the thought of leaving behind everything he’d built for himself in California cement itself. Maybe they were selfish, Keanu thought, that was why things couldn’t work out for them; cause neither of them was willing to adjust what they wanted outside of each other.

“I think you might be right,” Y/n chuckled and it wasn’t long before they'd fallen into what she’d dreaded; silence. Back at the house, she had the cover of menial chatter, but on the barren sidewalk, where there was nothing to shroud the heaviness of things that were kept guarded, it was different. The atmosphere was clumsy and she felt a way she never had around Keanu; uncomfortable.

“I’d gotten you something,” he broke the quiet, sounding unsure of himself, “Before you told me you were leaving for the job, I’d gotten you something. Well, technically, it was given to me, for you, I guess.”

Throwing him a curious glance, she urged him to slow down, “I don’t understand,” knitting her brows, Y/n silently pleaded with him to elaborate.

“Your mom,” he explained, “She gave me your grandmother’s ring…”

“You were gonna….” Maybe if she’d known before she would have changed her mind.

“Yeah,” he sighed heavily, reminiscing on how that night had gone. How’d they texted each other excitedly on their way home, how he’d insisted she go first, only to hold himself back when she broke the news that the job might threaten to tear her away from him. Long distance wasn’t for them and Keanu knew that moving wasn’t in the cards for him. “Were you mad at me?” She probed meekly.

Huffing a dry chuckle, Keanu shook his head, “No, when I saw how your eyes lit up when you told me about it, all I wanted was for you to be happy, even if that meant it wouldn’t be here, with me.”

“I was happy with you,” they stopped, and turned to face each other, hands still tangled, and unchecked tears threatening to spill over as her voice broke, “I think I was happier with you.”

“I know,” his tone was low and husky as Keanu stepped closer, muting the few inches of space between them. She didn’t need to ask how he did and Keanu had no cause to explain; they knew each other better than most ever would; he could pick up on her faked smiles from a mile away. “Would it be wrong if I asked you to stay?”

Still trying to fight the wave of emotion, Y/n looked at their interlocked fingers, frowning at how well they worked together. No other hands would ever feel like that, and she’d long made peace with the fact. “Would it be wrong if I asked you to wait?”

Closing his eyes, he bent lower to press his forehead to hers, letting her scent tickle his senses. It was as if he was trying to freeze himself in time, so he’d be forever basking in the sweet smell of her perfume and the comfort of her touch while the warmth that radiated between them, tethering him to her was one he was sure he could never remember to its exact perfection. Why couldn’t things be easier? “I’m sorry,” he shuddered, letting his breaths be captured by her quivering lips.

“It’s my fault,” Y/n exhaled, sniffling, “But at least we have right now, right?”

Keanu hugged her low at the waist, burning his face in Y/n’s hair while she sought refuge in the crook of his neck, “Yeah,” hot tears made their slow journey down his his cheek, and he could feel moisture soaking his t shirt where Y/n had buried her face, “At least we have now.”

Even if it would never be enough, for now, it was all they had.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #tis the damn season #angst #john wick #holiday fic #kind of

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hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

Text

The Dirty Text Challenge

Summary: “I told you, Emma, you should try it!” Mary Margaret screeches through the phone.

Emma pulls the device away from her ear, lest she go half-deaf by the sheer volume of her sister-in-law’s voice. “And I told you, I’m not doing that,” she protests, leaning back against the wall of the corridor outside the restrooms.

“Why not? You’ll be able to see how interested he is without having to tell him how you feel to his face.”

“But what if he's not?”

“Oh Emma, do you really not know your best friend? He’s interested, trust me!”

“Has he said anything to you or David?”

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean he’s not interested in you. It just means he’s not interested in getting clocked in the face by your brother.”

Notes: This is a birthday gift for my good friend, @onceuponaprincessworld. Thank you for always being supportive and encouraging and, well, for putting up with me :) Hope you have an awesome day, love!

Inspired by the Dirty Text Challenge on Tik Tok that was trending awhile back, where you send a dirty text to your significant other and record his reaction when he reads it. There was one video in particular that made me want to write this for CS, and it was by realkayjane. She posted a video of her best friend reading a text she sent him in a bar, and then they started dating. It very well could've been staged, or maybe not, I honestly don't know. Nevertheless, I wanted to write it, so here it is. And if you're interested to see what the text says, no worries, I've included a flashback at the end ;)

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for being so kind and for looking it over at the last minute!

Rated: Explicit

Also Available on: AO3 FF.N

Killian’s phone vibrates from his pants pocket for the second time since he’s been at The Rabbit Hole that evening, but he continues to ignore it. What could possibly be more important than hanging out with his best friend at their favorite bar anyhow?

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

“It can wait,” Killian says, waving off her question and taking a swig of his rum.

“It might be important.”

Killian glances up at her from over the rim of his tumbler.

More important than being with you?

Unlikely.

His phone vibrates once more, but he still doesn’t move to retrieve it.

She cocks her brow, giving that castigating look. A look that tells him he should answer his phone.

So he sighs and reluctantly digs it out, seeing three text messages from the same person.

Unknown: Hey Killian. It’s Tina. David gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind.

He groans.

Yes, I do mind. Bloody hell, Dave, why did you have to give her my number?

Unknown: Are you free tonight?

Definitely not.

Unknown: You can come over if you want.

He’s never even been on a single date with Tina.

Killian thinks about how he will politely decline.

“Who is it? If it’s David, I swear, he better either be in jail or the hospital if he’s interrupting our evening.”

Killian’s cheeks heat with blush, and he has to suppress the smile threatening his lips.

She said our evening .

Killian scratches behind his ear, reluctant to tell her the texts are from some woman David’s trying to set him up with. “Uh, it’s… it’s no one.”

Emma grins, clearly not buying it. “Doesn’t seem like no one. You’re blushing.”

Not for the reasons you probably think.

He chuckles nervously. “Truly, it’s no one important.”

Emma cocks her head to the side.

Damn her for knowing him so well. For being able to tell when someone is lying to her. Tina is really no one important to him—he barely knows her, if at all. He spoke to her one time, and that was when David introduced her to him. They chatted for all of ten seconds. So he’s not exactly lying to Emma. But she thinks he’s blushing over the person sending him the texts. She doesn't know she is the one he is blushing over.

He's about to slip his phone into his pocket, but before he can, Emma grabs his arm with one hand and steals the device with her other one. She's so quick and smooth, he doesn’t have time to stop her.

Killian gulps as she checks his phone.

Her eyes light up with amusement when she sees the messages from Tina and reads them out loud. Then she looks up at him, raising her brow. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

Killian reaches over the table and plucks the phone from her hands with a heavy sigh. “She’s not my girlfriend. Your brother is trying to set me up with her.”

She picks up her strawberry daiquiri, knitting her brows in confusion. “Sounds like you’ve already hooked up with her.” She brings the glass to her lips, taking a sip as he watches her intently.

“We haven't even been on one date.”

She nods, lowering her drink as she swallows. “So, are you going over to her place?”

He wishes he could read minds right now because he can’t tell if she’s asking about Tina because she’s just curious or if she's asking because she’s jealous.

Definitely the first option, he thinks.

He shakes his head. “Of course not.” A small smile plays at his lips. “Why would I go to her place when I’m already with my favorite person in the entire world?”

Emma’s cheeks paint with blush as she sets her drink down and crosses her arms on the tabletop. “Because obviously you’d be getting laid.”

“Well, you know me, Emma. I’m too much of a gentleman to just go over to a woman’s home who I barely know and get my rocks off.”

She smirks and teases him playfully. “I know. So are you at least going to ask her on a date?”

He stares at Emma for a moment, trying to figure out how to properly answer her question without baring his soul to her. So he settles on a flat-out lie. “I haven’t decided yet.”

He hates this.

He hates not being able to tell his best friend he’s madly in love with her.

And he’d nearly blurted it out over an intense game of Mario Kart a few days ago.

“Fuck me!” Emma whines after losing another round against him and nearly throwing the controller across the room (she probably would have if David hadn’t plucked it from her hands).

Killian is busy trying to recover from her expletives and how her words had shot straight through him. He knows he should just keep his mouth shut, because, for one... her brother is in the room and two… well, he would very much like to take her up on that offer. No actually, he doesn’t want that, and that’s the problem. He wants so much more than that. He’s had so many fantasies about being with Emma, but they all involve things like taking her out on a proper date, holding her hand, kissing her, making love to her. So no, he doesn’t want to fuck her. He wants a future with her, one which involves being more than her best friend. Gods, he wants so much more than that. But he’s not willing to give up any less than what he already has. So, instead of revealing his true feelings, he covers them up with a playful quip. “Is that an invitation, love?”

The look she gives him makes his heartbeat quicken, one corner of her lips curving up into a shy smirk, her cheeks reddening as he feels David’s stare burning into him.

“Why? You offering?” she retorts.

Killian stares at his best friend in shock, his mouth slightly agape. “Maybe I a — ”

Before he can finish his reply, David threatens him with a deadly glare and cuts him off. “No, it’s not an invitation and no, he’s not offering,” he answers for both of them.

And that is one of the other reasons why Killian hasn’t had the guts to tell Emma how he really feels. Okay, it’s the main reason. Because not only could it destroy his friendship with her, but also his friendship with her brother.

Emma scowls at David and snatches the controller from his hands. “Who died and made you king?”

David mimics her in a whiny voice and Emma retaliates by shoving him in the arm.

“Ow!” He rubs the spot where she'd hit him, and sticks his tongue out at her. “Brat.”

She does it back. “Dork.”

Killian chuckles . He's always thouroughly entertained by their little sibling squabbles.

“One more game, Jones?” Emma asks him.

And that was that. They played another round, which she won, and neither of them spoke of the words exchanged that night.

Which makes tonight pretty awkward, considering it’s the first time Killian’s actually been alone with Emma since then. Well, if you consider sitting together in a booth at a crowded bar, alone. So to dial down the awkward tension between them, Killian keeps the drinks coming so the alcohol will ease the nerves in his stomach.

But the problem with alcohol is the effects it has.

The first one is giggliness.

Emma is adorable when she’s sober, but when she’s drunk, she is extra adorable. She can’t say three words in a row without giggling.

That effect, mixed with the second one, is bound to lead to things he’s not sure he’s prepared for. Especially not while they’re drunk.

Oversharing.

Not that they don’t already know everything there is to know about each other, but when he’s trying to keep his biggest secret from his best friend… well, that presents quite the problem when he’s drunk. At least he still has enough presence of mind to know how much to overshare.

“Must be nice to have women throwing themselves at you, Jones. I swear, if it wasn’t for my vibrator, I’d probably have cobwebs!” she exclaims over the noisy bar chatter.

Killian shudders at the images her confession is supplying him with. He’s certainly not imagining her using said vibrator. And he’s fairly certain she wouldn’t have to worry about cobwebs if she didn’t have a vibrator. Emma could have any man she wanted. He’s one of them. “I’m definitely not getting laid as often as you make it sound,” he retorts with a chuckle. “Or as much as I’d like to.”

“Please!” she snorts. “You could have your cock licked by every woman at this bar with a snap of your fingers if you wanted to.”

Testing her theory, he snaps his fingers and looks around. “Where are they, love?” Not that he has any interest to get his cock licked by anyone at this bar. Or anyone, really. Anyone except the gorgeous blonde sitting across from him with the most beautiful emerald green eyes he’s ever seen and a smile that sets his heart on fire as she bursts out laughing.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just being honest,” he says before draining the last of his rum.

She taps her empty glass with her nails. “One more round?”

He nods and raises his hand to summon the server.

“But first, I have to pee. My bladder is about to burst.” She rises from the booth, and he follows her with his eyes as she makes her way to the restrooms.

~*~

Emma’s a bit lightheaded as she leaves the ladies' room, but not nearly as much as she’s led on. She was hoping to drop hints to Killian without repelling him. But she’s afraid she’s completely failing. How does one exactly go about telling her best friend of five years she’s completely in love with him?

She has no fucking clue.

“I told you, Emma, you should try it!” Mary Margaret screeches through the phone.

“Why not? You’ll be able to see how interested he is without having to tell him how you feel to his face.”

“But what if he's not?”

“Oh Emma, do you really not know your best friend? He’s interested, trust me!”

“Has he said anything to you or David?”

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean he’s not interested in you. It just means he’s not interested in getting clocked in the face by your brother.”

“And if you’re wrong? Then what?”

Mary Margaret sighs. “If I’m wrong—which I’m definitely not—then you can just tell him you meant to send the text to someone else.”

“But who? I just told him I have an exclusive relationship with my vibrator.”

“Then maybe one of your past flings? I don’t know, Emma, you’ll come up with something. But I’m like one hundred and ten percent sure you won’t have to.”

Emma sighs in exasperation and defeat. “Fine, but if this ends badly, I’m only blaming you.”

She can almost hear her sister-in-law’s grin from the other line, even though she can’t see her. “Fine. If I’m wrong, I'll take full responsibility. In fact, if I’m wrong, I’ll buy you grilled cheese sandwiches every day for an entire year.”

Hmmm, that does sound appealing.“With onion rings?”

“I’ll buy you the whole freaking menu at Granny’s if you want.”

“Okay,” Emma laughs. “And if you’re right, what do you want?”

“If I’m right, I will already have everything I could possibly want.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, besides your brother, obviously, the knowledge that you and Killian will live happily ever after, of course.”

Emma’s heart warms at her sister-in-law’s sentiment. If only love could be that simple. Just offer her heart to Killian and receive his in return. But this isn’t some fairytale or romance novel where the heroine rides off into the sunset with her handsome hero. This is real life. “Okay.” Suddenly the idea of what she’s about to do makes her heart flitter in panic. “So I’m actually doing this?”

“You’re doing this. And you won’t regret it. Now put on your big girl pants and go get your man.”

After they end the call, Emma lowers the phone from her ear and with shaky hands, pulls up her text conversations with Killian. She sucks in a deep breath and releases it slowly, her breath wobbly. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she types a text with shaky fingers, erases it, retypes it and repeats that cycle three more times before she’s satisfied with the message. At first, she didn’t want to send anything to Killian that she wouldn’t be able to defend and say it was meant for someone else. But then she thought, screw it. She can blame it on the alcohol.

For years, she’s been wanting to tell her best friend how she really feels about him, and when she finally scrounged up the courage to tell Mary Margaret, her sister-in-law suggested this hair-brained scheme she came up with after watching these trending Tik Tok videos of women sending their boyfriends or husbands dirty texts in public and recording their reactions. Since Killian isn’t her boyfriend or husband, Mary Margaret thought it would be a great idea to find out whether he likes her or not. Or rather, prove to a stubborn Emma he’s secretly in love with her.

Well, she’s about to find out. Here goes nothing...

She peers around the corner of the hallway entrance and does a quick check to make sure he didn't leave and go into the men's room or something. When she spots him across the room, still sitting at their booth, she sends off the text. Then she quickly pulls up the camera on her phone and starts recording, her heart pounding. It’s pounding so loud she can hear it in her ears over the loud music and boisterous bar chatter.

His phone lights up on the table and he sets down his tumbler to pick up the device.

Emma watches him with bated breath, hoping and praying this wasn’t a mistake. Hoping his reaction won’t be the same reaction he had when he received those texts from Tina. Emma had done her best to hide her emotions when she saw that skank’s text messages. She had to swallow her words and shove down her jealousy, but when she remembered that look of irritation written all over Killian’s face as he read those texts, she realized why he was irritated. Needless to say, she was relieved beyond belief.

Through her phone, Emma watches as Killian’s mouth falls open, his eyes big and wide as he stares at his screen.

Emma has no idea what he’s thinking right now, but she really wishes she did. Is he happy, excited, turned on? Or is he pissed off, disappointed, disgusted? She’s usually pretty good at reading her best friend, but right now it’s like trying to read a blank page.

He lifts his head and looks toward the restrooms, so she quickly retreats inside the hallway, keeping her phone in place so it’s still recording him. She presses her back against the wall, as though the opposite wall is closing in on her, and she’s trying to draw in as much air into her lungs before she’s suffocated to death.

Shit, shit, shit.

What if Mary Margaret’s plan didn’t work? What if Emma scared him away?

Cautiously and carefully, she turns her head and looks around the corner again.

To her utter horror, Killian is not in the booth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did she send him the text?

In panic mode, Emma brings her hand back and stops recording as she flattens against the wall again and contemplates shooting Killian another text saying she sent the text by mistake.

She starts typing out a message.

Emma: Sorry, that text was for someone else. Ooops, my bad.

But then she sees the text she'd sent and realizes she made it impossible to say it wasn’t meant for him because of what the text said.

Nope, she definitely can’t talk her way out of that one.

Before she can erase the message and type out how sorry she is, her phone is being slipped from her hands.

She’s about to lose her shit when she looks up and gasps as her eyes meet vivid blue ones.

Killian’s looking at her with a hungry—no, primal—stare.

And just like that, all of her oncoming anger melts away.

Emma can’t move. She can’t speak, she can’t even breathe. This man has impaired her ability to do anything other than stare back at him, waiting for him to speak. Her stomach is clenching and her heart is racing under the heaviness of his stare.

She doesn’t even give two flying fucks when he slips her phone into his pocket.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leans into her space and murmurs in her ear. “You said I could have any woman in the bar licking my cock at a snap of my fingers...” His voice is decadent and drops an octave when he speaks again. “What if I told you, you could have one man licking your pussy at the snap of yours?”

She gulps hard and just stares at him in shock. He’s joking, right? But she’s known him for five years and can’t detect a single trace of mocking in his words.

Without breaking her challenging stare, she lifts her hand.

And snaps her fingers.

Without hesitation or any preconceived thought, Killian takes her hand in his and leads her into the ladies' room, locking the door behind them. He backs her against the sink and draws her into his arms, a wave of desire so profound sweeping through her, it leaves her trembling in his muscular arms, clinging to his body like a lifeline. When he lifts her up and sets her on the edge of the sink, their mouths find each other, their lips moving with a need that burns like a fire inside them both. She slides her arms around his neck, her lips fused to his, her tongue swirling and exploring his mouth as her breasts are pressed deliciously against his chest.

Killian holds her flush against him, his tongue mingling with hers in a sensual ballet of lips and flesh that leaves them both panting. She moans softly into his mouth as he rubs at her back, squeezing one of her ass cheeks in his free hand.

She can’t believe she’s actually kissing Killian. Her best friend. And he is every bit the kisser she knew he would be. His tongue flicks against hers so expertly and he’s groaning, his guttural sounds vibrating through her, shivers running down her spine, her skin tingling all over. Her stomach is coiled in anticipation at the thought of that same tongue on her pussy.

Oh God.

She needs that tongue on her like she needs air to breathe. As much alcohol as she’s had, the only thing fogging her mind is the lust and pleasure coursing through her veins. She’s now drunk on something else entirely. And it’s on the man who is currently breaking the kiss and leaving her a panting, breathless mess as he slides his lips over her jawline and down her neck, the scruff on his chin scratching her so deliciously.

As she’s still trying to recover from that kiss—as if she could—she’s so glad she wore a dress tonight. As he leaves a trail of kisses along her collarbone, he pulls the straps down her arms, yanks down the top of her dress and pushes her black, lacy bra cups out of the way, exposing her breasts. As he’s admiring her naked breasts in wonderment, as he's squeezing them in his firm hands, making her nipples harden, she's admiring him and blushing profusely.

Fuck.

When he caresses a hard bud with his lips, Emma moans, and when he draws the same nipple into his mouth, she runs her hands through his hair, enjoying how soft and warm his mouth is against her sensitive skin, a breath exploding between her lips. He kisses his way to her other breast, giving the same treatment. She can feel how hard he is through his jeans, and it’s making her so much wetter than she already was. To her relief, he’s grabbing her dress and hauling it up her legs, seeking access she’s definitely willing to grant him. She helps him move the hem of her dress to her stomach, exposing her black, lacy thong. He leaves bruising kisses on her lower belly and inner thighs as he slides her panties off.

When he’s on his knees and his gorgeous face is between her thighs, he looks up at her, those intense blue eyes stealing her breath as he gently slides his lips up her leg, giving her time to push him away if she desired. A completely unnecessary precaution.

She leans back, gripping the edge of the sink as she drapes one leg over his shoulder and pushes him to her.

The soft, warm air of his chuckles hits her glistening folds and sends a shiver up her spine. “Patience, love.” He presses gentle kisses to her nub, her folds, and noses her slit, breathing in slowly, taking in her unique scent. Emma’s incapable of being patient, though; she can almost feel his tongue on her as he wraps his arms around her, urging her to lean back a little more so he has full access to her.

Finally, his tongue hits her flesh, taking a thorough exploration between her folds until he finds exactly what he’s searching for. She dips her head back, hitting the back of it against the mirror, her hands clutching at the top of his head for purchase. Her eyelids fall shut, soft moans pouring from her mouth as his tongue works so skillfully on her bundle of nerves. She opens her eyes so she can watch him as he licks her good and hard, and she lifts one of her legs to the edge of the counter so she’s spread out like a feast before him. She tugs gently on his hair, urging him closer and she can tell he doesn’t mind, because he's growling and puckering his lips, drawing her clit into his soft, warm mouth, making her tremble. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever witnessed, and she’s wondering who’s enjoying this more, him or her.

When he glances up, his eyes are boring into hers, and she can feel him smiling against her folds when he sees how wrecked she is with her best friend’s tongue between her legs. Those sparkling blue eyes are piercing through her soul and she can’t find the strength to tear her gaze from his. It’s so fucking hot watching him eating her out. Watching him take his sweet time bringing her close to the very edge before pulling away and then bringing her back. It’s like watching the waves of the ocean moving in and lapping the shoreline before ebbing away. His tongue lapping her up and then withdrawing. In and out, in and out, over and over, increasing in intensity and speed each time, until she’s a complete mess, until she’s arching her back and fisting tufts of his hair and tugging him closer, begging for him to finish her off.

“Killian… please…” she moans breathlessly, helpless against the mirror and completely at his mercy.

The alcohol certainly doesn’t help; it had made her incredibly more horny. Meaning every inch of her is more sensitive. So, Killian suckling on her clit and lapping her up as if his life depends on it is bound to push her over the edge and make her crumble into a million pieces very soon.

And he does so effortlessly.

God, he does.

“Killian!” Emma screams, hoping the loud music and chatter of the bar are drowning out her sounds of ecstasy as she falls apart. She falls so hard, she’s thankful Killian’s hands are gripping her thighs, holding her in place, because otherwise she’d be on the floor right now. Literally.

When she comes back to reality, her body is still twitching. Killian is pressing soft, wet kisses to her nub and each of her thighs, and there’s fire in his eyes as he rises and sucks her essence off his fingers.

She can taste herself on his lips when he kisses her. And she melts again, arousal shooting through her once more. But as airy as she feels, she somehow musters the strength to push him back, fumble for his belt, tug down his pants and sink to her knees.

Holy hell.

His cock is glorious.

Thick and throbbing, pointing at her, almost beckoning her forward.

“Snap your fingers,” she says, smirking up at him.

He manages a grin and doesn’t argue.

When he snaps his fingers, she wraps her hand around his stiff length and strokes him slowly, a deep, soft moan escaping her lips. He feels fucking amazing in her hand.

He draws in a sharp breath when she kisses his velvety tip. Then she leans in and licks up his entire length, making him gasp.

“Good… Gods… Emma.”

His thick shaft is glistening with her saliva, and Killian bites his lower lip as he looks at her, trying to hold back the urge to lose himself too soon. She smiles, encouraged by his palpable excitement, and wraps her wet lips around his cock. The tip of him slides easily into her mouth, and she sucks on him greedily, bobbing her head a few times before removing her hand, grabbing his hips and taking him in deeper. Killian lets out a deep, guttural groan, reaching down to cup her cheeks in his hands. Emma hums gently around him while allowing his cock to slide back and forth past her lips, not enough to escape her mouth, but enough to build up some friction.

“Fu-uck! That feels incredible, love…” he groans, his voice completely wrecked.

The sounds of his breathing grow louder with each passing minute. Her arousal builds inside her again while she takes him deep, letting his belled tip almost slip free from her mouth before taking him in again. She can’t refrain from smiling around his cock, knowing she’s subjecting him to the same torture he put her through.

Emma massages his balls in her fingers and increases her speed, taking him into her mouth deeper and faster and harder. Killian’s hands are threading through her hair and he’s groaning loudly, thrusting his hips, seeking release. And she’s finally ready to give it to him. She moans around him and takes his perfect buttcheek in her free hand, taking him roughly, letting him fuck her mouth until his hot seed is spurting down her throat and he’s gripping her hair tightly and his legs are shaking.

“Gods, Emma… that was…”

The knock on the bathroom door pulls them both back to reality. Emma quickly swallows his cum down her throat and licks her lips as she rises. They reassemble themselves quicker than they would’ve preferred. They right their clothes, tame their hair and walk out of the restroom like everything’s perfectly normal, ignoring the looks they’re getting from the female patron who’s outside the door waiting to use the restroom.

Killian and Emma are laughing as he pays their tab and they’re still giggling as they stumble out of the bar.

They take an uber to Killian’s apartment and the keys he drops on the floor is only the beginning of the trail they leave behind as they make their way to his bedroom. A jacket, one shoe, Killian’s sweater, another shoe, another jacket, her bra, her dress, her wet panties… they don’t even break the kiss to fling their clothes to the floor, and their lips are still connected when they make it to the room and fall into Killian’s bed.

Emma can’t believe that after five years she’s finally making love to this man, making love several times in several different positions, and when they’re both completely sapped, their heads are falling against the pillows and he’s kissing the back of her hand and asking her on a date.

~*~

Once they're not both in bed or out on their first official date (they wait until they go back to her place to begin any more enjoyable activities this time), Emma finally gets to watch the video of Killian’s reaction to the dirty text she’d sent him two days prior.

And what she sees fills her with so much happiness, she can’t stop smiling.

And when she uploads the video on Tik Tok, it goes viral.

~*~

Killian sighs heavily into his hands. He’s such an idiot. He needs to just man up and tell Emma how he feels. But if it were really that easy, then he would’ve done it five years ago, right?

The sound of his phone vibrating against the table drags him from his reverie and he lifts his face from his hands and picks up his phone.

It’s a text message from Emma.

Emma: I have a confession. I didn’t actually have to pee. All that talk of licking your cock made me so wet. Made it difficult to sit across from you instead of crawling underneath the table and licking your cock.

Killian groans, his cock actually twitching when he reads her text.

Fuck.

He’s completely stunned. He doesn’t even know how to react or feel about her text. Is she serious? Is she joking? Is it the alcohol?

A million questions race through his mind and when he’s finally able to peel his eyes from his phone screen, he looks across the bar toward the restrooms. He’s half expecting to find her watching him from a distance to catch his reaction but she’s nowhere in sight. He looks at his phone again and reads her text again. A slow smile creeps across his lips at the thought of Emma crawling underneath the table to suck him off.

Bloody hell.

Suddenly he feels very warm and grabs the drink menu to fan himself. Did they turn on the heat in here?

He blows out a laden breath and slips the phone into his pocket, trying to recover from how turned on he is. The thought of Emma’s sweet, pink lips wrapped around his hard, aching cock makes him painfully hard. And he’s pretty sure his arousal is written all over his face. But he also wonders what this means.

Was she sending him an invitation?

Does she want him to take action? Is she wanting him to meet her in the restroom?

He’s not sure, but he’s not about to let this opportunity slip from his fingers. Killian sets down the menu, drags a hand through his hair and gets up before he can talk himself out of it.

Fuck.

Is he actually going to the ladies’ room to get his dick sucked?

Nah, while the thought of having Emma’s mouth on his cock is awfully enticing, he has other ideas in mind.

As he approaches the hallway, he can see Emma on her phone. He suddenly becomes nervous and completely terrified.

Holy hell.

Is he actually doing this?

He keeps moving his feet, breaking through his stubborn wall of fear that’s held him back all this time. He breaks through the wall of anxiety and nerves that have weighed him down.

He takes another deep breath, steps into her space and snatches the phone from her hand, hoping and praying this isn’t a huge mistake.

If it was a mistake, then it was the best mistake he’s ever made. Because not only does he get to be with his best friend—the woman of his dreams—but her brother doesn’t completely hate him. David wasn't happy at first, but he’s slowly getting used to the idea of his best buddy dating his sister.

And Mary Margaret is overjoyed. But she's been acting very peculiar ever since he began dating Emma. Every time they meet Mary Margaret and David for lunch, the petite brunette always says without fail, “Guess what time it is?” After Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes, Mary Margaret always has the same answer to her own question: “It’s time for you to buy your own grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings.”

Which is strange because, being the gentleman his mum raised him to be, he always foots the bill whenever he takes Emma out to eat.

What's even more puzzling is that Mary Margaret suddenly stops saying it after a year.

David's wife sure is an odd one.

Tagging: @itsfabianadocarmo @ilovemesomekillianjones @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @searchingwardrobes @gingerchangeling @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @superchocovian

Sorry if I missed anyone, I’m very sleepy at the moment and have a long, early day tommorrow, so I’m posting this before I sleep.

#captain swan #cs ff #onceuponaprincessworld #dirty text challenge #cs smut #my fic

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heoneyology · 4 years ago

Text

simply human | l.jy

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday for halloween so uhh happy late halloween look at me I’m trying to write again! it’s not spooky so I guess posting it today isn’t a huge deal, still fits the season... based loosely on this story idea.

Word Count: 6866

Genre: catboy!juyeon, warlock!juyeon, fluff, lightly implied romance

Pairing: reader (gender neutral) x lee juyeon (the boyz)

Warnings: mentions of magic though nothing used... uhh... very slowly paced is a warning as well (like there’s barely any juyeon wtf was I doing???), also I have a habit of trailing things off at the end of my writings and leaving things to the reader’s imagination after sorry :’))

Summary: Lee Juyeon is possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in town—his looks being favored by everyone who lays their eyes on him—but he has one thing working against him: He’s a warlock. In the city, those who practice magic are just thought of as normal, everyday people. But in smaller towns, they’re thought of as bad luck and archaic. It’s a bias that you’ll never quite understand, and thus you watch the handsome boy who visits the coffee shop you work at daily, admiring him from afar. You’d never have guessed he was leading a quiet double life...

A deep sigh falls past your lips, one that seems to come straight from the depths of your chest—maybe even deeper. It holds something that words can’t quite express; stresses, longing, and a confusion you aren’t sure how to work past. Next to you, the black cat who is just an arm’s length away stirs. It peeps one eye open as your breath travels through the blades of grass, passing through before ghosting over the cat’s fur. It tickles, and felines don’t much like things that tickle.

You’d been watching the cat this entire time, so when it cracks a single amber eye open to fixate on you, you suck in the breath you’d just let out, freezing in place. Waiting, wondering. Had you somehow deterred away your latest friend and most recent confidant?

“Sorry,” you whisper to the cat, wondering if that will somehow remedy the situation.

The cat’s ears flicker in response, and that single amber eye closes.

You’d dealt with many cats before that. For many, as soon as you even so much as had your fingertips graze their fur the wrong way, they’d go scurrying off. Some even liked to lash out. This cat, however, was a curious little fellow—you were fairly certain it was a fellow—it liked to lay just out of your reach, near you, whenever you came to sit underneath the maple tree in the warm afternoons; on days when the sun was just peaking at its highest before dipping down below the horizon. Now that autumn was in full force, days were growing shorter and the warmth which you sought by the sun and the maple—a space to think freely and escape your worries—was also growing shorter as the chill of the oncoming winter began to set in earlier and earlier each day.

The cat seemed to have the same idea as you, seeking out the tree for afternoon naps and letting you rant your heart away. Somehow, it almost seemed as if the feline was listening to you—but not just listening, understanding, as well. The little black feline would fix you with a gaze that was so deep and knowing, you sometimes felt as if you were oversharing. Whenever the cat met your eyes, you could feel your heart seize up in your chest; the idea of the creature somehow understanding what you were saying causing you to panic and double back, wondering if your thoughts were safe with the little cat.

But the comfort the cat brought was something that couldn’t be matched by the company of your friends and family. It was nice to have someone to just talk to and listen, someone that didn’t reply all the time. Even if that someone wasn’t exactly a human. Even if that someone happened to have some human-like personality traits that left you wondering. Cats were intelligent, though, so you never found yourself questioning it too much.

After some time, you push yourself up into a sitting position from where you lay on your side in the grass, letting out another long sigh. This time, your breath doesn’t even so much as reach the cat. However, your presence shifting causes the small animal to stir, letting out a ‘mrrmph’ and stretching out of the ball it had been curled into, rolling over onto its side. The cat lazily blinks up at you, before licking a paw and swiping it over its face, repeating the action and grooming itself.

“This is why my mom told me not to move away to a small town like this. She called me a romantic for trying to follow my dreams—be a writer, live in a cozy space unknown to the world and basically off the grid.” Instead of sighing, you scoff this time. “Little did she know I’d actually become a romantic and fall in love with someone who doesn’t even know I exist… or maybe she did know. Moms seem to somehow know everything…”

You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. “I can’t believe I spilled that all over him this morning—I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow.”

Before one emotion can even settle, you’re letting out another groan and falling back into the grass again. You hit the ground with a slight thud. Next to you, the cat startles in surprise, but doesn’t move.

“I have to be up for seven… I have to open the shop… ugh I hate opening shifts, that’s too early. We saw what happened today! I didn’t even get enough sleep and then that disaster unfolded!”

From next to you, the cat watches as you work through your turmoil of thoughts and emotions for the third time since coming to the maple tree. Before one can settle, another begins, and so your distraught cycle repeats itself yet again. The cat had already heard the story, about how you’d gotten next to no sleep last night—finally finding a strike of muse and mistakenly staying up until almost four in the morning to write the wave out—and had to open the coffee shop at which you work at seven on the dot that same morning. Your crush, the one and only Lee Juyeon—a noteworthy bachelor in town whose presence wasn’t very welcomed, though his looks were practically revered—had entered the shop. Amidst your foggy, sleep-deprived state, you’d clumsily perfected his order, then proceeded to spill it down the front of his clothes.

It was a minor mishap. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it wasn’t something that one should trouble themselves over this much. Although, of course, one had to consider the fact that Juyeon being dashingly handsome, with strong features and a soft smile; as well as being your crush, were added factors that had to be considered in the equation.

The cat still found it ridiculous, as cats often do of human matters.

You push yourself into a sitting position again, with a bit more determination in your shoulders this time. The cat barely pauses its grooming session as you turn to address it, despite not needing to. “I need to go. I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Despite knowing that the outcome will be futile, you reach out slowly and attempt to stroke the cat with the back of your hand, as a final goodbye before the two of you meet again. But this time, the cat reacts to your proximity—instantaneously cutting its grooming session short by jumping to its feet and away from you. The feline cuts you a look, giving itself a shake, before it trots off.

It had been two weeks now, so you had been hopeful something had changed between you and the cat. But, cats were fickle creatures, and although your feline friend proved to be a good confidant and equally welcomed your silent company—that’s all it wanted at the moment, was some company. A part of you wondered if something kept the cat from being friendlier, even after you’d proven you weren’t going to push or rush any affection received, such as a trauma or unpleasant experience. You weren’t too certain that was the case, though, considering the cat wasn’t wary or scared—just indifferent.

“Get home safe,” is your last goodbye to the cat, spoken into the emptiness around you which is only broken up by the evening breeze whistling through the autumn leaves.

—

Thankfully, you get enough sleep that night. When you get home, the tiredness hits you like a giant wave, and there’s not even an ounce of temptation to continue your writing as there had been the night before. When the next day arrives, you’re much more bright-eyed and alert. Opening the coffee shop goes smooth, as does the passing of the first few customers you have.

After the first hour of being open, like clockwork, Juyeon walks through the door of the little cafe at eight. And, like clockwork, your coworker lets out a grunt under their breath and nudges you with their elbow.

“Can you take over the cash register?”

You frown, studying them, then glancing back at Juyeon as he slowly nears the counter. A few guests cut him unfriendly looks, others stare in awe. You should be used to this, by now, but you aren’t. Growing up in the city, you hadn’t realized what kind of bias there would be in smaller, more rural areas for Juyeon’s kind—as those around here called it. He practiced magic, which in the city was a common occurrence. Being so populated, it was easy to pass someone by and not really know whether they were a witch or a warlock. They were just simply human.

But here, it was like some sort of blight. Where witches and warlocks were far and few between, it was misunderstood, and thus not welcomed. People didn’t like change, or that which they didn’t understand.

If only people could be more like cats—indifferent to those things that surrounded them which caused no harm, despite how different it might be.

Your coworker hadn’t waited for your answer, disappearing, and you have no choice but to take over the cash register. Despite the repeated normalcy of this specific situation, it’s still something you really don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Juyeon stops in front of the counter and studies the menu above, just as you step forward and wish him a good morning. He glances down at you, gives a small smile, and then glances back up at the menu. He’s been here enough times since you’d moved to town that you know he’ll order the same thing he gets every day. For some reason, though, he still likes to idle a bit and study the menu. Maybe because there’s seasonal flavors to consider trying, despite always defaulting to the comfort pick. Or maybe he’s buffering his mind for the day—a sentiment you felt you could relate to.

“Can I get my usual?” Juyeon asks, pulling his eyes away from the menu with another smile.

You return his smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Although you try to stay calm, you can hear your heart beating much too loudly in your chest, replaying the events from the day before in your head. You try not to outwardly cringe as the scene from yesterday replays itself in your mind; then try further to shut the memories out, though not visibly show your internal struggle—choosing to focus instead on the fact that despite not being weary-eyed that morning, your hand is shaking as you lift it to the register to punch in Juyeon’s order, and you need to make it stop.

It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the regular customer, though you aren’t aware that he even does notice until you’re serving him his coffee. Your coworker has conveniently cooped themselves up in the back to clean and stock. That leaves you left alone to prepare Juyeon’s drink, and you’re grateful there isn’t a rush at that moment.

When you step up to the counter to call out his name and hand over the drink, you’re straining your arm to keep your hand from shaking too badly—paranoid over a repeat from yesterday. As he takes his drink with a smile and a thank you, his fingers brush over yours. You glance up in surprise at him, wondering if he even noticed the skin contact.

Meeting his gaze, you’re aware that he is, in fact, aware of what has happened. He softens his smile—if that’s even possible. His sharp features are always the softest when he comes in during the mornings and hands out smiles to the people around him. Despite the stark contrast of how the townsfolk treat Juyeon in comparison to how he treats them, you’ve never once seen the smile on his face falter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about yesterday,” he states kindly. “Accidents happen. Stop shaking so badly out of nerves, or you’ll really end up spilling my coffee again.”

A flush immediately over takes your face, and you pull your hand back like the snap of a rubber band—luckily Juyeon already has hold of his drink, or it would have come crashing down to the counter below.

“S-s-s-sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, I’m only joking. Like I said, accidents happen, and clothes can be washed,” Juyeon chuckles. You swear the sound makes your heart seize up in your chest—but it’s a different kind of seize than the feeling your secret cat makes you feel. This feeling is one that makes time seem to stop moving itself; his soft laugh something akin to a toll bell—not quite high pitched enough to be a bell, but not deep enough to be something else.

“Although if you spilled drink on me two days in a row, I’d probably need you to join me for coffee at some point in order to make up for all the dry cleaning,” the joke falls from Juyeon’s lips with ease—and you can only stare at him in surprise as he offers you one last smile and makes his way to a corner of the coffee shop near the window, as he does every day.

Did… he just flirt?

You shake your head at the absurdity of the thought, though the rest of your work day is spent in a trance. Even when there is a callout halfway through your shift, just a few hours away before your freedom from work—you barely react. It’s just a hiccup, even if it means you’ll be working five hours extra. Juyeon’s words idly trail through your mind, enough to keep you in a daze. Luckily, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, nothing is spilled or broken that day and you make it through the shift safely; save for a few moments of tripping over your own two feet.

When closing time rolls around, you finally start to feel all the work of the day and your clumsiness in those same two feet. You’re practically dragging yourself over the threshold when you close up the coffee shop, locking the door behind you. When you turn to begin down the street for home and the comfort of your warm bed—you almost trip over your own two feet yet again.

Except, this time, it’s not by your own fault that you almost trip. Underfoot, the darkness of the night moves just as you stumble to catch yourself, and you startle in surprise. But then, a familiar pair of amber eyes turn and meet yours—and as your eyes adjust to the blackness, you recognize the outline of a little black cat.

“Kitty?” You wonder, surprise lacing your voice. The cat, as if replying, lets out something akin to a meow and an indignant sigh, as if to ask, How dare you trip over me?

The indignant meow-sigh-huff combo makes you smile, letting out a small laugh under your breath. Yes, it’s definitely your cat friend. But why is the cat so far from the fields at the outskirts of town, away from the maple tree? How did it wander so far? You’d always assumed the cat to be a farm cat, since you’d never seen it among the streets like this—which had you worry the feline may have wandered too far from home to find its way back. At night, nonetheless.

Crouching down, you reach out a hand to the cat, back of your hand facing the feline. “What are you doing all the way in town like this, kitty?”

As per usual, the cat backs away from your hand with a little jump, before scurrying off into the night. You let out a sigh, watching it meld with the shadows, before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Okay, fine. I thought we were friends, but whatever. Just try and assist me in breaking my neck and then leave the scene of the almost-crime.” You give your head a shake, before turning away from the coffee shop and making your way home.

The evening is colder than it has been in the past few nights. As you walk, you snuggle down a little deeper into your coat, surprised by the chill. It’s sharp enough to cut against more sensitive places of your body—like your nose, ears, and cheeks—but not quite deeply cutting in the way that the cold of winter is. This chill doesn’t seep into the depths of your bones and create an ache. It’s just cold enough to make you want to curl up on your couch with a cup of warm tea before bed, but still admire how there’s a warmth to the season overall despite the weather.

It doesn’t take long before a black flash cuts across in front of you. You slow your steps slightly, having set a brisk pace to simply get yourself home quicker, so you weren’t out at night for too long. Your shadowy friend darting back and forth is enough to keep you from walking too fast, though, worried you might trip and fall, and ultimately hurt yourself or the cat. But as you pick your pace up again, the black feline settles into a trot alongside you, weaving close to the walls of the buildings which you walk next to.

“Are you walking me home?” You muse to the cat. “Feel guilty for almost tripping me in the dark?”

You know the cat can’t understand your humor, and likely doesn’t have a conscience enough to feel guilty about such a thing, but it feels nice to talk to someone as you walk. Again—you seek comfort in the feline companion for the fact that you can voice your thoughts aloud, without expecting a reply. It’s also nice to have company on your walk home. Despite the small town being safe, and the streetlamps lighting the way, walking alone at night was an uncomfortable event. Having grown up in the city, you’d been taught to never wander the streets alone at night. It was strange to do so here.

“Lee Juyeon, the warlock that I’ve told you about, came in to work again today. I didn’t spill his order all over him today,” you smile, glancing at the little black shadow that meanders next to you. “You should be proud of me.”

Slowing your pace, you come to a halt. “Do you ever wonder why people treat him differently?” You ask the cat. For a moment, you think, before sighing, “Wait, you probably don’t even know. You’re a cat, after all. How would you realize that he’s being treated differently just because he can practice magic. Heck, you probably don’t even know who Juyeon is.”

Or, maybe the cat did, considering you’d seen Juyeon feed the neighborhood strays outside the coffee shop before.

The thought has you pulling your eyes back to your cat companion. Ahead of you, the animal pulls itself away from the wall and sidles its way into the center of the street. It keeps walking, which prompts you to resume your pace in order to catch up to the cat.

“Anyway, he does magic. A warlock. In the city, witches and warlocks are common. Magic is a lot more accepted where I come from, even though there are rules and restrictions to practicing in order to keep non-magic users safe. Maybe that’s why rural areas and small towns don’t like it, there’s no one to really keep watch and create rules,” you sigh, then wonder why the heck you’re explaining this to a cat. “But still, he’s just simply a human. My coworker doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Isn’t that ridiculous…?”

Much like you do under the maple tree, you ramble to the cat as though it were any other day. It feels kind of nice to have the cat’s company and be able to walk home with someone, even if that someone weren’t quite human. Though you might appear strange to anyone else who might see you chatting into the darkness, you aren’t alone that night—a comfort which you appreciate not only because it’s dark, but also after such a long and grueling day. It allows you to keep your mind away from the dreadful thoughts you might have. Talking to the cat had also become a routine, and though you hadn’t been able to dwell much on the idea of missing out on the almost-daily routine thanks to how busy the coffee shop had gotten in the afternoon, you realize now what it means.

As you near the corner of your street, the cat slows down just ahead of you, sensing a change in your demeanor. Your stomach growls just as you’re about to round the corner the cat is stopped at, causing you to glance down in surprise. Then, you glance at the feline, before lifting your gaze up to glance over your shoulder. Just across the street, lighting up the entire corner—something you’d always been grateful for, living alone—sits a little 24-Hour corner shop. You have food at home that you can heat up quickly, but you remember that your cat friend has wandered into town from the farms, and possibly hasn’t eaten. There’s probably an abundance of mice to catch, if the cat were to look well enough, but you feel guilty after realizing how far the animal had followed you.

And, unfortunately, it wasn’t likely with your current track record that the cat would want to join you inside for the night.

“Wait here,” you instruct the cat, not even sure if it’ll listen. You dart across the street and push your way into the warmth of the little corner shop. The attendant startles in surprise at your entrance, having not expected a customer so late on a fairly chilly night, most likely.

“Do you have cat food?” You ask, and the bleary-eyed boy behind the counter points off in a corner of the shop. You follow his direction to the aisle he points out, wandering down and eyeing the shelves lined with canned and bagged food and treats for all different kinds of pets. You pick out a can of shrimp flavored canned food, remembering that the cat you’d grown up with at home had enjoyed shrimp-flavored things, before heading back to the front of the store to pay for it.

Surprisingly enough, the black cat is there waiting for you as you exit the store—still across the street. You smile, as you near, watching as the cat’s tail tip flicks where it's curled on the ground, rustling a leaf just within reach. Each time its tail does so, causing the leaf to move, the silly little cat swipes at the leaf—and its own tail. And each time, the cat looks offended as it pulls its paw back.

“I have food,” you announce your presence to the cat, so as not to startle it too much out of its little game. As you near, you pull open the can lid, bending down and setting the can on the ground. Knowing the cat will run if you extend your hand, you slowly inch the can forward with your finger tips, watching as the cat slowly inches itself back on its butt in surprise. When your hand returns to yourself, the cat stares at the opened can of food, before bending over just enough to strain its neck to reach out and sniff.

With a sharp flick of its tail, it huffs and turns, trotting off into the darkness.

Your jaw falls open in surprise. “Wow! Rude! That was two dollars!”

Frowning, you glance back at the can of food, then up again where the cat disappeared into the night. Either the cat was extremely spoiled and wasn’t actually a farm cat as you’d thought, feasting on mice—or the animal just wasn’t hungry. Somehow you doubted the latter, as it seemed like quite a journey from the edge of town to your place for a little four-legged creature. Surely any animal would be just a bit hungry after wandering around for hours, right?

Straightening yourself up, you call out into the darkness, “I’m leaving this here, then—in case you change your mind!” But your words are met with silence, and there isn’t even the breeze of the autumn wind whistling through the trees to fill the void of the night.

Parting ways with the darkness and its feline voidling, you finally round the corner and head the last few feet up the street to the warmth of your home.

—

When you wake the next morning, there’s not an immediate rush through your morning. You don’t work until a bit later in the afternoon. This means you’re able to sleep in, enjoy the warmth and comfort of your bed and burrow yourself further down under the duvet as the morning light streams through the curtains, casting even more warmth over you as it filters through the glass window. When it comes time to finally pull yourself out of bed, you shower and brush your teeth, brew a pot of coffee for yourself, and set to work at your laptop for a couple hours to get some writing out.

It’s at this time that a repeated rapping catches your attention, and when you glance up from your laptop—pulling your eyes away from the white light of the screen and squinting—you’re surprised to see a black shadow at your window, two amber eyes peering through a frame of the glass intently.

“What the—? Kitty?”

Hearing your voice, the cat stands up from crouching on the sill, butting its body against the window and letting out a loud meow. You’re fairly certain this is the first time the cat has answered you in such a blatantly obvious tone, which has you excitedly pushing yourself to your feet and rushing over to the window. In the entire time it takes you to cross your bedroom to the window, the cat continues to meow, pacing back and forth along the sill and butting itself against the glass. The cat’s tail curls, waving about languidly.

“Good morning,” you greet, pulling the window up and open for your friend. “What are you doing here? Did you sleep outside on the street last night?”

With more room on the window sill, the cat sits, pointedly fixating its gaze on you. Curiously, you present the back of your hand to the cat, holding it up between the two of you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to the creature, but that doesn’t mean you’re quite out of the woods just yet.

It takes everything within you, though, to hold back the gasp of surprise when the cat leans forward just a bit to sniff you, cold nose pressing against the back of your hand and whiskers grazing across your skin.

“Can I pet you?” You wonder, turning your hand over slowly and reaching behind the cat—but, as fickle as ever, the cat lets out another meow and turns before you can even so much as put your hand onto its fur, dropping down from the window sill. The most touch you get from the interaction is its tail swiping your arm as it turns and jumps down—which, honestly, still leaves you grinning after the cat.

“Wait there again,” you instruct the cat, closing the window. Not waiting for an answer from the feline, who seems a bit chatty that morning, you make your way out of your bedroom—pausing momentarily to grab your coffee mug—before heading to the kitchen. You wonder if the cat is hungry, mentally noting you don’t have cat food, which is why you had bought it last night, before reminding yourself that it didn’t seem to like the canned food anyway.

Fish? No, you’d have to go to the market for that. If you ate fish, you typically cooked it immediately rather than let it sit in your freezer. What else could cats eat? “Chicken…?” You wonder aloud, opening your fridge and eyeing the leftover container of some grilled chicken you’d had the night before.

“It’s a bird, cats like bird meat.” Giving yourself a small shrug, you pull the container from the fridge and open it. It takes a few moments to shred it down to something a bit more manageable to chew with your fingers, before you pop it in the microwave to nuke it a bit. You didn’t mind cold chicken, but assuming the cat had spent the night outside, you figure a little warmth in its belly would be nice.

As though sensing your intentions, when you open the front door, the black cat is sitting expectantly on the porch, staring up at the door. Its tail swipes across the wood deck lazily, seemingly unbothered by having had to wait.

“It’s not much, since I don’t really know what to feed a cat that’s okay and I don’t keep cat food… not that you appreciated it last night…” You scoff, before setting down the container on the porch in front of the cat. “But here’s some breakfast for you. Or brunch now, I suppose.”

This food smells much more interesting than the canned cat food, and the feline doesn’t hesitate to step forward and crouch down in front of the leftover container, immediately gobbling up the grilled chicken you’d shredded. You smile, watching with relief as the animal eats. You really weren’t sure at this point if the cat was a farmcat after all, a stray, or simply a spoiled wanderer—but not knowing where the animal had been overnight, and seeing it eat now after refusing food last night put your mind at ease.

You watch the cat eat in silence, making yourself comfortable and sitting back against the doorframe of your open front door. Every now and again, you sip your coffee, glance up at the street and off into the distance where you can see the rolling hills of the countryside, before looking back down at the cat. When your feline friend finishes its meal, it lays back on your porch, grooming itself in content—then moving off to a warm patch of sun and curling into a ball on your deck. Deciding you don’t want to waste this precious moment, you clean up the container before grabbing your laptop, and setting up shop on the deck for a few more hours before work, writing alongside the silent company of your tiny visitor.

“Okay, I have to go to work,” you announce after a few hours have passed, not entirely sure why you’re detailing this to the cat. If it really was a stray, it would probably remove itself from your company whenever. Or, you’d return home after work to it having disappeared again. The thought made you wistful—maybe even a bit sad. This had been the first you’d ever had the cat’s extended company and attention for, and you were growing quite used to it.

To your surprise, when it actually is time to leave for work, the cat begins to follow you after you’ve closed and locked up your little house. You let out an amused half smile, watching as the cat follows alongside you. “What, are you my chauffeur now?”

The walk to work that day is infinitely more amusing than all the other times you’d walked the same path. You don’t have much to ramble to your companion about that day, though you do mention that you wonder if Juyeon will pop in at the coffee shop in the afternoon. Typically, he was a morning coffee person, but you’d seen him stop by in the evenings once in a while. Instead of talking as you walk, though, you watch as the cat darts ahead of you every once in a while—chasing a stray leaf on the breeze and pouncing after it down the street until it lies motionless on the ground. Sometimes, the cat lags behind, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder to see what curiosities it's getting itself into—jumping on a fence to tease a dog, sniffing around at certain things on the path, or slinking down close to the ground and acting as if it’s hunting nothing in particular, before darting ten feet ahead of you at a run and waiting for you to catch up.

“Don’t stay out here for too long tonight,” you warn the cat, pausing outside the coffee shop. “This street gets busy on weekends, someone might not see you…” You didn’t want to imagine the poor cat getting lost in the crowd. The coffee shop was in the center of a small village shopping square, and on weekend evenings it filled up with families and others sharing date nights and evening events together. You frown, wondering if the cat will listen, before giving the animal a small little wave and heading inside.

When you set to work, you can’t help but find yourself glancing out the window periodically—taking mental stock of the cat through your shift. Each time you go to clean a table, you peer out the window and see the cat either peering right back in at your, or napping somewhere nearby. Every time you call out someone’s order, you push yourself onto your tiptoes to glance over the customer’s shoulder as they near, mentally noting every spot the little black shape outside moves to. If a new customer enters the shop, you greet them and take their order, and before the transaction finishes you ask in a quiet voice if there’s a cat outside still—relieved when a customer confirms they’d seen one lounging about.

Halfway through your shift, your cat friend disappears from the view of the window, and a small panic sets in. You notice as you’re taking an order for a couple of guests, two people who can’t seem to settle on their decision and keep talking over each other as they tell you what they want. They aren’t the type of people to inquire about the cat outside, especially since it seems as though they’ve popped into the coffee shop for an afternoon pick-me-up to help settle some of their irritation. Yet as you speak with them, and punch in their order, you can’t help your eyes darting off to the side now and again to try and peek around them and out the window.

“Can you take over the register for a bit?” You ask of your coworker almost as soon as the two chatty, indecisive guests walk away. You don’t wait for them to reply—considering they always drop the same on you without warning. It’s rare of you to return the “favor,” but you don’t feel guilty doing so.

As you move around the counter, you grab a tray and a cleaning rag in order to clean some tables, eyes never leaving the window as you do so.

“Was that your cat? The one outside?” Your coworker asks, scoffing. “Should take better care of it.”

You scowl, eyes snapping back to your coworker, who shrinks in surprise at the ferocity of your gaze. “No it’s not. It’s a stray that followed me, and I’m worried.” As you turn away from them, you grumble under your breath, “You have a nasty habit of assuming the worst of people.”

As you near the window, searching for the black furry shadow outside, your eyes are so fixated you barely register the door of the shop opening and the lackluster greeting being called out by your coworker. In fact, you’re so out of it that, as you move, you practically stumble straight into a wall of body that had just entered the shop. You stumble back in surprise, realizing that you’ve almost walked straight into a customer, glancing up to apologize—and blanching when you realize it’s Juyeon.

“S-sorry!”

Juyeon smiles in greeting. “It’s fine,” he answers, before glancing over his shoulder outside, then back down at you. “Are you okay?”

“I— yeah… I just—” You frown. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. What can I get for you today?” Sparing one last glance at the window, you move back toward the counter, eyeing your coworker as they move away and disappear, refusing as always to take the young warlock’s order.

“Can I sit at the bartop today?” Juyeon asks, trailing after you. You glance over your shoulder at him in surprise, before nodding.

“Let me take your order and then you can take a seat.”

“I’d like a mochachino today.”

You punch in the order, looking at him in surprise. “Chocolate?”

Juyeon smiles that soft smile that always seems to leave you winded and out of breath. “Craving something sweet, but I’ve got some work to do, so I need something that will keep me awake, too.”

You nod, letting out a hum of understanding from the back of your throat. When you read the total off to him, Juyeon pays the appropriate amount, and you wave him to the bartop just to the left of the cash register. His presence at the bartop is almost certain to keep your coworker from ever returning to the front of house, so you silently hope that no sudden rush comes through the cafe as you set to work making his drink.

“Why did you seem so distracted when I came in earlier?” Juyeon asks, tone of voice idle. You glance over your shoulder, away from the espresso machine, in surprise when he speaks. Had he always been this chatty? Although, to be fair, Juyeon always came in during the morning rushes and you never had a chance to actually talk to him.

You aren’t sure what really catches you by surprise—the fact that he’s making conversation with you, or the fact that his deep voice has caused your heart to begin a rapid and stuttering beat in your chest. Yet, somehow, despite your nervousness to be talking to a young man you’d always admired from your own little corner of the coffee shop, and how he gazed out the window and watched the world in silent content and admiration, and offered up sweet and soft smiles to everyone around him—his voice also fills you with a warmth that’s almost soothing. Like the familiar smell of the coffee grounds that waft through the shop daily, then later cling to the strands of your hair when you get home. It feels familiar.

“Are you really okay?” He asks, prompting again.

“I’m fine. I was just worried… there was a cat outside. It followed me to and from work yesterday and today, and now that it’s getting busy I’m wondering where it went off to and if it’s okay. I feel responsible even though it might be a stray that just followed me for its own amusement,” you explain as you work.

When you finish Juyeon’s order, you turn and set it on the counter in front of him. He smiles, as always, and takes it with a polite and soft thank you, before leveling you with his gaze.

When his eyes land on you, almost instantly you feel your heart seize up in your chest. You’ve never been this close to Juyeon before—never actually gotten a good look at him up close. His features from afar are stunning; he’s handsome in a very simple way that’s easy on the eyes. But up close, it’s almost as if he’s crafted from marble. You’ve never had a chance to admire his sharp features; study the lines of his jaw and his high-placed cheekbones, notice the square shape of his earlobes, or admire his long and straight nose or the way his lips curl upward slightly at the corners.

“Cats are street smart, you know. I’m sure your little stray friend is fine. They probably know these streets better than the both of us,” Juyeon replies, “And luckily for them, people in this town are a little kinder to stray cats than other types of strays.”

It’s then that you meet his gaze, catching on to a deeper implication of his words—studying his almond-shaped brown eyes and taking note of the curious amber flecks that hit the warm yellow light of the cafe just right.

“No way,” you breathe out.

Juyeon smiles—and this time, his smile isn’t the usual soft and kind one, but one that pushes his cheeks up in a way that causes his eyes to smile along with the rest of his face. He seems much too amused by the realization setting across your face, followed by a flush that follows soon after. You’d ranted and rambled about Lee Juyeon to Lee Juyeon—albeit not the human one.

You’d heard that some witches and warlocks could shapeshift, and that others had familiars. Never once in your life did you think you’d somehow be on the receiving end of that gift. Of course, it made sense, considering the treatment around town that Juyeon often received—that he’d either hide in another form or test the honesty of those he interacted with in a different form.

Juyeon lifts his coffee cup to his lips, smiling over the rim. “Can I walk you home tonight? Perhaps this time not as a cat? I’d love to hear you regale one of your lavish tales of me.”

#juyeon fic #juyeon fanfic #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #juyeon #the boyz #tbz fanfic #m.writes

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tosikoarts · 4 years ago

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SFW Alphabet | Kadokura Toshiyuki

There he is, the tanuki man! Ask box is now OPEN. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Thanks to the omnipresent influence of bad luck, Kadokura has little experience when it comes to love life (yes, we don’t count a marriage which was a complete failure, okay, his wife and daughter ran off), courtship, and romance in general. Those relationships he was involved in never grew in anything serious, and he was often left with nothing but a broken heart so, obviously, when Kadokura starts to notice a flaring interest in anyone, he is confused.

First, what? Second, why? Could it happen in a more convenient time, not when he is hunted by a rabid Superior Private and, potentially, by a dozen more dangerous personalities in Hokkaido? Despite being a complete wreck, Kadokura tries to play it cool. He acts just as unperturbed as always, does not go out of his way to impress his untimely crush because what if they don’t like him at all? Worse! What if they are disgusted with him or something?

Thus the only affection they can expect are endless entertaining conversations, - Kadokura knows a ton of fables and his heart skips a bit when they laugh at yet another story, - and help whenever they may need it. In fact, he is just scared to death that his “luck” will affect them too. Moreover, if it happens, he won’t be able to protect them or play a knight in shining armor since he isn’t that personable, formidable, strong…

Kadokura is a king of pinning and self-doubt so, you know, the only way this relationship can progress anywhere is if his crush takes the initiative. Takes him by the hand, makes some compliments, shows that they care and are interested. The best option would be to just tell him directly what a dumb dummy he is that he can’t notice their green lights.

After that everything becomes much easier: Kadokura slowly steps up his dating game! Sure, it’s a long time from “Wow, your eyelashes are so long. Like cow’s eyelashes” to “Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” (Note: check out Natsume Soseki to understand the context!) and from chilling by the fire to sitting on the porch of own house but trust the process.

Mostly relies on the way his partner shows their affection and adjusts to them. If they are more about verbal affection, he will put all his efforts into becoming smooth talker, if they are a more physical person, Kadokura will hold them by the hand and hug the shit out of them. Simple as that.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The start of this friendship is unpredictable. They had to meet either before Kadokura started to work as a jailor (or they had to be imprisoned in Abashiri lol) or after he joined Hijikata Toshizou. Both options come down to Kadokura getting into some kind of trouble like make another lunatic mad at him and his future best friend, or simply bumping into them on the street, scattering all of the goods they just bought on the road. Kadokura gets under the horse's hooves in an attempt to collect them. Now he needs medical help. Please, help this poor man.

Never initiates anything but if you offer to hang out Kadokura will be down. Again, hanging out with him is a double-edged sword: you may end up in the maelstrom of events that will leave you with a shit ton of crazy stories for grandkids or you may fall onto the ground and lie like a stone telling each other the dumbest puns. Both are good, in my opinion, just be aware of the possibilities.

There are moments when he can't stop complaining about life. Usually, it happens over a shot of sake when Kadokura’s cheeks crimson, long sighs substitute commas in between of lamentations, and the atmosphere becomes more intimate. The prisoners are, of course, very attentive listeners, but you will not get any emotional feedback from them. With freshly made best friend, Kadokura tends to overshare and then profusely apologize for that.

Just like with Hijikata Toshizou, he will stick his neck out for them but won’t expect the same in return. To the point where if he was forced to choose between saving either Hijikata or his best friend, Kadokura will have to commit die instead.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Enjoys being cuddled more than he originally thought. For the first time in a while, his palms are sweating, butterflies are swarming in the stomach, so gentle touch feels almost dazing: Kadokura may even flinch in surprise when they start nuzzling on his shoulder like a cat. Later he finally convinces himself to ease off enough to pull them into an unescapable hug, fall together on the ground and fool around or pull them on his lap and plant few kisses on their cute nose. Doesn’t like spooning because every time he is big spoon three is no way he can keep hands to himself. The temptation is too great, and Kadokura doesn’t even try to resist it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Why this question?. Who even dreams of a nasty cozy home? Of the disgusting overwhelming feeling of safety with the love of one’s life? Waking up and falling asleep together, sharing all good and bad from day to day? HORRIBLETERRIBLEAWFUL sign Kadokura up. Of course, he wants to settle down. The desire to have a family nest has been growing in his heart for years but until now there was no person to share this dream with. He brings up the idea of living together as soon as it seems more or less appropriate and flies over the moon (at the speed of light) when his partner supports it. Good at cooking but sucks at cleaning.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Classical breakup with “It’s not you, it’s me” line in it. Kadokura will not break up with his partner until all possible methods of saving relationships have been tried out: this is one of the most difficult decisions in his life ever and fucking up something that can be saved would be idiotic. He has doubts until the last second of course. Scratching the back of his head awkwardly and dejectedly avoiding their gaze, Kadokura tries to get to the point but his speech is interrupted by endless ummms and ughs. In the end, he feels as awful as they do, guilty and somewhat ashamed, so after making sure they are not going to do anything stupid, Kadokura flees.

There is not a lot to say besides that Kadokura clearly understands how hard it is to be left (and usually that’s how breakup feels like you were left on the side of the road) so he tries to be delicate. Checks up on them from time to time by sending long letters with detailed descriptions of his misadventures.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He is no longer at an age when postponing a wedding is almost a matter of course but, at the same time, Kadokura is held back by the fear that this marriage will end like a previous one. Is he legally divorced at all?... Anyway, Kadokura is torn between proposing on the first anniversary and waiting an unknown amount of time until they bring up this question. Dreams of a small wedding with one or two guests from both sides so they are not obligated to be too serious and constrained with traditions. Kirawus has to be one of the guests, he cries at the sight of happy butthole peeker Kadokura.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ayyy, he is the type of man who lets his hand go numb but won’t move it to not disturb his loved one’s sleep. Kadokura is way more gentle than any of the ex-soldiers, both physically and emotionally but his attempts to show it often come off as kind of awkward and malapropos. Do not let it upset you: Kadokura is a master in turning everything into a good joke and laughing at small inconveniences. He is the one to apologize first after the big argument, the one to offer a big hug after a bad day, the one to sit beside and listen to the emotional rent without giving even one unnecessary comment.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Whenever his loved one wants, Kadokura will be there with arms outstretched to the sides, ready to give them the tightest hugs. He likes to gently rub their back at the same time or nuzzle against their neck but is hesitant if there are any onlookers.

In family life, he has no problem with randomly running up to his loved one for a hug. Really, Kadokura is a sucker for unexpected back hugs where he can put hands on the partner’s waist and press them into his body, deliberately distracting them from housework.

You can easily tell Kadokura is having a rough day when he slips from usually coveted embraces: it is an unconscious trick to fish out a double portion of physical affection from his loved one.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Pretty fast compared to others. Half of the year, maybe? It has to be obvious you love a person by that time or so Kadokura thinks. He is not afraid to be misunderstood since by the time confession is ready to slip from his tongue, Kadokura already has planned a whole paragraph ahead of all questions: if they are not ready to say it back that’s fine, if they don’t feel the same right now or in general that’s fine if they need space to think about that’s fine. Everything is fine with Kadokura, he just wants to convey the idea that they are irreplaceable and make him feel like no one did before.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A definition of confusion in all scenarios since he can’t clearly understand his own emotions. Is it a disappointment? If it is anger, it’s greatly diminished by a feeling of worthlessness. If they are being hit on, Kadokura sees himself as a rather weak opponent but picks himself up and stands next to a partner, gently taking them by the hand, and asks them if everything is alright. If the rival is excessively pushy, Kadokura will let out a heavy sigh before getting into a fight because no way he will let any bastard hurt his loved one. Needs to be patched up after the fight. Can’t stop smiling like a fool when they wipe the blood abundantly oozing from a broken nose. It’s good for his ego.

If they decided to flirt with anyone, Kadokura chokes on his own saliva. Like. What. This is so humiliating. He wants the ground open to swallow him up, along with all his stupid feelings for them, which, apparently, mean nothing. Needs a lot of space to cool down and has a hard time confronting them about the situation. Kadokura is more comfortable with repressing this unpleasant memory than sorting things out.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

With Kadokura every kiss is just like the first one in the best sense of the word: his kisses are gentle, warm, not too sloppy, not too dry, not priestly prude, and not teenagerly aggressive. Although he has a funny (or annoying, it is not for everyone) habit: sometimes he decides to smooch them in the middle of talking just because. If they scold him for that he just laughs it off and plants a hundred more kisses on their poppy-red face.

Loves to kiss his partner on temples and lips but, honestly, as long as it’s them Kadokura will kiss them whenever, from the top of the head to the tip of their pinky toes, literally. Prefers to be kissed on the lips too but also on the neck, chest, and belly.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

First of all, Kadokura loves children with his whole heart. Second of all, kids love Kadokura like no other babysitter. Put them together in one room and watch them vibe. Honestly, he is naturally good around little ones, it looks like he was born with a talent to keep up with those fidgets. If his child is struggling with any school subject, Kadokura will spend the evening with them, helping them to understand a difficult concept. Even if he doesn’t understand it himself, nothing can stop Kadokura from dive into books, teach himself, and then explain learned stuff to kids. Absolutely amusing when he babytalks. Wants three or four children but still has a fear of being a bad father (unreasonably!).

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lazy as mornings can be. No one hurries to jump out of the bed to get down to business, and the house stays silent until late noon. After waking up, Kadokura languidly sits up in the sheets, yawns, and curls up back to his partner, spending another few hours snoozing in their warmth.

Eh, it feels like Kadokura is the type of person that is awfully quiet in the morning. It is easier for him to convey his thought with gestures than to start moving his tongue. Well, except when it comes to kisses. He doesn't mind spending some energy on that.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are calm and cozy. They are pretty much normal, usually spent at home since it is nearly impossible to drag Kadokura anywhere after 6 p.m. On especially good days, he can surprise his partner with simple but delicious food: unusual gourmet dishes of the Michelin 3-star restaurant level aren’t his forte but miso soup made with unconditional love is definitely his signature dish.

Fond of playing games with his loved one despite losing 9 times out of 10. They have lost more than five dices already but Kadokura keeps buying new sets, of higher quality and higher price. After the game is finished, Kadokura or his partner thinks up a challenge for the loser like cook for a week or call the winner one specific word for a day so they can have more fun.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

They have to become his friend before Kadokura starts to reveal more info than the one that is known to everyone in the area. By the way, a good indicator of closeness is the ability to laugh together: look at his relationship with Kirawus, that is just the right level to open up. Takes things slowly, expects another person to share as much as he does. Kadokura is very particular when it comes to the innermost and knows how to keep secrets, so he makes it clear from the very beginning it’s okay to speak their mind, ask for advice, etc. As stated before, tends to overshare after having too much sake.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The patient isn’t the right word, resigned is. There is nothing in this world that can surprise him: Kadokura had to deal with the most terrible scumbags imaginable, serve as bait for a killer (and face another person who wanted his death even more than the aforementioned killer!), freeze his ass off while standing on the thin ice with a knife between his rimed buttocks. Like, the peak of life’s evil tomfoolery is reached. Kadokura is prepared to face anything and everything and is relieved every time it’s not a near-death experience or bloodthirsty wild animal.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It depends on how stars align on each separate day. Today he remembers 99,9% of what his loved one said and the next day not a single word reaches his brain cells. Kadokura is way more focused on feelings and emotions he experiences together with his partner so it is not uncommon for him to remember they were uncontrollably laughing but were cold than that they fell in the river because he was rocking the boat. It works the same with negative emotions: Kadokura somehow feels he should lock the dog even though he has no clear memory that his loved one is afraid of them. Why did I do it? I don’t know, gut’s feeling.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

A first kiss for sure! After a long lull in personal life, the first kiss with a new person awakens a whole storm of emotions in him. Kadokura feels like he is eighteen again, he just crossed the doorstep of adulthood and discovered the delight of the first relationship. This joy is enough to take away his speech for a minute: months later this moment makes him wince in disbelief of how silly he must have looked with eyes wide-opened and jaw hanging low. After that, he still had the courage to ask “oh so does it mean we are the thing now? Like the real thing?”. No, Kadokura spent the next week wondering if this was a feverish dream despite given a positive answer.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Do you want to live? Run then! Use the Joseph Joestar’s famous plan and strategically retreat because his brain needs some time to come up with a plan. Kadokura obviously wants to keep his loved one safe and sound, who doesn’t, but it is not that easy. He gives them a gun or knife to protect themself in the moment of danger since, chances are, Kadokura himself will be in even deeper troubles, millimeters away from swiftly bayonet sending him straight to heaven.

Relies mostly on keeping them as far from the battle scene as possible. Even if they handle a gun better than he does, Kadokura actively protests in every possible way and convinces them to stay somewhere safe: he knows for sure if they get injured, he will be the one to blame, and if something irreversible happens, he won’t be live on without a heavy burden of guilt.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Despite the lack of ample opportunities to show his love inexpensive or exquisite ways, Kadokura tries his best to impress his loved one. He is ready to change himself and change his life as well to be worthy of their company. A little more effort to get out of bed and shave this mess off the neck, even more effort to buy a new suit for their dinner date out, every drop of effort to accept his awkwardness and let things go with the flow. Anniversaries are treated the same way: if possible, in summer Kadokura will plan a trip to the South coast where they can enjoy loneliness together to the sound of waves breaking on the rocky shore. In winter, he will certainly try to create an extra festive and cozy atmosphere at home, cooking their favorite food, and making an excessive amount of tea. We are talking about the level at which the kettle is never empty. Relatively diligent in the everyday task but no powers in the world will force him to clean up like a normal man.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

“A wilted, uninspired middle-aged dude” he is, and it affects how Kadokura perceives himself more than you think. In turn, this perception seeps into his life as self-doubt, self-deprecating jokes, and hesitation in making important decisions. At the same time, if you point out this flaw to him, Kadokura will sulk. You would think he has to know better but no.

Unmotivated and has a hard time opening up to new experiences like learning new skills or finding new hobbies. Not as much as Kikuta, but Kadokura also has a habit of doing as he did twenty years ago even if the consequences did not live up to expectations. He sees a rake that WILL hit him on the forehead and JUMPS on it anyway.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Earlier in the days when grass was greener and the sky was bluer, Kadokura put more thought into his appearance but over time it changed. With the current state of the world, he doesn’t bother to waste his time fixing his hair every hour and blow the dust off his shoes. His uniform is in a relatively ok condition, with few patches here and there, three-day stubble often overgrows in one-week stubble, and bags under the eyes give him a shabby look but there is a charm in it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Some people try too hard to hide the fact they are hurt while going through a bad breakup and he is one of them. Days seem endlessly long and gloomy, Kadokura performs given tasks only because it is expected from him, he stops playing cards with Kirawus and doesn’t bat an eyelid when ainu bugs him. Absent-mindedness leads Kadokura straight into new problems but none of them is enough to shake him up. He is… sad. Simply as that. Not heartbroken, not sorrowful. It is an empty sadness that leaves you painfully numb without a stingy tear to shed. To make it even worse, after the breakup Kadokura persistently seeks their company again and again for reasons he can’t explain. Maybe, it is desensitization: the more he sees them as an outsider, the easier he takes it. Shortly after, he will try to find the trace of his ex-wife and daughter, reunite with them if… they want to, you know. They might start a new life while he was nodding off in the workplace.

If they have been killed, Kadokura will live on, faithfully serving Hijikata. He refuses to talk about them at all, brushing off offered emotional support. Still, he was born under an unlucky star and nothing can be done about it: it is something he has to come to terms with.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Let's forget the canon for a second and pretend that Kadokura has a sister or a brother who, in turn, has a child. So my headcanon is that he is a cool uncle. The one who gives kids life advice in the form of a funny parable, pretends he doesn’t hear them sneaking out in the night, puts more money in an envelope so they can save some up for cool stuff. His lifehacks are actually useful even though sometimes questionable… The one who doesn’t have to try to fit in with the new-gen because he got it already.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

There is only one specific thing that comes to mind since Kadokura is too chill and it seems he can deal with almost everything.

People with excessive energy. We are not talking about the literal ray of sunshine type of person that beams with energy but rather about people who are active and need other people to match them. They need strong feedback from another person to feel validated and not to fall into the depression abyss and Kadokura is not a person to match this description. He is not about running around 24/7 enthusiastically grimacing at every little thing. It's exhausting. It is annoying. Kadokura’s social battery runs out on their second sentence so he prefers to avoid such Duracell bunnies at all costs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Just like Kikuta has a specific ritual before going to bed. Jailer's work taught Kadokura to pay more attention to the security of the house so he can’t fall asleep without checking all the doors. This habit has nothing to do with obsessive-compulsive disorder, it is what it is. Besides it, Kadokura gives his partner a goodnight kiss on the temple because what if he wakes up and they are not here or what if he won’t have any other chance to do it. This one doesn’t change even if Kadokura is stressed the f out: he may be red from the anger but he will lean down and smooch them to remind how much they mean to him.

#golden kamuy #kadokura #kadokura toshiyuki #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #tosikowrites

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years ago

Text

Corpses in the Meadow || Morgan & Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Nothing brings together two dead women like wildflowers and flesh eating watermellons.

Morgan had thought her days of laying in the ground for hours were behind her, but April really was the cruelest month and she hadn’t gotten free of its grip yet. Today, under a bright spring sun, she furrowed her nails deep into the earth and tried to pull herself under, as if the ground and all its creatures were a blanket for her. But of course the earth didn’t hold anyone like that except for the dead. The for real, permanent, definitely-no-walking dead. Morgan brushed her fingers along the newly sprung wildflowers, imagining what their petals felt like, if they were as tender and smooth as her memory told her they were. At least she could enjoy their colors, and their fluffy golden pollen centers. Morgan plucked some carefully by the stem and knotted them together from her sprawl on the ground. Maybe if she ever got to have a real funeral, she’d ask whosever was left to care about her for wildflowers. She should probably find out if her zombie goo was toxic to plants, but if she could go back to being a part of the world, if she could be felt and taken in, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Carefully, Morgan plucked more flowers from around her and wove them with care, on and off, between laying and watching the bright eye of the sun through the trees, until she heard the grass crunch behind her. Morgan tilted her head back, squinting to catch a glimpse of the figure. Please no hunters, she thought. I don’t want to convince a hunter I deserve to live today.

Springtime was here, and Eilidh couldn’t help but smile. For one so shrouded in death, life in all its forms filled her with delight. As the forest shivered, awoken from its winter slumber, she felt herself drawn more and more to its embrace. Of course, she did have the professional need to be there so frequently, but that wasn’t the main motivation. Even when her ventures were work focused, such as now, she took her time getting to the needed destination. Especially after the gateway adventure and all these damn fires. Between work and wondering what the hell was going on, she deserved to have a moment of relaxation. But she tried not to worry about that now. She inhaled a deep breath—the hint of spring air tickling her nose, so accustomed to just a suggestion of its true form she didn’t know the difference. The sounds of creatures, excited by the revitalized forest as well, filled her ears with a wonderful symphony. Colors that weren’t there the day before dazzled her eyes and—wait, who was that?

She squinted. Aye, looks like a person. Well, she should probably investigate. Changing course, she got closer, and closer, and closer, until she could clearly see what the other person was doing. Arms to her hips, brows furrowed, voice stern, she called, “Hey, you’re not supposed to do that!” A pause. Then, a grin. “Nah, it’s whatever. Just don’t pick too much, or I will have to actually ask you to stop.” Even closer now, she peered curiously as the braided flora, trying to make sense of its unfinished form. “What are you working on, anyway?”

The voice calling out to Morgan definitely didn’t sound like a hunter. “Sorry!” Morgan called dully. Then the voice warmed, not laughing, but bouncing like it wanted to. Slowly, Morgan sat up to look at her. Definitely a lot prettier and friendlier than any stranger she’d run into in the woods so far. “I’m making, well…” She looked down at her handiwork. It had gotten too long to be a circlet, unless she wanted to twist it over itself. “Honestly, I’m just passing the time. Making things helps me think. Or not think, I guess. Normally I do that at home, I’m not a serial flower picker or anything. I just didn’t feel like being inside about it.” But she did, apparently, feel like oversharing about it.

Morgan grinned ruefully and held it out to the stranger. “Do you want it? It’ll look better on you, with how tall you are.” She nodded at her, insisting. “Are these your woods?”

“Seems like you’ve had a lot of time to pass.” Eilidh mused while surveying the length of the, well, the to-be-decided. It reminded her of her own absentminded creations, especially during days when she would forego human society for days, weeks, months at a time. And it was a pretty little thing; she could tell its creator had experience.

She perked excitedly at the offering—eyes alight and giggle bubbling—and immediately claimed it, though with care. Within her grasp, she gently turned and twisted the woven piece, concentration on her face. Suddenly, epiphany. She dropped down to her knees, taking care to not disturb too much of the vegetation below. She wrapped it once around her head, quickly connecting the end piece to the rest, and then began to weave the remaining part within her own hair into a side braid. “I don’t claim them, but I do work here.” Feeling hospitable after the generosity, she continued. “Speaking of, I was heading over to do something. But I know a real good flower spot on the way. It’s not on a commonly used trail. So, nice and private. But you can’t pick any of those. And I’ll know, so don’t try. Still, they’re wonderful to look at, ‘specially right now.” She finished the braid. Part of the flowers still stuck out at the end; her hair just wasn’t quite long enough. Ah well. “Interested?”

Morgan looked up at the sky to check the position of the sun, then her phone to confirm her suspicions. She’d been laying here for hours and it had barely felt like anything. Maybe that could have been a relief, but she’d been down this proverbial hole too many times to be glad about skipping suffering by being absent from herself. “I guess I have, yeah…” Her voice tapered off into a laugh. Technically, she had all the time in the world.

She smiled in spite of herself as the woman wrapped the flowers into her hair. She seemed to have done it before. “So that’s why you’d have to stop me if I became too much of a flower thief. At least you’re a lot more pleasant than any of the other public service workers I’ve met in town.” Although between Marley Stryder and Kaden in his scowl-y asshole days, that bar was pretty low. Morgan looked at the sky again. It was well past morning, but she didn’t feel like going back home while everyone in it was away doing...alive-people things, presumably. “Uh...you know, I don’t see why not. It’s okay if I take pictures of them though, right? It’s not gonna hurt them any.” Slowly, she got to her feet and waited for the woman to show her the way. “If we’re going off on unknown woodsy adventures, I should probably know you as something better than ‘strangely nice park lady’. I’m Morgan.”

Mischief twinkled in Eilidh’s eyes when she looked upon the other. “You caught me. I want all the flowers to myself.” Sentence punctuated with a mock evil laugh. She did, perhaps, on her off time, pick flowers and use them for various things. She mostly placed them in her hair, or pressed them in a book, or added them to her crafts, similar to the one now braided in her hair. She always made sure not to take too much, and to give back to the earth in ways she could.

Her? Pleasant? James would scoff if he was near, but he was off having private time. Though, at times, she could be such a word. Especially when she was surrounded by all that nature could give: when the sun hit the nape of her neck and the breeze cooled her skin and the trees danced amongst the flow. It calmed her. It was why she always felt drawn to it. It was her home. It was the only true one she had left, anyhow.

She arose, brushing off remnants of the ground off her skirt. “Aye, photography’s fine. Just don’t have me in them. I don’t like paparazzi. And call me Macleod.” She nodded in greeting. Then, with her head, she motioned onward and began their journey. “This way. It’s not too far from here.” Initially, the trail they took was large and the ground smooth, packed down by many feet over the years: a main path. The trail Eilidh quickly turned into was less so. It was marked, and it would come up on the map if you looked, but the ground was noticeably less tame. And the surrounding wilderness knew this, knew the barrier between it and the path was weaker. Eilidh didn’t bat an eye as they continued.

Morgan laughed softly in response. “Are you saying you’re secretly an international pop star on the run, Macleod?” She teased dryly. “Because I could use the boost to my Instagram profile. Cat pictures interspersed with flowers, decaying animals, and their bones isn’t very mainstream.” She took out her phone, arching a brow, then turned and took a close shot of a tree branch. It was easier to hold herself up in front of someone, especially a stranger. She had her pride, even if sometimes she overshared to the point of distressing people. And then, new people were such convenient puzzles and experiences. She didn’t have to be sad looking at herself if she was learning their expressions and what they were like and how their presence colored the world.

She followed this woman, Macleod, down the trail. It was one of those obscure ones that was half grown over by neglect, or some unspoken message from nature. Morgan had a sense that they were passing into someone else’s territory. Morgan stumbled behind her, scanning their surroundings, the birds flying above the trees, the blur of butterflies in the distance. Further on, she thought she spied a shadow, some deer maybe, lazing on its way through its day. “And this is definitely a secret flower patch and not a secret murder patch, right…?” She asked.

“I’ll never tell.” She winked. Then, pause. Instagram. Eilidh was almost sure she knew which one that was. Should someone the age she looks like know what that was? She decided not to mention it and look it up later. “Really? ‘Cause all that already got my attention.” The brief moment the phone faced her, she stiffened ever so slightly—shoulders barely rose, face found a subtle hardness. As the lens passed on to a new target, the tension washed off her just as quickly as it came. Her eyes followed the new direction. A simple tree branch, but the way the light hit it just so… she understood the interest.

She let out a short chuckle. “Nah, the murder patch is half a klick that way.” She took note of Morgan’s unease and quickened her pace, figuring it was best to get to their destination sooner rather than later. The breeze picked up, brushing aside the flimsy vegetation ahead and the pair got an early glimpse of their goal. Colors erupted between the green, as if a window into another world. The wind took a turn, and the air suddenly became engulfed in a cornucopia of sweetness. Unfortunately, to her it was only a little tickle in her nose. Nothing more.

“Really?” Morgan said, brows raised. “Well that’s not something I hear every day. You don’t have a collection too, do you? Because I have a lot of death sculptures and I’m running out of shelf space.” Not that she’d been adding much to it lately. Between taking care of her family and being too miserable to cook for herself, she hadn’t been doing much in her studio besides breathing and spacing out. But if a normie like Cutler could find something nice in it, maybe Macleod could too.

But before Morgan could make her pitch, they arrived. It had rained the night before and the ground was still iridescent with water, which now shimmered in the sunlight as if enchanted with a glaze of pearl. White flowers streamed over the grass as if they’d been poured from the sky. Bunches of violets and peonies danced in the breeze and a thin haze of dandelion puffs and pollen floated like pixies through the air. Morgan gaped in awe, too awed to bother aiming her camera. “I was about eighty-five percent sure you were serious about this not being a murder patch, but stars above--” She tipdoed carefully into the flowers, trying to disturb as few of them as possible. “What are their names?” she asked, sinking down to brush the petals. “What do they smell like?”

Eilidh perked curiously. “Can’t say I have a ‘death sculpture’ collection. What’d they look like?” Images of a room overcome with ceramic skeletons filled her mind. And then, the same room taken over by structures constructed by pieces of the dead. But all theorizing dashed from her mind at the sudden burst of colors. Despite having found herself in the spot many times, the sight was still delightful. Especially now, when many of the flowers were finally awoken from their slumber—stretching, dancing in the spring air. Their full vitality overwhelming the area in every hue. The forest was a sky, and this was its rainbow. Morgan’s reaction reminded Eilidh of when she first found the area less than a year prior. Sadly, it was located just as the flowers began to take their rest. But now she can enjoy it in its full glory.

“Well, that one’s Jeffrey, that one’s Helga.” She pointed to flowers at random. “Kidding… Maybe. Who knows, they could like being called Helga.” Still, she wasn’t going to force upon them a name. But she wasn’t sure if her current company would understand the sentiment, so she continued. “Anyway, these are known as Dog’s Tooth,” she motioned to a congregation of yellow petaled flowers, “and those’re Lady’s Slippers,” it was the collection of peculiarly shaped flower’s turn to be gestured at. “To name a few.” She matched Morgan’s tentative steps and joined her by a dense patch of purple flowers, one of which Morgan currently caressed. While the petals were small, their large numbers resulted in a relatively tall plant. She nodded, regarding its presence. “This one is supposedly very obedient. But I can tell they still have a wild spirit.” She too placed a gentle finger on the petals, though her fingers hardly registered anything. Her nose faced the same situation. A faint sweetness lingered, but only enough to register its existence, not to understand. “Uh, they smell like flowers. Sweet. Ya know.” Odd question. It made her wonder.

Something lurked just outside of view. But it was coming closer.

Morgan was too swept up in the rainbow spray of flowers to notice anything in the shadows. She was picking her way over to the edge of the patch so she could lay down without crushing any of them. She took out her phone and photographed the biggest flowers up close, and then from as close to ‘below’ as she could. “Pixie’s eye view, you know?” She teased. She really did want to find out if this was how Sundew and the rest of her pixie family saw the world, but Macleod didn’t need to know that. “Also, I think it would be pretty great if you actually had named them. Helga’s especially pretty.” She brushed her finger over the petals and tried to remember what they felt like. She would think of them when she touched Deirdre’s lips. Sometimes they were so smooth, just a little sticky with her matte color of the day. Maybe this flower was like that. Morgan smiled fondly at the association. At last she put her phone away and sat up, simply enjoying the light in the moment. She took a deep inhale, but all she got was a faint whiff of...flower. She couldn’t detect enough to separate anything besides that soft, pollen-y perfume. “I...had my sense of smell damaged in an accident,” she said at last. “Nothing’s like it used to be. But it’s okay, if you don’t know how to describe it. And it’s probably hard, with so many around…” She let the thought go with a sad sigh, then sat a little straighter, forcing herself to brighten. “How did you find this? I know it’s your job to be here, but it must have taken a while to notice.”

For a moment, Eilidh’s eyes glanced upon Maybe-Helga: a beautiful white flower with magenta freckles at the base of elongated petals. She wished she knew what they thought of the name. She’d try asking another time. “Hm, maybe.” Before musing on that thought for too long, she looked back at the sound of Morgan taking a deep breath. Watched as her features and her words darkened in the aftermath, a rolling cloud casting a shadow over the otherwise beautiful day. Eilidh wanted to help. But she couldn’t even pretend. The true complexities of their scents had been lost to the forgetfulness of time. A part of a life she pretended was fully disconnected from her. What she could detect now was all she could ever know. Not that it bothered her much; how could you miss something you never knew?

“I spend lots of time exploring. Probably too much.” She winked, pressing a finger on her lips. “Don’t tell anyone.” While she took her job seriously, she never understood the notion that her entire time had to be utilized for work, and work, and more work. What’s the point of being among flowers if she can’t (sort of) smell them? But that thought was pushed out when a rustle occurred just on the outskirts of the meadow. An intrigued hum rushed through her throat as she got a closer look of the– “Watermelon?” Odd. She hadn’t spotted it when they first got there. And watermelons don’t just appear out of nowhere. Taking another step forward, her eyes scanned the nearby area. Trying to detect whoever left it behind. Focus drawn elsewhere, the watermelon quickly rolled up to her without detection. She looked down and it rolled to a stop near her feet. As if struck by an invisible knife, it was cleaved in two. Fangs protruded out of each half, filling the newly opened space. Her eyes held curiosity at the action.

But it craved blood. Its fangs dug into her leg. With a shout, Eilidh started wrestling it off.

“Watermelon?” Morgan repeated. She had moved on to another flower, which had a pistil so large it made the flower look like a face with a long, odd nose, and was thinking of a person-name to give it. So she didn’t notice anything was wrong until Macleod screamed.

“Oh, shit--!”

Morgan scrambled to her feet and trampled through the flower patch to get to the other woman. “Hold on, you’re gonna be okay!” She shoved her arm between its wet melon jaws, forcing it loose enough for Macleod’s leg to come free. The melon, hungry for anything, chomped down on her arm, shredding her muscles to ribbons. Morgan clamped her jaw shut to muffle the sound of her scream and tried to bash the melon into the ground. But strong as she was, the melon was pretty hefty, and with the pain and awkwardness, she only managed to dent a few chunks off its bulbous shape. “I got this!” She choked out. “Get as far away as you can!”

Pent up force building up as she struggled, when the hold of the watermelon was released, Eilidh tumbled backwards. She shot back up to see… Morgan had taken her place? Eilidh didn’t know whether to be worried or impressed by her tenacity. But it was no time for introspection, it was clear Morgan was suffering. Eilidh stuck out the—non-chewed up—leg and fished out the iron dagger strapped to the thigh. Then she launched herself back into the fray. The blade struck deep into the green flesh. She pressed it forward, adding a new gash. But this time, no teeth sprouted out. Instead, it seized, trembling for a few moments, until stillness took over. The teeth relinquished themselves from Morgan.

She stared at the mangled arm. But something, something familiar, was off about it. “Fuck. Ok, let’s get you out of–” More rustling. Eilidh whipped her head to the sound. Two watermelons revealed themselves. Perhaps this was their area? She’d usually try and leave them alone at this point, if willing. Or in this instance, pick up Morgan and leave. But her leg was still healing, so she wasn’t sure if she’d be fast enough to outrun their roll. Making a decision, she gripped her leg, fingers encircling the flesh loosened by the first watermelon. She ripped off a chunk and threw it away from the flowers. Bait. Like hungry sharks, the two dived at the morsel. While they were distracted, she kicked into one so hard it bent her toes into the balls of her feet. The watermelon went flying into the trunk of a tree. Smash! Red chunks flew out of the mouth cavity as it rolled back onto the ground. Her eyes locked onto the remaining one. While her attention had been focused elsewhere, it had started making its move towards Morgan. But Eilidh interrupted, pouncing on it and sending stab after stab. It tried to roll away, the thing was surprisingly slippery considering, but with one final strike of her dagger, it stopped as well.

Morgan tumbled free and rolled onto the flowerbed. The watermelon’s teeth hurt coming out just as much as they’d hurt coming in. She dug her hands into the ground, ripping up grass as her arm knit itself back together again. “What are you doing? They’re gonna--” She turned her head toward the carnage. Macleod was--handling herself just fine? She saw the woman rip off her leg and use it as bait. The rest of Macleod’s watermelon slaughter passed in a daze. That woman had just ripped off her leg. She ripped off her leg like it was nothing and she didn’t have anything coming out of it except for a few black globs of blood. She didn’t even look phased. Was this what it felt like when people watched her cut off her fingers?

When the last watermelon had been stabbed to a pulp, Morgan sat up, staring at Macleod with open wonder. “You ripped off your leg to save me,” she said. “And I turned my arm into hamburger meat to save you.” She held out the still-healing arm for emphasis, laughing deliriously. The two of them pouncing on watermelons to save the day when neither of them were in danger of dying again. It was hilarious. “So...you’re a zombie too, huh?”

Eilidh looked over at the carnage. Hopefully those watermelons would have a better go next time. She nodded, a casual bow, with words leaving her lips, so soft they were illegible. She turned, remembering eyes were still on her. Passions had distracted her. In the heat of the moment, she forgot to consider how Morgan would react to, well, the way her body reacted to violence. Her leg was in clear view, already at work to reseal the newly torn muscles. There was no denying it; no future attempt at naivety. She considered her options. The grip on her dagger tightened. Wait, no, no, not that. Not again. She sighed. “Let’s just forget this and get you help.” But before she could pick up the injured woman, her eyes focused on her arm. The arm that was also in the process of healing. Same as her own tattered limb. Tissue that hadn’t been there just a moment prior concealed parts of the lesion, with more on the way. Where the fresh skin hadn’t been produced, a familiar black ooze leaked out. Arm mirrored leg. Realizing no real danger to Morgan was present, Eilidh relaxed. All the two needed was rest. She wished she had known that a minute earlier, though. Poor critters.

And there it was. That word. Tension returned, forcing her body into a straight fixture. Face contorted, words sour. “No, I’m not! I’m a–” She took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter what I am.” It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself rather than Morgan. “So you’re one then, yeah?”

“Oh, no!” Morgan said, grimacing with embarrassment. “It’s just. I’ve only seen two more of us. Ever. And one of them was my best friend who made me like this at the last minute. My last minute, not theirs, obviously. Uh--” None of these were the words she was actually trying to get out. “I’m not used to this. Or asking for personal terminology. Sorry. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I know the z word isn’t for everyone and I shouldn’t have assumed, I was just--” She looked at her haplessly. “It’s just been a really lonely time for me lately. And you’re--kind of incredible. And it does matter to me, what you want to be called. Very much. But yeah. I’m one too. A year now, so, still new. Newer at this than it feels like. How long have you been...you know? Do you meet a lot of people like us out here?”

While her ears listened to Morgan’s words, Eilidh’s eyes drifted to the blade in her hand—both slick and sticky with the juices of the fallen. Curiously—it was flesh after all—she gave it a lick, collecting the remnants of the slain creatures on her tongue. Nothing. She tasted nothing. Figures. She wiped the rest of the juices off with her sock before returning the dagger to its holster. Her eyes returned to looking, watching, Morgan. Studying her. The heat from her outburst still burned at her throat, but it started to cool as the woman’s words sunk in. The apology seemed genuine, and the attempt at reconciliation was appreciated. The creases on her face lifted, revealing a softer expression. Especially at the admittance to the newness of her existence and the loneliness following; at that she finally lifted her hands, patting the air in a calming motion. “It’s alright, it’s alright. That word is just—I hate it. But I’m not mad.” Not anymore, at least. The flow of apologetic words had been enough to calm Eilidh’s sudden temper. Brief silence followed as she looked Morgan up and down. Considering. “I’m a Slúagh. Similar to—yeah. But not the same. Guess we’re sorta like cousins in a way. Besides you, I’ve only met one zombie in White Crest. But I’ve seen a few here and there over the years.” Never another just like her, however. But she refrained from mentioning or even hinting at… them. That would only lead to further questions; questions she was not in the mood to answer. “And let’s just say I’m old.”

Morgan squirmed under the intensity of Macleod’s gaze. “Hated, noted,” she said. “I’ve never heard that other term before. Slu-aagh? Is it a regional thing, or a time period thing, do you think? But either way, I mean, all my birth family died before I did, so I barely remember what it’s like to have a cousin. This still feels really--I know we don’t have biochemical instant affinity for each other like fae do, but it feels wrong to brush off finding each other, when there don’t seem to be many of us who survive long enough to be found. And if we’re lucky, there won’t be many other people who can know us as long as we can. That, and we just saved each other…” She petered into laughter. “Even if we were pretty much fine the whole time. So, why not? Be friends, or as much as we can be to each other. Have you fed recently, by any chance? Because I have some meal prepped brain burgers at home, if you want. Or I could grab some of whatever you eat, if that’s something different. If you want, of course.”

“Slúagh.” The word rolled off her tongue naturally. “Not just a term. It’s what I am.” Eilidh insisted, that fire ready to return if resistance was found. At the following statement, Eilidh simply just stared. She couldn’t remember having—no, she’s never had a family. At least not biologically. Slúaghs can’t reproduce after all. No matter how much she had tried. With the mention of friendship, the blank expression plastered on her face shifted into the hint of a pleased one. Eyes widened in interest. It was always nice, making a new connection. And she was right. This existence could get lonely, in that sense. It was impossible to find those like her, and rare to run into those like Morgan. At least ones that had a good grip on themselves. Not everyone was cut out for their unique lifestyle, even with help. And moaning and groaning didn’t make for good conversation, though the wrestling could be fun. The other ones, well. Most acted like she was lying about who—what—she was. Sometimes the thought was enough to send her tempers firing. Enough to make her generally avoid association with them, in case of opposition. But for some reason she still craved that kinship. While the use of us didn’t go unnoticed, and her face had tensed at the usage, Morgan seemed to be less dismissive than the average. And those gentle eyes were very persuasive, inviting. Morgan reminded her of James; she should introduce them.

A drop of hunger stirred from within at the thought of feeding, dashing out any contemplation. “Nah. And getting your leg chewed to hell makes a gal hungry.” The damaged leg was close to appearing as if nothing happened, a craving the only reminder it did. She hummed curiously. “Brain burgers! Fun. I usually don’t bother cooking. So, brain burgers it is.” A small chuckle escaped her. “What a first friend date, though, huh?” She gestured to the watermelon gore surrounding them.

It meant far too much to Morgan to hear the word “friend date.” She was smiling too much. When she looked at the watermelon gore around them, she burst with laughter that startled two birds from their nest. She had to clench herself still to keep from bouncing. “Yes! I mean, to the burgers. They take awhile to make, getting some flavor to actually, you know, flavor, but they’re pretty nice! Not like what you remember, if you do remember, but it’s better than plain grey stuff.” And now she was talking too much again. As you do. Morgan got to her feet and dusted herself off. “But all this--” She gestured, laughing again. “I think that’s just how White Crest brings people together.”

#corpses in the meadow #wr eilidh #wr chatzy

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