#plus i think my cats would do their best to scatter the pieces all over the house | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

talkfantasytome · 3 years ago

Text

Bat Boys Photography

Nessian Week Prompt: Free Day

Cassian gets called to do a photoshoot for a new kitten. Not something he ever expected to do, but he's willing to give it a try. More than willing once he meets the kitten's mother.

Warnings: Innuendo 👀 | Word Count: 3,932| Read on AO3

a/n: Not edited. Don't come at me. 🙈

Honestly, I feel like I could've done this better - though it probably would've ended up longer too - but I was so much more inspired at the beginning than for the rest of the piece.

There are picture links scattered through - they're all my own cat, and I'm not sorry. He's gorgeous and he was a precious kitten. And a great inspiration for little Sellyn.

I also make no apologies for my head canon about Az. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Bat Boys Photography, this is Cassian."

"Hi!" an excited voice all but squealed on the other end of the line. "I have to say, that's such an interesting name choice, and I've been thinking a lot about it. Like, did you all get your start photographing bats? Or, are they just a mutual favorite animal?" Her voice lowered to a whisper as she spoke her next sentence. "Or, is it like, a weird kink or something? I mean, I read about things people do with, like, octopi…"

Cassian was frozen in his seat, on the verge of both horror and laughter.

The girl stopped and coughed softly, as if she realized what she was saying. "Sorry, anyway. I would like to book a photoshoot."

"Sure, no problem," Cassian sighed, grabbing out the appointment book. "What's the subject? And when would you like it done?"

"Okay, so, that's the thing - I'd like to do a photoshoot for this new kitten my housemate just got. He is literally the most precious thing and absolutely gorgeous! Only, well…kittens grow fast. Is there any way to do this within the week? I know it's short notice, but I didn't think about booking it until we actually got the baby!"

At this point Cassian was definitely holding in a chuckle. He'd heard people would do stuff like this for their pets - though more often it was for dogs - but he never expected to be hired for this. A cat photoshoot. He could understand a breeder wanting professional photos taken, or maybe for show animals - though he didn't love the concept of doing that to animals - but, just a house pet?

Well, it would be a new experience. And Cassian did like animals. Plus, he was a professional. He could give these girls the best photoshoot ever. He just might need to do some research.

"Actually, you're in luck," he said kindly, looking over the diary. "We had a cancellation for tomorrow afternoon. Would that work for you two?"

He heard a distant, delighted shriek at the other end of the line, as if she'd purposefully pulled the phone away from her head before making the noise. He appreciated the kindness.

"That would be wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I'm off tomorrow and Nesta, my housemate, managed to convince her firm to extend summer Fridays to be all year. Would three be okay? Or is that too late?"

"Three is fine. What's your name?" he asked, having already jotted down the name Nesta.

"Oh, right! Sorry! It's Gwyn," she answered, her voice clearly still giddy. "And the address is 55 Wind Way."

"That's in The House district, right?" Cassian had a pretty solid understanding of the layout of Velaris, but it was a big city, very spread out, a bit like London or Sydney. And, instead of zones, they had districts, often named based on the general lifestyle or living arrangements in the area. He and his brothers lived in The Steppes, as their district was called, because it bordered the Steppes mountain range to the east of the city. The House was just south of there, its name given to it because it was full of actual, detached houses, instead of apartment buildings and town homes. The houses were also often fairly spread out, some bordering the woods at the south of Velaris. Most were fairly quaint and sat on about an acre of land, which was what differentiated The House from the other districts with detached houses, which all tended to offer much less space around the house.

"Yes! It, like, kinda borders The Steppes district. We're at the very end of our street, and there's a backdrop of woods and mountains behind our yard."

"Thanks." He wrote down the address and then went into his spiel about payments. Pricing, acceptable methods, and so on, then hung up the phone just as Az walked into their shared office, which was also the third bedroom in the house they shared. Az had been adamant about not wasting money on an office, even once they really started to make enough from photography to do so and fund their livelihoods.

"You'll never guess what I just booked," Cassian chuckled, turning to face his brother.

"Dog shoot?" Az asked, taking a seat at his computer to start working on photo edits.

"Almost…how do you do that?" Cassian knew he sounded exasperated, but Az always seemed to figure it out, even with no context clues.

"They're becoming more popular, and I know you think they're a lame reason to do a professional photoshoot," he explained easily.

"Well, it's not a dog shoot, so ha ha."

"Cat shoot, then?"

"Yes," Cassian grumbled. One day he'd find a way to surprise Az. One day. "Kitten shoot, technically. Tomorrow afternoon at three. Bit of a later appointment, but at least now we've got something coming in from tomorrow afternoon."

"Kitten shoot? That does sound adorable," Az breathed with a small laugh, turning to face Cassian. "I'll take it, if you want. My afternoon is free as well, and I am better with cats."

Cassian's face fell. "No you're not!" he argued. He loved animals, and he refused to agree with that statement, no matter how factually true it might seem.

Azriel's only response was a raised eyebrow.

"You can come with me," he offered. "And I can prove you wrong."

"One day, you're going to learn to stop trying."

"Whoa!" the redhead sighed, opening the door to see Cassian and Azriel on her front porch. She was looking up at them in shock. "You're so tall!"

"Are you Gwyn?" Cassian guessed. She sounded a bit like the one who had called, but people generally sounded a bit different on the phone.

"Yes, sorry, hi!" she exclaimed, giving them a wide smile that spread to her teal eyes.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Cassian," he said, introducing himself first. "This is my brother, Azriel. He'll be my assistant for the day." He gave his brother a shit-eating grin, earning a large eye roll in return as Gwyn looked Az over, something like interest or delight in her eyes.

"Great to meet you both as well! Come on in!"

Gwyn stepped aside, welcoming them both into the house.

It wasn't exactly small, but with him and Az standing in the foyer, it definitely felt rather cramped, but still cute. To their left was an archway that led into a comfortable yet stylish living room decorated in hues of gold, crimson, and orange. There were stairs to their right, Cassian assumed the upstairs was their bedrooms, and down the hallway he could see a smaller archway that led to a kitchen that seemed to have a very light vibe with white counters and cabinets.

"I'll go get-" Gwyn started, but before she could finish another voice rang through the house, sounding like it was coming from the kitchen.

"When do they get here, again?" the cold yet beautiful voice called, and Cassian could hear light footsteps from another room. "I still can't believe we're doing this. I mean, I know Sellyn is pretty enough, but it feels a bit sil-"

The voice halted abruptly as a woman with golden brown hair eyes appeared in the threshold of the kitchen, stopping in her tracks as she took in Cassian and Azriel.

Cassian's own eyes widened as he took her in. The sharp yet fluid lines of her face, her lean and curved body, the way she stood with her head held high. She had a slightly pointed nose and cheeks flushed with just the barest natural pink, and her hair was currently falling in loose curls, parted to the side and framing her face. But, what really grabbed Cassian's attention was the blue grey eyes that were focused on him. They were like little storm clouds, thundering in the distance, always ready to strike.

She was the most beautiful woman Cassian had ever seen.

He barely had a chance to catch his breath before she started speaking again.

"Oh, hi. I didn't realize you were already here. And sorry, I don't mean to be rude about your profession, of course," she started, eyes darting between him and Azriel awkwardly. "It's nothing personal, it's just, Sellyn's a cat, what's he going to do? Post these photos on his instagram? I mean, okay, yes, I probably will post some of them, and I'm sure they'll get some lovely responses, but he's been picking up a lot of followers with just my iPhone…It's not like these are going to be officially published for anything else, I don't think. Then again, you never know what Gwyn might set her mind on, but I don't want him to be a show cat, and I don't think he wants it either. He just wants to have fun and be loved, you know?"

Cassian stared in wonder at the woman, standing like an ice queen, babbling with a blush spreading across her face. It was a glorious contradiction that she pulled of perfectly.

"Don't worry, Cassian feels the same way about pet photoshoots," Az chuckled, slapping Cassian on the back and pulling him from his frozen stare.

"That's not true," Cassian lied, an apologetic look on his face. "We just haven't done one of these before, but it will be great. We'll make sure your kitten is having fun." He offered the woman a kind, hopefully encouraging smile. "And, as my brother pointed out, I'm Cassian. And he's Azriel, but you can ignore him if you'd prefer."

She nodded politely. "Nesta."

"That's a beautiful name, Nesta." A name that felt so perfect on his lips Cassian had to make sure he schooled his features so as not to give his thoughts away. But he knew he'd be using it as often as he could.

Looking down for a second, Cassian noticed a white head with light, orange color points poking out from Nesta's leg, bright blue eyes staring at him.

"This must be the kitten," he said softly, a gentle smile on his face as he looked at the fluffy, adorable little body. The cat couldn't be more than five pounds.

"Yes, that's Sellyn," Gwyn responded, Nesta's eyes watching Cassian closely as he knelt down and put his hand out to see if the kitten would come.

Based on that look, he definitely wanted to make sure he didn't do anything wrong. Nesta looked like she might eat him alive if he so much as made the wrong sound.

"That's quite an interesting name," he offered, his stare still on the small kitten, who was looking at him and his hand with wide eyes.

"He's named after a romance author we both adore," Nesta explained, still watching Cassian despite the fact that Sellyn wasn't moving one inch closer to him.

"Sellyn Drake?" Azriel guessed, the other three all snapping to look at him.

"You know him?" Cassian asked in shock, giving up and standing just as Nesta bent down to pick up the kitten.

He went limp like a ragdoll when she first picked him up before he curled into her chest, looking impossibly smaller in her arms and so comfortable. Her face soften as she looked down at Sellyn, one arm holding him, the other now moving as she gently pet his head. The purrs sounded through the foyer, louder than any he'd ever heard before, and the two looked so happy and content Cassian wished he already had his camera ready.

"Unlike you, I do visit book stores," Azriel shot at him, a knowing smirk on his face that Cassian caught when he finally looked away from Nesta and Sellyn.

"The romance section?" Cassian argued. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, and now small amount of satisfaction spread through him as he watched Az's cheeks flush a bright red.

"You read romance novels?" Gwyn gasped, her face opening into a look of sheer excitement.

Nesta 'hmm'd' from where she stood before saying flatly, "That's hot."

"What?" Cassian and Az said it at the same time, both looking at her in confusion.

"There's a reason romance is so popular," Nesta explained. "It's what we all actually want - the more everyone reads it, the more we'll be able to give to our partners."

Azriel seemed to be pleased with that statement, nodding lightly, but the blush was still there. Cassian was starting to wonder if maybe he should try picking up a romance novel or two.

"I'll keep that in mind," he muttered, his eyes back on Nesta. They kept finding their way back to her, as if they were trying to spend as much time as possible looking at her before being forced away at the end of the appointment. He agreed with his eyes - photographs wouldn't be the same.

Her stare found his, a small smirk on her lips at the comment he'd made. "Do let me know if you ever read one." There was amusement in her tone, and something else that had Cassian's heart racing.

Now he was definitely going to be picking one up. Or stealing a novel from Az, since apparently he had a few hidden away somewhere in their house.

"So, should we get started?" Gwyn suggested, walking toward Nesta and petting Sellyn behind the ear.

Cassian and Az both nodded, Az starting to unpack some of the equipment. It was a light load - just a few cameras, really - since it was a relatively small shoot.

"We can begin with Nesta and Sellyn, if that works for you all? Since he's already so happily situated in her arms," Cassian offered, his eyes back on Sellyn for a moment. The kitten looked like he was in paradise in his mother's arms.

They all agreed and Cassian got started, suggesting different poses, places for Nesta to sit, ways to hold Sellyn, who Nesta needed to keep one hand on at all times to keep in place. He took pictures of the two on the couch, the autumnal aesthetic working perfectly with the backdrop of the woods in the window, the trees in all different shades of red, yellow, and orange.

He had Nesta keep Sellyn on her lap, one hand petting him as she looked out the window, read a book, looked into the camera. There were some with her standing and holding him close, a couple with her and Sellyn on the floor, playing with a dangling toy. His favorites were the ones where she was completely focused on Sellyn. Her face changed and her eyes brightened as she smiled down at the kitten, as if unable to do anything but whenever she looked at him.

After playing for a bit, Sellyn was too riled up to do pictures with Gwyn, so they let him roam around, Cassian and Az doing their best to snap photographs of him and his little actions while Gwyn and Nesta egged him on.

Cassian's favorite was a two piece set he caught of Sellyn hunting a pillow. First he eyed the pillow like a predator, a look Cassian was certain he learned from his mother. And then he found success as he nibbled on the corner.

Professional hunter right there.

In that time, Cassian and Az each took a break, both trying to get a chance to play with the kitten for a bit, Cassian still determined to prove Az wrong. And he was failing miserably.

Sellyn, it seemed, loved to play with Az, and Cassian had to listen to both girls coo over how adorable the two were together as Sellyn would swat at the toy in Az's hand, or how he walked on top of Az's chest when Az was laying down.

Cassian, on the other hand, Sellyn seemed disinterested in.

He didn't actually hate Cassian. He just chose not to engage or interact with him in any way. It was rather depressing, as was the grin plastered on Az's face each time Sellyn ignored Cassian.

It, somehow, made it worse that this was Nesta's cat. That her pet, one she would likely use to help judge other people - considering so many other people did - didn't seem to have any interest in him.

Not that it should matter, of course. Nesta and Gwyn were clients he'd never see again. Or, at least, he didn't have to see them again, but damn him if he didn't want to. Especially after hearing Nesta laugh as Sellyn nibbled on her ear. It was soft, a meldoy that spread through his entire being.

He managed to grab a picture of that, and then another one of a big yawn.

"Oh, looks like he's getting sleepy," Nesta sighed. "Are you doing any pictures of just Gwyn and Sellyn."

"Um, yes!" Gwyn answered before either boy could even breathe. "I'm his other mother, I'm not some silly aunt."

Nesta chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Then I'd suggest doing those now."

"I can do those," Az offered, making Cassian's head snap up to his brother, a curious smirk growing on his face.

"All right," he agreed, setting down his own camera in his bag and walking toward where Nesta was now leaning against the archway. "These pictures are going to come out great," he said by way of greeting.

"Yeah?" she breathed, turning her head to look up at him.

"Definitely."

"Even if you find these photoshoots pointless?" she challenged.

Cassian huffed out a laugh. "I think you all proved me wrong."

"You mean Gwyn proved you wrong."

"No," he responded, his gaze growing intense as he stared into her stormy eyes. "It would have been pointless without you."

He saw Nesta gulp, her breath hitching as crimson flooded her cheeks. She looked down at her feet, not responding, and Cassian wanted to lift her face back up to look back into those eyes of steel. But he didn't. He turned to watch Azriel work and waited for Nesta to say something again.

He didn't miss the way his brother was smiling idiotically as he photographed Gwyn with Sellyn. Likely a mirror image to what Cassian had looked like earlier.

Nesta stiffened slightly beside him once she finally lifted her head, almost as if bracing herself for something, but she kept her gaze on her kitten as her voice filled the air again.

"Gwyn and I order take out every Friday. If you'd like, you and your brother would be welcome to join us," she said, her voice tentative and shaky. As if she was worried she was embarrassing herself.

She wasn't looking to see Cassian's face completely brighten at the offer, to notice the absurdly large smile he was now wearing. "We'd like that," he answered, his own voice cracking as he attempted to not sound too eager. He was sure he failed, seeing as what he wanted to do was jump up and down and shout a resounding 'yes'. He doubted Nesta would react favorably to that, so he decided to try something else. "But, only if you let us pay."

He watched as the corner of Nesta's lip twitched upward. "If we weren't already paying you I might argue, but since we are, happy to accept that offer," she replied as she tucked a strand of that golden brown hair behind her ear. Gods above. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to lift his own hand and brush it through her hair, then keep trailing it down to wrap it around her waist and hold her close, inhale her scent deeply.

Instead, they just stood there, a thick tension forming between them with each breath they took. He could see her chest rise and fall in his peripheral, the movements becoming bigger as if she were taking deeper breaths to calm something within her. He knew he was. The pounding heart, the jittery sensations spreading through his limbs, the constant swarm in his stomach that made him wonder if he'd actually be able to eat any of that dinner he'd now offered to pay for.

It wasn't much longer before Az and Gwyn were done and he was helping pack up their remaining equipment. They'd both agreed easily about the boys joining the girls for dinner, and soon enough all four were sitting on the large, crimson sectional as they waited for their food, Cassian and Nesta on one part of the 'L', Gwyn and Az on the other. The couch was comfortable, but Cassian felt it was a bit too big, allowing for far too much space between him and Nesta.

Sellyn jumped up and sat between Az and Gwyn for a moment, scanning the couch as if looking for the best spot, and Az shot him another smirk.

"Told you so," he said as he gave Sellyn a small scratch beneath the chin.

"Yeah, yeah, you win, cats love you more," Cassian grumbled, leaning back in his seat.

Nesta tilted her head at him. "Have you two been competing for my cat's affection?"

Cassian grinned at her playfully. "Not exactly the way I would define it, but the results are essentially the same."

"He didn't believe me when I told him yesterday I was better with cats," Az explained as Sellyn stepped on and then off of Gwyn's lap, slowly making his way around the sofa.

"At least he doesn't actively hate me," Cassian sighed. Sellyn gave a tiny 'mrah', as if to say he agreed, and then hopped over Nesta's lap, now circling the spot between her and Cassian.

"I'm sure he likes you just fine," Nesta offered kindly. "He's generally more shy around new people - I mean, he hid under the couch when our friend Emerie first came to meet him. Took him an hour to come out."

"And he never came out when Nesta's sisters stopped by," Gwyn added.

"That does make me feel a bit better," Cassian chuckled, slowly offering his hand for Sellyn to sniff.

For the first time, the cat allowed him to pet him, leaning into the hand that was almost as long as his whole body.

Then, to Cassian's complete surprise, Sellyn walked over and climbed into his lap, kneading his legs a bit before curling up into a little circle and shutting his eyes, his breathing evening out almost instantly. Cassian, on the other hand, almost stopped breathing entirely at the feel of this tiny little thing curling up on him, choosing his lap to sleep in. He now understood why Nesta was always watching the cat, her eyes glazed with a protectiveness akin to what one might see in a lioness' as she watched her cub.

In one move Sellyn had managed to wrap Cassian completely around his paw. And Cassian doubted it would take much longer for Nesta to do the same.

Nesta let out a breathed 'aww' at that and shift closer, softly stroking his head as he slept. "See?" she said softly. "He just thought you'd be a better cuddler than playmate."

Her scent hit him as she leaned over, crisp and warm and entrancing, and it struck him stupid. He felt his heart skip a beat as she continued to lean close, her shoulder brushing hers as she softly pet the kitten.

"I can assure you, Nesta," he whispered, low and guttural. Her eyes met his, and he was certain she could see the mischievous twinkle in his, a sparkle in her own a response to the unspoken words that accompanied his next comment. "I am more than adept at both playing and cuddling."

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @nehemikkele @nestaisgod @julemmaes @live-the-fangirl-life @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @bo0kmaster69 @angelic-voice-1997 @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nessianweek

120 notes · View notes

bbytetsu · 4 years ago

Text

SIGNS

pairing: osamu miya x gn! reader

word count: ~3k

author’s note: angst. warnings for slight swearing, very slight suggestiveness. best read to signs by bloc party.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you’re reminded of how deeply you’ve fallen in love.

as you exit the subway station, you’re greeted by the familiar intersection splitting off into narrow streets, each lined by streetlights. the outskirts of osaka are humble, with their greige painted walls and steep, weathered roofs. but the ordinary things here—the 7/11, the spinning barber pole, the cat lingering by the red mailbox—are like landmarks to you, noticed and loved by your crescent eyes. scanning your surroundings, you turn left towards his apartment and continue straight.

5 minutes away from his place.

you amble past the 7/11 store. traces of nikuman waft in the cold air, inviting you in. you catch yourself smiling as you see the regular obasan, red-rimmed glasses perched on her leathery skin, bantering with the store owner—they’re definitely flirting, you think. through the wide windows, you watch the local high school boys’ volleyball team scatter throughout the rainbow aisles. some squat just below your field of vision, others pore through magazines by the register.

3 minutes away from his place.

you take a left. on your right, you pass the family-owned barber shop he visits. its endlessly spinning barber pole is a welcome dash of color amidst the neutral hues of the neighborhood. across from the shop stands the house with the red mailbox. the family’s calico cat idles dangerously close to the road and licks it paws before wandering off.

1 minute away from his place.

you pass the empty bike rack, and the gated residence comes into sight at the end of the street.

it’s all the same, but suddenly it’s not.

small fluffs of white begin to obscure your vision. you glance up at the sky, and your eyes widen—it’s snowing. juxtaposed against the osaka skyline, it’s almost as if the city lights are disintegrating, their embers falling around you in the form of bright snowflakes. you watch the snow in a trance, and before you know it, winter has draped a sheer white veil over the street, dusted over naked trees with its snowy kiss.

on the winter day marking your first year together, you feel as if your love for him has overflowed and trickled out from your chest. and now it surrounds you in the form of snow. falling so softly, so wonderfully dizzyingly.

----------

“i’m here, ‘samu,” you call out in a singsong voice as you twist your spare key in the lock. pushing open the door, you’re stunned to find his place completely dark. you step into the apartment and wrangle your boots off of your feet.

“’samu? you here?” with your eyes trained on the floor for any potential tripping hazards, you tread through the dim foyer.

“yeah, i’m here.” his familiar voice rings out, partially relieving your confusion. you look up to search for his figure.

“why’s it so- oh my god, what’s all this?” you nearly trip into the kitchen. you gasp at the sight of candles casting golden highlights across the dinner table. slivers of mahogany peek in between plates of nigiri, bowls of miso, and other tableware. in the center of the table, a glass vase holds two crimson roses, petals coated with glassy dewdrops.

you try to collect your thoughts. “i thought we were just meeting here,” you pause to think. “wait, did our dinner reservation get canceled? did you call me earlier? i might’ve missed it...” you fumble for your phone in your coat pocket.

he grins a slightly lopsided grin. “ya still haven’t caught on? i didn’t actually make a reservation, i was just tryna surprise ya… seeing as ya like surprises and all that. plus,” he clears his throat. “why would we go out to dinner when i can make it myself? i hear their wasabi isn’t even freshly made.”

you’re silent as tears well up in your eyes.

“hey, you’re not about to cry, are ya?” he’s unsure whether to poke fun of you or embrace you in a warm hug.

“i just can’t believe you did this all yourself,” you whisper, still fixated on the feast in front of you. even to your untrained eyes, you can tell that each each piece was handled with precision, delicacy, but above all, love. the air between you feels thick and honeyed, suffused with all the feelings brimming in your chest.

“i mean, i do this for a living.” you glance up at him. he shrugs, but you notice the tender twinkle in his eye.

“i know, but it’s still amazing. i don’t even know what to say,” you confess.

“ya don’t have to say anythin’,” he murmurs. “just let me enjoy the quiet for once.”

“huh?” your eyebrows furrow, but your lips curl into a faint smile. “okay, i take it back. you better be prepared to listen to me all night.”

he cocks his eyebrow. “why? is there something ya wanna do all night?”

“‘SAMU! don’t twist my words,” you lunge towards him. he recoils.

“oi, relax!!”

just as you’re about land a solid smack on his ass, he maneuvers behind you and folds his strong arms around you in a back hug. laughing, you squirm in his embrace, but he doesn’t budge.

“gotcha,” he huffs into your ear. he loosens his grip around you, allowing you to wriggle your arms above and over his. you intertwine your fingers with his, and the two of you sway from side to side like in a slow dance. he pulls your body closer to his chest.

“happy anniversary,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that speaking any louder will disrupt the romantic atmosphere he’s so diligently crafted.

of course, you know that nothing could ruin this moment.

“mhm. happy anniversary to us.”

with his eyes closed, he breathes in your scent. the two of you are quiet—there is no need for words. the way your limbs melt into each other, no beginning or end to either of you, is enough for the both of you.

he loves you. you love him.

he’s thankful that sushi doesn’t need to be served hot. he’d hold you here for an eternity if he could.

----------

it’s funny how things change throughout the years.

you sit motionless, with both of your elbows pressed against the cold mahogany of the table. when you first sat down, the sun had just begun to creep below the skyline, wispy streaks of reds and yellows blazing in its wake. now, the sun was long gone, and your only companion was the moon, whom you know all too well these days. round and low in the dark sky, it casts shadows across the empty dinner table.

the apartment is silent besides the quiet ticking of the kitchen clock.

tick, tock. as if it’s a bomb waiting to explode. as if it’s mocking you for waiting so long. as if it’s counting down the time you have left with him.

you lean your forehead against your hands, clasped in a silent prayer. with your eyes closed, you allow any and all emotions to wash over you.

how could you forget our anniversary? does our relationship even matter to you? do i even matter to you? why am i always your second choice? how did things end up this way?

the muffled jangle of keys outside the door interrupts your thoughts, and the lock clicks as it turns open. hours ago, you would have perked up at the sound, but now it’s been much too late. you remain motionless. after shaking his shoes off, he walks into the dim kitchen to find you sitting at the dinner table, your forehead still pressed against your clasped hands.

“you forgot,” you whisper, refusing to look at him.

“i know, y/n. i’m so-”

you cut him off. “you could’ve called. or texted.”

“i’m so sor-”

“save it. i’ve been sitting here for the last… i don’t even know how many hours. and i’ve just been thinking about what to say.”

he’s quiet. how many more mistakes will it take for you to realize he no longer loves you like he used to? you shudder at the thought, but are unable to ignore it any longer. you’ve opened pandora’s box, unleashing thick smoke that swallows you whole. it clouds your every thought and contaminates your memories with him; it stings your eyes and steals the breath from your lungs.

you begin to shake, and he watches as your breaths shorten into small, erratic gasps. his chest tightens at the sight. kneeling down onto the ground to level himself with with your seated figure, he stretches his arms towards you. but to his shock, you flinch at his touch.

“don’t!” you gasp. “don’t come near me. i don’t want that-” you’re unable to finish your sentence, sudden gasps curbing whatever words were to come next.

“y/n, i’m sorry.” his voice is low, his mouth sours with dread.

“i know. but it’s not the first time that you’ve done something like this. remember my birthday?” you choke out, burying your face in your palms.

he grimaces at the mention. “i do. but ya said ya wouldn’t bring that up again. i thought we agreed to move past that.”

“well, yeah we did. but the thing is, it’s become a pattern.”

he stands up and hovers by your seated figure. “me forgetting? it’s happened two or three times. i wouldn’t say that’s a pattern. but listen, i know i was in the wrong and and that’s why i wanna say i’m sorry. i really am.”

you look up at him with puffy, bleary eyes. red tinges your waterline. “you just don’t get it, do you?”

“whaddya mean?” his mind scrambles. get what? he replays your interactions in a frantic attempt to uncover whatever deeper meaning he was missing.

“it’s not just you missing our anniversary, or you missing my birthday. it’s so much bigger than that. all of this,” you wave your hand. “is just a symptom of the bigger problem.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i wasn’t aware we had a bigger problem.”

his lack of awareness shocks you. how can you be so unobservant, so oblivious? all the sorrow and rage that you’ve repressed begins to bubble and overflow, like a pot of boiling water with its lid on for too long. you ball your fists as hot, stinging tears run down your cheeks. “you wanna know what it is, ‘samu?” you straighten your back and turn towards him. “it’s the fact that you no longer have room in your life for me! admit it, onigiri miya is more important to you than i am!”

“what’s onigiri miya gotta do with all this?” he retorts. his voice is grating. “i know i’ve been busy with work, but ya couldn’t possibly think that. you’ve always supported me and my dream of running my own damn restaurant, but now it’s the problem with us? the fact that i have a dream?”

“no, the fact that your dream doesn’t include me,” your voice quivers. “there’s no space for me in your future, ‘samu.”

“oh come on, ya know that’s not true. i’ve just been busy keeping up with it, especially with how business is growing.”

anger flares within you. how dare he dismiss your concerns as if they’re not legitimate? as if you’re nothing more than a small child whining for candy?

“but think about it!” you shoot up from your chair and look him in the eye. “when you envision yourself in 5 years, what do you think about? you think about onigiri miya, you think about how business is booming, critics are raving about your cooking. you’re raking in so much cash you’ve opened a new restaurant and you’re standing there in front of the new place, and maybe you’re cutting the ribbon for the grand opening. but am i there? am i standing next to you anywhere in your dream? do you think about us, where we’re going to be in five years? no, no you don’t. i’m not anywhere in the picture and you know it.”

even in the dark, you can see his jaw clench. the rest of his features grow rigid with frustration.

he, too, has reached his boiling point.

“how can ya possibly say that?” he seethes, his tone unforgiving like steel slicing through palpable air. “i told ya already, y/n. i’m sorry. i fucked up. i missed our anniversary. i even missed your birthday. but that is not the reason we won’t work out, i won’t let that be the reason. ya know i love ya. i do. but ya wanna pit yourself against my job... don’t ya think that’s a little unfair? for fuck’s sake, not even my job, but my dream? ya know how it’s been a dream of mine since forever to open my own shop. ya know how hard it’s been, how i shed blood, sweat, and tears to open it, much less to keep it going. of all people, ya know how hard it was for me to find something i wanted alone, something that was different than ‘tsumu’s. something that would let me be my own person. and now i’ve finally found it ya wanna take it away? all because ya need attention?”

his words leave a metallic aftertaste, and he watches your features twist in pain as you confirm your growing suspicions.

he’s outgrown me.

“i- i’m sorry. i know that you’re not trying to take anything away from me,” he confesses. he wants so desperately to take back his mangled words, but it’s too late. he’s dropped a lit match onto your bed of oil, setting flame to what he once knew.

you stand up shakily and face him: the man who taught you what it meant to love. the man who taught you what it meant to hurt.

“you’re right, i’m not. but you know what?” your voice cracks before growing raspier. “thanks for telling me that. because when i imagined my future, i always imagined a future in which you were by my side. i thought we’d move in together someday, maybe even get a dog, maybe even get married, maybe even have—oh, i don’t know—kids, and move into a house! help them with their math homework! take them to the aquarium, go on family picnics! make onigiri on sundays! but, i guess i’ve been a fucking fool, haven’t i?”

he looks at you with wide, dinner plate eyes.

you choke back sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the wet tears trailing down your cheeks. your heart weighs heavier than lead, and you turn on your heels.

“i- y/n, wait, where are ya going?” he reaches for you, the tips of his fingers brushing against your arm as you shoulder past him.

“outside. to think.”

as he realizes you have every intention of leaving the apartment, he trips into the hallway after you.

“wait, it’s fuckin’ freezing outside-”

“ii’ll be fine.” you forcefully grab the woolen coat off the coat rack and swing it over your shoulders.

“y/n. please, we can work this out.” you’ve never heard him like this—quiet, but painfully desperate.

too late.

“i need to think.”

you step through the doorway, not daring to look back.

----------

you trudge through the half melted snow that coats the street. as your eyes burn with tears, the faraway osaka city lights blur in your vision like a kaleidoscope. shivering, you dig your bare hands further into your pockets and clench onto the fabric—an attempt to preserve whatever heat there is, but more so as an expression of your anger.

your legs seem to move by themselves, and you grit your teeth to keep yourself from crying. how did things end up like this?

1 minute away from his place.

you hurry past the empty bike rack and the brick walls guarding the houses. the greige walls have never looked grayer.

3 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the house with the red mailbox, its obnoxious color like a warning that’s much too late. the calico cat has abandoned you and is nowhere to be seen. the spinning barber pole taunts you with its endless dance.

5 minutes away from his place.

you pass by the 7/11. there’s no one in the store except for the regular obasan, whose wrinkles are drawn taut in a frown. you watch as she fires words at the shopowner, her one hand pointing at him animatedly and the other resting on her hip. they’re definitely arguing, you think.

you finally reach the open intersection in front of the subway station. leaning against a streetlight, you survey the neighborhood defeatedly, trying to find beauty in the surroundings you once regarded with so much affection. trying to find a sign. water seeps off of branches and falls onto the pavement like teardrops. the steep-roofed houses huddle together in the cold, their walls practically rubbing against each other.

it’s all the same, but it’s somehow different.

you look down at your feet, slush coating the edges of your shoes. it pains you to see that the the snow is no longer bright or pure, but translucent. tinted an ugly brown. with footprints littered across its surface.

on the winter day marking your fourth year together, the snow you loved so much has melted into slush, revealing nothing but barren soil beneath.

it’s over between us.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #osamu imagine #osamu miya imagine #miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n #osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #bbytetsu

531 notes · View notes

papers4me · 4 years ago

Text

Fruits Basket, SE03, Ep3

This ep is exactly like se02, ep 24, meaning it was divided clearly into two parts. While the graduation theme unties the two parts, you can point things out exactly like ep,24:

1st part : Machi’s story= the important part.

2nd part: scattered parts here & there that concern yuki, ep, 24 his interactions with akito, here his interactions with Motoko).

plus, an ep cliff hanger: (e, 24 the dvd given to kureno, here, Isuzu’s mysterious fate).

it is exactly the same even a small kyo/tohru moment!. School graduation instead of the zodiac’s new year gathering.

Really awkward pacing, but that’s furuba, we celebrate when they DO connect dots for once! lets talk abt the REAL ep: MACHI.

-Machi’s awkward presence:

Although I love Machi, I’ve voiced my concerns abt her character in Furuba:

It seemed that Machi was solely created to be a step in yuki’s success journey more than a character on her own right. After getting motherly love (tohru) leaving the nest, Yuki needed friendship (kakeru), then as an independent man, he needs romantic love: (Machi). This is all fine initially but I was yearning for more individuality for Machi as a character. All furuba characters were given space to be unique including minor characters like Motoko who narrated her own story each time she’s on screen & we lived it with her within two seasons & a number of eps.

However, Machi’s background was introduced thro her brother’s exposition in se02 & that moment was a yuki/ kakeru bonding moment.

Thro kakeru’s exposition we learned how similar yuki & machi are (the parental neglect, high expectations, cold sibling relationship, Big brother saves himself by himself, big brother pushing for redemption & the younger sibling’s still trapped silently ). While that makes for romantic appeal between the two which makes the writer’s job easier, it steals from Machi individuality.

Then her part in ep, 24 was shown & I was given hope for Machi’s individuality as her own inner voice spoke volumes abt her as a person away from yuki (romantic interest) or Kakeru (big brother). Having a lot of screen time, while can make a character more believable to the audience, is never a factor in character’s depth nor individual worth. Heck! kyo (part of the main trio & the main character’s love interest) has only ONE ep in se02 to explore his issues & by far it is my fave ep in se02 as it established kyo’s trauma, psyche, mental issues & emotional baggage better than I could ever imagine! You can DO WONDERS with little time if you knew what to do. That’s what happened with Machi this ep (half ep).

-Machi’s shines! (trauma & romance):

I was so relieved to learn that altho both Machi & yuki despised perfection as it suffocated them, the writer (thankfully) went abt a different approach with Machi. Unlike Yuki who went silent cuz he felt his voice didn’t matter as he was used as a tool, Machi went silent cuz she was was NOT needed, & not only discarded but painted as WRONG. If you admit that raising me this way is wrong, then what does this make me? What should I do with myself? I’m wrong! boring, a failure, & a presumed killer!! all while I was absolutely doing my best! all while I was having good intentions! It is devastating but It makes Machi real. A character on her own right with her own trauma, struggle, pain & outlook on life. Although, the writer made the whole yuki/Machi meeting orchestrated by Kakeru to quickly make the two siblings one step closer, it worked cuz kakeru chose to not interfere after setting the scene. He played a subtle mach maker & tried to find happiness for his sister silently. Kakeruy is yuki’s best buddy & Machi becoming the girlfriend, the trio will have to hang out more which will slowly but surely warm Machi towards Kakeru. While the flat visit is the part where Machi open the lid to Yuki with a spark of romance at the end, the chalk scene is the romantic part! Not only did Yuki noticed her panic & saved her by breaking a piece of chalk, she secretly remembered his promise! “ lets make footprints on the snow”. The snow that was another source of anxiety attack, is now sth she looks forward to & prays for! Truly romantic!!! Well-done writer.

Side Notes:

I know furuba is shoujo & it’s abt love, but C’mon! where did Nao/ Motoko come from??!! XDD Who is left without love interest? Kyo’s rejected fangirl loved by one of kyo’s buddies? The maids in love with Akito? Momiji? Who does Kimi love besides money? XD

Yuki once observed that kyo makes tohru happy with small things, Today he did the same! A broken piece of chalk.

Yuki/ Machi romantic scenes contrast Yuki/ tohru forced romantic scene at the earlier seasons. There is no lame cringy lines like “ I’ll kidnap you & go to a vacation” or kissing a ribbon. There is NO acting or pretentious lines. Here a piece of chalk did the trick, an understanding of her tears & a head pat, a promise to walk on snow together! Congratulations Yuki, You made it into romantic boyfriends category! XD. also, good writing!

The Bra scene is the real comedy in the ep.

Arisa’s “ kyon, we won’t forgive you if you hurt tohru” is gold cuz kyo WILL. When it’s time to confess he knew kyoko & she HATES him & doesn’t forgive him, tohru would be hurt! Even if she wasn’t in love with kyo!!! Knowing your beloved’s last words were hateful is painful!! Add to this that tohru loves kyo & would be struggling between forgiving him or not!! Add to this that kyo might NOT want to be forgiven!!

“ I won’t forgive you”. kyo’s haunting reminder that he’s unforgivable is now shared by kyoko, yuki, Hana & Arisa!!

look, you might argue that furuba’s romantic writing might be a bit awkward with all sorts of romantic couples, age gaps, the need for everybody to be in love one way or the other & so on, but the traumatic behavioral writing is the best!!!!! I was never disappointed with how Takaya write abused traumatized children’s behavior. One of my fave scenes is yuki/ kyo in the stairs in se02 where kyo lashed out on yuki & yuki was over it. While that scene was rightfully celebrated for yuki’s triumphant attitude as he got over his trauma, I love it for the realistic trauma filled attitude of kyo, all charged with kyoko’s flashback! He’s in deep & he’s all by himself! Kyo will hurt tohru cuz he loves her just like how kazuma hurt him by forcefully taking his bracelet cuz he loves him. Kyo will be thinking it is for the best, who would want to be with someone that kyoko of all ppl hates!

I’ll tolerate all the weird love couples in furuba, but the moment trauma is written weakly I’ll drop the show. There is NO way, kyo will confess kyoko’s lines then go “sorry abt that tohru, we’re good?”

Back to Machi, I really hope that her trauma isn’t merely wrapped up cuz yuki loved her. Furuba was never abt love heals, it is abt love helps. We might not see more of her trauma for reasons of space, or not related to the current plot lines, but I really hope we hear her talk abt herself with yuki even few lines. Although, I feel that the focus now will be on setting her for yuki’s next stage in character development: honesty in the love confession. He’ll tell her abt the curse as the trailer hinted at. That’s their first love life struggle. But if I were to take a guess, it will be dealt with quickly like her trauma. She loves yuki dearly & as long as he walks with her in snow (human or rat, lol), it’s all good. <3

Hior’s mom is love.

Kagura’s new style is love! she isn’t dressed overly cutely anymore, but had a more comfortably style & I love her hair! also her friendship with Isuzu! <3. I wish Isuzu would really know there are ppl worried abt her in her life. Haru isn’t the only one.

Akito put Isuzu in the cat room, didn’t she? The place she left is similar to the place young Kazum wandered to in se01, ep25. & those scissors....

I never thought that the mere sight of shigure’s face will disgust me. XD. I still find him so intriguing, but yeah need time to get over the fact that he slept with Ren & counted it even with Akito, then slept with Akito afterwards! EWWW! so disgusting & I’m here to see this drama escalate!

Yuki / Machi moment was interrupted! XD It’s not fun when it happened to you, yuki? XD.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #sick paper #final season

35 notes · View notes

kerwritesthings · 4 years ago

Text

Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass

Summary: Salty is followed by sour, which should always be followed by sweet.

Word Count: almost 3.7k

Warning: little cursing, little sexual tension, a bunch of sweet and fluff

Author Notes: ::taps on mic:: Soooo it’s been a GOOD while. The muse has been a little bit of a fickle bitch. Or a lot of one, actually. Also didn’t help that the last piece I wrote totally went a hard boom splat - gee thanks tall idiot Canadian one for that :P

HOWEVER, the muse decided to let go with some of the hockey boys and me play with some words for J’s Winter Writing Challenge. I’m just one day off deadline, though I still want to fill the other 1-2 I was thinking of. Thank you J for pulling this all together, you’re a peach.

This one, is the first attempt at writing Tyler, so please be kind to a girl. It was fun to play in this little part of my hockeysphere/hockeyblr.

I’m also maybe possibly most likely making this into a verse/series. Cause y’all should know that’s how I roll.

The prompt from the challenge was: “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“From the cute one in the three piece purple suit at the end of the bar, said to get you another of whatever you’re drinking,” Misty says, sliding the half-sugar rimmed martini glass across the copper bar top. “Wouldn’t even entertain doing this if I didn’t know most of them.”

“Thanks Mis,” you smile, pushing your empty glass towards her.

You peek down slyly towards the right. A gaggle of tall, well dressed men circle the far end. You think some look familiar. Then you see who Misty meant when he turns towards the front of the bar and towards where you’re sitting. You know straightaway who he is, know the reputation, the rumblings. It’s hard not to, as big as Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex is, it’s not at the same time. It also helps that you’ve been a hockey fan since birth, paying attention to the boys in green since you moved to Dallas a handful of years ago.

“Misty are you fucking kidding me?” you snap when she wanders back towards you.

“Nope,” she grins like the cat who got the canary. “You should go over and say thank you. Promise you, you may think you know, but he’s a good guy. The lot of them are.”

You shake your head no, downing half your drink in one sip before wiping your finger against the glass to lick at some of the sanding sugar. Misty’s blood orange martinis are your favorite, and a weakness you cannot kick when she’s got the good stuff in stock.

“Give me a blank tabcard and a pen,” you ask. “How many of them are down there? Do a round of shots on my bill, but lemme think of what to send while I write this.”

Misty places one of her pens, a card and your Visa to the right of your cocktail. You carefully fold the card in half, tearing it in two. On one half you cleanly script out your name and cell number while on the second half, you write a cheeky little note:

If you can figure out what the shot is, Misty has something for you. Thanks for the martini, the second always hits better especially when you lick the sugar rim.

“Mis, do you know how to make a reckless slut?” you snicker, capping the pen.

“Red-headed slut, but with whiskey instead of Jaeger yeah?” she questions, looking underneath the bar for a bigger, clean cocktail shaker.

“Honey whiskey if you’ve got it,” you respond, polishing off the rest of your martini before gathering your things. “Then it’s just a touch lighter on the peach. If he can guess it right, then you give him the second half of the note.”

“You got it, I’ll see you,” she waves, off to the middle of the bar to find more ingredients.

You carefully glance down towards the opposite end, noticing the boys all wrapped up so you carefully slip out to make your exit, smiling and shaking your head.

“I’m absolutely insane,” you say out loud to yourself as you head towards your car.

“Segs, my girl left this for you and a round on her for the rest of the motley crew,” Misty explains, slipping him the first card before handing out the shot glasses.

“What she say?” Jamie nudges.

“Other than I missed her licking the rim of her glass?” he chides. “I need to guess what this is and then Misty has something for me, supposedly.”

“I do,” Misty replies, handing the rest of the shots out. “She picked a bit of a good one to leave for you too. Cheers boys, bellow if you need anything.”

He lifts the glass, sniffing it at first, not having any clue.

“J, Rads you guys have any idea?” Tyler asks, they both shake their head.

“Bottoms up,” Jamie adds before they all tip the shots back.

“Anybody?” Tyler pushes again, glasses clicking on the copper.

“I know,” a voice chimes in from the back, dropping the empty shot glass onto the bar.

“Come on then Dicky,” Tyler urges.

He looks at Tyler, trying to hold back a laugh but it doesn’t work.

“It’s a reckless slut,” he manages out between his laughter. “It’s something else dark in place of Jägermeister. Slightly fitting, eh?”

The group busts out in hoops, hollers and their own peals of laughter while Tyler shoves at the one closest to him, this time it’s Alex.

“Whiskey, honey whiskey actually, so nice one there Jason. Winner gets this,” Misty trills happily, wiggling a card in front of the group.

“Hey, wait a second,” Tyler snaps, trying to lean over to snatch the card from the bartender.

“That’s the rules she set,” she says, flicking the card over to his teammate. “Take it up with him, he got it right.”

“What’s it worth?” Jason grins, fist bumping with Misty before turning more towards Tyler.

“Not whatever you’re scheming in that brain of yours,” he takes a pull off his beer.

“I was just gonna say take care of dinner tonight, but if it’s not worth that,” Jason trails off.

“Damnit Dicky,” he sighs, hand flexing around the bottle.

“Let’s go boys, they’re ready for us,” Joe interjects from the outskirts of the group, nodding to the back dining room. “And we like it here so no bloodshed, ok?”

You’re just about to slip the key into your front door lock when your phone buzzes in quick repeated blips. You juggle everything in, snag a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping down on the couch to see what has your phone trilling.

So, Tyler didn’t win the challenge, I did and Misty followed the rules passing it to the winner! Hi, I’m Jason.

::selfie of Jason with the boys scattered about behind him at the bar::

I’m refusing for a bit to give him your number. Want to spare and maybe prepare you before I do. Plus, it’s fun to watch him squirm for a bit when it comes to shit like this.

The reckless slut shot was a nice touch, so I’m hopeful in assuming when you spotted us, him really, you kind of knew who was all down at that end of the bar. Probably have heard some things about his adventures and antics, cause who hasn’t.

I can tell you most of it is blown out of proportion, don’t get me wrong he has his fun, but he’s not an asshole.

Maybe we can all do lunch after practice? I’m happy to play buffer if you don’t want to deal with him solo. We’ll go somewhere solid and make him pick it up :)

You cannot help but smile when flipping through the messages, making sure to save both Jason’s number and ridiculous selfie to your contacts list. You fire off a quick thanks text to Misty before you settle in to figure out the best reply to Jason.

You’re a good teammate and a better friend. I would also make him squirm for a bit too, little shit deserves a bit of discomfort.

I appreciate that, Jason – thank you. I know better than to judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard when the Cliffs Notes versions are face up all over the place. Plus, a lady can never be too careful.

Want to try lunch next week, the three of us? I can’t remember what your upcoming game sitch is like, sorry. Maybe PS214? Something good that’s not too fussy, but chill. Plus, they should have enough options for whatever your nutritionist wants you boys to try to stick to or options to totally cheat out on.

I’ve got some flex in my schedule for lunches, my later afternoons get to be what’s stickier.

You know they were having a team dinner, so you don’t expect a response right away, so you pull yourself together to wash up and get to bed. You wake up to a flurry of more texts the next morning, plans for lunch Monday their practice and a video clip of the two of them, which was utterly ridiculous and adorable at the same time. It eased your tensions just a touch, but lunch would be the kicker.

“There’s my favorite foodie,” Phil the manager says, hugging you immediately. “I was so happy to see your name on the reservations. Is this a work thing or a pleasure thing?”

“Little of both, I’ve got two possibly three of Dallas’ favorite hockey team joining me which is why I asked about the back-corner alcove,” you explain. “But I also want to taste some of the new things you’ve been floating both at the bar and on the menu. Nothing formal yet, but I’m thinking of trying to pull together something around new happy hour approaches.”

“I think one of your lunch companions just walked in,” Phil responds, as you catch someone walking towards the two of you from the corner of your eye. “I know him and his wife, they’ve been in a few times. Hey Jason, nice to see you.”

“Hey Phil, wasn’t sure if you’d be here, good to see you. You’ve met one half of my lunch date already?” he shakes Phil’s hand before reaching for yours.

“She and I run in the same circles, mutual friends, some projects that have crossed paths,” Phil adds. “We’re waiting on one more, yes?”

His phone trills, “It’s Segs, he’s parking now and apologized for being late. He had to let the pups out because his dog sitter couldn’t get there early today.”

“I was early, force of habit, so no worries,” you reply. “He’s going to be pretty much on time in the grand scheme. Plus, I got some actual work done talking to Phil before you got here, so it’s all good.”

“Jason, you best not be trying to steal her from me already,” Tyler claps his shoulder before setting his eyes on you. “You’ve got someone waiting for you at home.”

You can’t help but half roll your eyes and half chuckle, “Nice to officially meet you, Tyler.”

He reaches out, his hand easily dwarfs yours, “You too, Clementine.”

“If you are all ready, we’ve got the table you asked for set,” Phil nods to the right, into the dining room.

“You were mentioning your work when I came in?” Tyler questions as you all sit down.

“I guess you could say I’m a lifestyle writer, mostly food and drink but I’ve dabbled in some travel,” you say. “I started out with my own blog back when I was in college trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and it kind of got a following from there. I refuse to say influencer, cause no I’m not. Not my schtick. Actual writing pays the bills, not sponsored Instagram or blog posts. I refused to let my baby No Fork become something tainted like that, I think why it became so successful.”

“Wait, wait. You’re A Girl With No Fork? Seriously, my wife is obsessed with your insta page and the blog,” Jason exclaims. “She’s going to lose her ish that I’m having lunch with you.”

“Still blogging but keeping that a little more separate now a days. There’s more bylines with Infatuation, Food and Wine, a good deal with some the local papers. I may have a piece end up with Bon Appetite if this pitch I’m working on comes to fruition,” you explain, taking a sip of what Phil just placed in front of you. “Trying to keep a little of that anonymity left to keep Fork as respected as it is. Your wife and I need to brunch at some point then.”

Phil comes by to ask about any allergies or dietary restrictions, the rest is up to him and the chef, and you know you’re all in good hands.

“So, a pretty girl with a unique name,” Tyler leads. “Feels like there’s probably a good story there.”

“I was a surprisingly early baby, literally my Mom went into labor at 35 weeks and in an orange grove. That was her craving when she was pregnant with me, a ton of citrus. Hence the name,” you smile. “It’s rare I hear anyone other than her use my full name anymore. Even my pen name for my byline on pieces uses my initials. Friends mostly call me C or Em.”

“No Emmy?” Tyler questions.

You shake your head, cheeks flushing. You’ve never allowed that by anyone; not that anyone has ever tried that out for size. It always felt to too special to you, wanting to hold on to that for the right person.

“Let me see these puppies that made you late,” you divert.

“Once you get him started on the three stooges, you cannot go back,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you smile, making grabby hands for his phone. “Come on I know you’ve got a ton of photos and videos on there.”

“They’re definitely a handful, and not so much puppies anymore. Though Gerry would fight me on that, he’s the baby,” Tyler grins wide before pulling up a video of three dogs running around like crazy in what looks to be his backyard pool.

Lunch was more of the same, good food, good conversation and a bunch of joking around. Smart play by Jason to recommend it this way, he’s as much of a sweetheart as his texts made him out to be and helps ease some of the worries you had about Tyler. And Tyler, you found yourself gravitating to him a lot more than you thought you would. You all didn’t realize it until the shift change was happening how long you actually spent in the back booth. As you’re saying goodbye, hugs are passed around between the group of you this time.

“We’re keeping you around by the way,” Tyler whispers in your ear. “Welcome to the crew.”

You fall into a quirky but easy friendship with Tyler and Jason after that, eventually Jamie too once the boys drag him to one of your tasting outings. It evolves quickly from random texting to grabbing meals and drinks, hanging out after games, even meeting Tyler at the dog park to finally meet his trio of crazy pups during one of your crazy timed breaks in your schedule that matched up before he needed to get into his pre-game routine.

Gerry is running amok hopping around with a German Sheppard while Cash just wants Tyler to throw a stick for him to fetch repeatedly. Marshall, however, has taken residence with his head in your lap.

“I know your younger brothers are insane,” you coo, rubbing the chocolate lab’s ear as he nuzzles into your thigh. “I’m sorry I have to leave you with them in a few.”

“So soon?” Tyler asks, tossing Cash’s favorite stick a little father. “You like just got here. He also just doesn’t cuddle like that with anyone. Feel special, so you shouldn’t leave him either.”

“Only a quick break today. Deadlines looming and a bourbon tasting that need to get done if I’m meeting you guys later after the game,” you explain, fingers digging into Marshall’s fur again.

“At some point you do need to come to a game,” he sasses as Cash comes barreling into his legs, Gerry not far behind. “I know you’re a hockey fan, you can’t hide that Em.”

“Perhaps maybe,” you tease, rolling your eyes sticking your tongue out at him. “Ok Marsh, I’m sorry buddy but I gotta go.”

Marshall just slides his head further into your lap, while now Cash head butts your free hand as Gerry crashes into your legs.

“I’m so sorry boys, we’ll have another playdate soon I promise,” you call to them as you pet all their heads.

“Where’s my goodbye pets and love?” he cheekily leans his head towards you.

“Oh Ty,” rolling your eyes as you get up.

You lean in as you were going to kiss his cheek, but you just tweak his nose and flip his snapback off, “See you tonight superstar.”

Misty is thankfully behind the bar again tonight at Oak and Cork, except this time you’re in the middle of the crazy group instead of the far end of the bar.

“You hitting that yet?” Alex grins wiggling his eyebrows and nodding to where you’re leaning against the bar talking to Misty while she makes your drink.

Tyler shoves his teammate, “Dude.”

“First off, don’t be crass. Em is in the damn room. And that’s a no by the way,” Jason rolls his eyes at Alex after handing off glasses to the two of them. “He most definitely wants to; I think that she does too. They just won’t actually talk about it.”

“She sent you reckless slut shots, I think you can talk to her about fucking,” Alex replies, taking a pull from his drink.

“Emmy. She’s not just some random girl to dick and dump, Rads. Fucks sake,” he sighs, hand threading through his hair as he looks over in your direction where you’re talking with Jamie, Joe and his wife.

“Emmy, eh? That speaks volumes. Just ask her already,” Jason interjects. “We’re all tired of your crank ass. I’m going to find my better half.”

“He’s right,” Alex taps his glass against Tyler’s. “Go to her. Ask her. Kiss her. Less cranky, more goals, more fucking.”

Tyler shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He snags a bottle of beer from one of the buckets left out on the bar for the group before he looks for somewhere to take a breather. You catch him stalking off to the patio, amber glass clenched in his hand with his brows knitted together.

“He ok?” you ask Jamie, pointing towards the door where Tyler’s walking through.

“That’s not a good Tyler face,” he sighs. “I should…”

“No, stay. I’ll go check,” you interrupt, polishing off your martini to head outside.

“Hard to have congratulatory drinks when the first star of the game is hiding out on the patio,” you call out.

He shrugs, not turning around at first but you can see the tension across his shoulders even through his dress shirt. You take a couple steps out towards him.

“Hey, come on. Can’t be that bad. Right? Nothing’s wrong with the pups? Your family?” you tread carefully not knowing what could have happened between the dog park and that moment.

He turns around slowly, not looking up at first.

“Tyler, what’s going on?” your concern lacing through your voice clearly.

“I still think about that night here, you know?” he starts, placing his bottle on the railing next to him before leaning back against it. “I was intrigued, girl at a bar alone on a Friday night. Gorgeous one at that. She kind of saw right through me but dished it back unexpectedly and pretty well. Then, then that damn chaperoned lunch. Kind of just rolled from there.”

“Ty, what are you saying?” you need to make sure where he’s going with this.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, it’s exhilarating and unnerving,” he fights out, coming off the railing. “I still think about kissing you, wanting that, all the damn time.”

“Tyler,” you begin, trying to move closer.

“Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Tyler fights out, hands flexing at his side but looking you straight in the eye.

You can see the clench of his jaw clearly from there, the fire he’s holding back in his eyes. Your breath catches, your heart skips and your stomach flips.

“What if I’m ok with that?” you whisper, slipping an inch closer.

“I need you to be sure, Clementine,” he looks at you carefully, pupils flicking wider.

“Clementine? Really Tyler?” you try to tease to lighten the thick air around the two of you.

“Emmy,” he exhales deeply. “Don’t. Please, not tonight. Not now.”

You nod once he opens his eyes, stepping closer.

“Use your words, Emmy,” he murmurs, one hand grasping your hip while the other comes to cup your cheek, thumb trailing across your skin. “I need to hear you say it, babygirl.”

You’re distracted for a moment, having him that close. His words swirl around your head, your senses are slightly overwhelmed by him. His cologne lingers in your nose and makes your eyes flutter.

“You don’t need to placate me though, I’m a big boy,” he says softly. “Friends is better than nothing.”

“I wouldn’t,” you jump in carefully. “It’s why I waited, why I’m saying yes now to you Ty.”

Tyler pulls you forward and claims your mouth. His tongue wicked, swiping at yours. Your hands slip up behind his neck with fingers tangling in his hair at the nape. You lose sense of time, all you can do is sink further into the kiss, and into him, until you’re out of breath.

“You taste like those damn orange martinis you love. I like it,” he sighs, knuckle trailing against your cheek. “I’ve never felt possessive, but fuck. The thought of anyone else sipping your sugar after that makes me see red, Emmy.”

“Is that the ass backwards Tyler way of asking me out?” you tease, popping up on your toes to nip at his bottom lip.

He surges forward and knocks the breath out of you with another bruising kiss.

“Come to my game tomorrow, wear my jersey. Let me show you off properly, let me take you home after, breakfast with the dogs on the patio in the morning,” he asks, this time his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “And the game after that and the next one after that, the next weeks and months ahead. Let me show you that I’m not that reckless slut you may think I am. You make me not want to be.”

You smile, nodding and pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin writing #tyler seguin fluff #nhl fic #nhl fluff #hockey fic #hockey imagine #juliaswinterwriting

79 notes · View notes

gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 5 years ago

Link

Rating: T

Chapter Summary: A month after Chat Noir learns Marinette's identity, they're just vibin'

Word Count: 4388 | Chapter 2/2

Notes: Written for @chatnoirinette through the @mlbforblm charity drive! The donations go directly to Color of Change, an organization for racial justice. I highly recommend checking them out and reblogging/donating the mlbforblm posts if you’re able! I have two fic request slots left as of 7/17/2020, and many other talented writers and artists are offering incentives as well

XXX

Marinette glanced over her shoulder for what had to have been the thirtieth time. Outside her bedroom window, stormclouds were gathering over the glittering skyline. What if the weather was too dangerous for Chat to come visit tonight? Or what if he’d gotten held up with something in his civilian life? That happened too often, though he probably spent every moment he could with her now. It was oddly comforting that he wanted to be around her so much, even if it was just keeping her company while she worked on homework, or deciphered the grimoire, or let the kwamis out for some fresh air.

Despite seeing him practically every day, she still managed to miss him.

“He’ll be here,” Tikki said from her perch on top of Marinette’s mannequin.

She sighed. “That obvious, huh?”

“You almost pinned the collar to my leg.”

Oops. As it was, the she’d bunched up the collar of Juleka’s dress all wrong. She’d have to remove the pins and smooth it out again unless she wanted the fabric to pucker in her sewing machine.

“Sorry Tikki. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

She’d survived with only seeing her partner during akuma attacks and patrols for two years now. But in these few weeks since she’d accidentally revealed her identity, she’d come to rely on him more than ever. Maybe too much, honestly. She had no idea what civilian responsibilities he was carrying on his own.

Well, she had a guess, but that was better left unsaid until she knew for sure.

You could always ask him, she thought for the thousandth time, but banished it just as quickly.

A tap at her window made her jump and prick her finger. Even startled as she was, guilty relief flooded her. Tikki was right; he’d shown up anyway.

She sucked on the sore spot as she ran to open the window. “You know Papa would let you in the front door.”

“But then I’d miss getting to see you in your natural habitat, Bugaboo.” Chat Noir grinned as he swung himself in. Luckily it hadn’t started raining yet. She didn’t want her room smelling like wet cat.

“My ‘natural habitat’ has too many pins on the floor.” She scrambled to pick them up before he ended up stepping on one. His boots would have protected his feet, but he was polite enough to remove them every time he entered, even though she’d never asked him to.

At least, she’d never asked Chat. That was one of her flimsier evidences for his identity, though.

“I like it. It’s cozy.” He plopped down on her chaise, which he’d claimed for himself weeks ago. Not that she minded. She kept that space clear for him, even when fabric and thread was piled on every other surface.

“What about your room? Is it this ‘cozy’?” She asked. It was an innocent question, not overtly fishing for information on his identity.

“Nah. I’m not allowed to… I have to keep things tidy.” He frowned.

Another piece towards her theory. She’d add that note in the conspiracy page she’d webbed out in her diary.

“Oh! I’ve got something for you!” He untied a plastic bag that he’d hung from his belt. “It, um, might be a little bit squished, but hopefully it’ll still taste good.”

Her eyes widened at the small box of cupcakes he presented to her. The frosting was pale pink, with wobbly dots of chocolate arranged to look like the spots on her yo-yo. They were a little smushed, but still in remarkably good shape for having traveled with Chat across Paris. She popped off the box’s translucent lid, giggling at the tiny pigeon stickers at each corner of it.

He winced. “They look terrible, don’t they? I know I’m not as good at baking as you, but Mr. Ramier helped so I thought they might be kind of okay—”

“They’re perfect.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “You didn’t have to make me anything, Kitty.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Since you’re always sharing your delicious pastries with me—”

“Maman and Papa make most of those.”

“—and because you deserve something nice, and you refuse to let me buy you anything.”

Her face warmed. Before she’d put that rule into place, he’d tried to bring her a present every time he visited. Considering he visited a lot, that would have taken a toll on his wallet.

Unless money wasn’t an issue for him, of course.

Stop that, she told herself. She could hardly deny her feelings for Chat anymore, but she couldn’t keep muddling them with feelings for her first crush. Not until she knew for sure they were one and the same.

Now if only she could stop being a coward and ask him.

“W-well thanks,” she said quickly. “You better help me eat them.”

He winked. “Can do, Princess.”

Before they dug in, she bundled her fabric away and pulled out the Miracle Box from its hiding place next to her sewing machine. It was the perfect spot, now that she’d learned how disguise it as an extra sewing box rather than that Ladybug-themed egg-thing. She’d never have been able to keep that a secret.

“Who’s coming out today?” Chat asked. He’d sprawled on the chaise with his hands propping up his chin. Tikki had nestled herself in his hair, eating half of a cupcake and scattering crumbs in his golden locks.

The kwami would probably enjoy Chat Noir’s visits more if Plagg was allowed out for her to play with. Plagg would devour all of her parents’ cheese-filled pastries, and Marinette… Marinette would have to look into her partner’s unmasked eyes and admit she was still half in love with someone else.

Unless she wasn’t. But what if she was? A few hardly-lucid dreams and wishful evidence weren’t proof that Chat Noir was actually Adrien.

She shook her head. That train of thought could do donuts in her brain if she didn’t pull the brakes.

“I was thinking Kaalki and Pollen.” She wasn’t up for any of the rowdier kwamis tonight, even with Chat helping her “babysit.” Plus the two of them liked sweets; they’d appreciate the cupcakes.

She pulled out the hair comb and glasses, and Chat Noir excitedly put them both on. The miraculouses somehow managed to make him look both dorkier and cuter at the same time. Maybe that was just because he was at his cutest when he was being a dork.

Tikki smiled wide as Kaalki and Pollen appeared in flashes of light.

“Oooh, someone glorious and famous.” Kaalki flew in circles around Chat Noir’s head, nudging a few of his tufts of hair with her hoof. “You would make a fine holder. Plagg wouldn’t be up for a trade, would he?”

Chat blushed beneath his mask, making Marinette giggle.

“Uh, sorry, but I’m going to have to say neigh to that.”

Pollen covered her laugh in her hands. Kaalki just harumphed.

“Fine. Your sense of humor is far too unpolished anyway.”

Glorious and famous. Kaalki might have been talking about his status as a hero of Paris, but Marinette still made note.

They fell into their usual routine, Chat Noir entertaining the kwamis by answering their questions about the world while Marinette went back to work. The steady conversation was a better backdrop than any white noise or instrumental music playlists. She only wished she had time to join them. Unfortunately, she’d put off this dress for too long. She only had a week before Juleka wa supposed to model the floral sundress at the school’s ameteur fashion show, and who knew how many akumas would strike between now and then?

Marinette was just getting ready to transfer the fabric from the mannequin to her sewing desk when she heard Pollen ask Chat, “How are things between you and your Princess?”

The pins slipped from her hand. She barely noticed a couple pricking into her slipper.

Chat had sat up straight since the last time she’d glanced back, and the nervous yet hopeful smile on his face threatened to melt her.

“Uh—well—how are things between us, Marinette?”

Her mouth briefly forgot how to make words. She knew what Pollen meant; Tikki and her gossiped about Marinette’s love life all the time. Maybe she shouldn’t have let the bee kwami out tonight.

“Well, um.” Her fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of her pajama pants. Say something, Marinette! “We’re—we’re best friends, right?”

She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth. How many times had she died inside over Adrien calling her just a friend? And no matter who Chat was beneath the mask, she didn't want to obscure her true feelings for him.

But his face still lit up even brighter. “I’m your best friend?”

“Of course, Kitty.” She sat on the chaise, scooting close to him. Probably closer than even a best friend should, but it wasn’t like Chat was shy about personal space. “I don’t let just anyone climb in my window, you know.”

“Awwww,” Pollen sighed while crossing her hands over her heart. Tikki gave Marinette a knowing look, which she pretended to ignore.

Then Marinette shoved a cupcake into her mouth before she could say anything more incriminating.

Chat blinked. She wondered if he was impressed—that cupcake had been about the size of her fist. Guess she could’ve fit her fist in her mouth after all, but at least the cupcake tasted better.

“Thesh ah really goo’.”

...Well, she said she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. She’d never ruled out saying anything stupid.

Chat Noir laughed. “For a Princess, your table manners could use some work.”

She swallowed about half the cupcake. It was really good, thick and chocolatey with a hint of strawberry. It probably would’ve tasted better if she’d taken the time to savor it. But the loss was worth it for the look on his face.

“No table manners allowed. Only vibes.”

He blinked before bursting out a real laugh, fuller and brighter than the one before. One that she was sounded strikingly familiar—especially with the backdrop of rain hitting the window behind them.

That truth cracked like a flash of lightning.

“You’ve been hanging out with Nino too much.” He wiped a claw under his eye, flicking away a few drops of water.

It was him. It had to be him. She’d recognize that laugh anywhere.

“Princess, what’s a ‘vibe’?” Pollen asked.

“I believe it’s like a, like a feeling,” Kaalki answered over the sound of Chat’s cackle. “Perhaps there’s a kwami of vibes? Or would that fall under Duusu’s domain?”

Marinette was too stunned from the whiplash of Adrien’s laugh and Pollen’s question to actually answer.

“Sort of,” Tikki interjected instead. “Marinette and her friends sometimes talk about vibes like they’re feelings, but they also use ‘vibing’ as an action. I’m still not really sure what that means though. Maybe we should Google it?”

When she sat on Marinette’s computer keyboard, the desktop collage of Adrien’s photos flashed on the screen. Marinette almost lunged for her kwami in horror, but Chat was still laughing too hard to notice.

“Princess—what’s a—what’s a vibe?” He got out between tears.

Then he actually doubled over far enough that he toppled off the chaise—which made Marinette laugh so hard she choked on her remaining cupcake.

Adrien was dressed in a catsuit, literally rolling on the floor laughing. That was more hilarious than even the kwamis trying to understand teenage slang.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” Tikki hovered up to her face, her blue eyes filling Marinette’s vision.

She giggled again, coughing out crumbs stuck in the back of her throat.

“I’m—I’m straight up vibing!”

With that, she too rolled off the chaise and fell on top of Chat. He yelped before giggling again, wrapping his arms around her.

“Spare vibes, Princess? Spare vibes for a poor vibeless kitty?”

“Ack!” She flailed as he tickled her sides. “Nooo, stop! You’re stealing all the vibes!”

“Were vibes in the cupcakes?” Pollen whispered to Kaalki, prompting another giggling fit from both Marinette and Chat Noir.

“Maybe it’s a secret,” Kaalki replied. “Like a code. For when the two of them want to do… whatever this is.” She waved a hoof towards where they were tangled together.

It was only then that Marinette realized what this would look like. And the fact that the floor wasn’t that thick, and her parents might hear something any minute.

Not to mention the fact that Adrien was tickling her.

“I, um, need some air!” She burst, scrambling off from his chest.

“Huh? Wait, Marinette!”

He reached out a hand, but she’d already bolted up her ladder and shoved open her skylight.

Which, of course, let rain dump right into her bed. Oops.

“What was in those cupcakes?” She mumbled, climbing onto her balcony shutting the skylight behind her.

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat there. The rain wasn’t doing a quick enough job of it, even though the spring shower chilled the rest of her to the bone. Had she flushed her last brain cell down the toilet? What was she thinking?

Of course, she was stupid with Chat Noir all the time. They’d challenged each other to handstand contests, dared each other to eat spicy peppers, even one-upped each other’s Hawkmoth impersonations. Chat might be Adrien, but that meant Adrien was still Chat. Knowing his identity didn’t change the fact that he was her ridiculous partner.

“Marinette?” A blond head poked out of the skylight. The glasses were askew on his nose; the golden hair comb had almost fallen out. “If you want me to leave, I can. You don’t need to stay out here and get soaked.”

It was a bit late for that. Even though she had ducked under the awning, the rain was blowing practically sideways. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Why had she worn her pajama tank? Not that it mattered; Adrien had seen her in it before. She could hardly embarrass herself more than she already had.

“N-no, of course not! I just thought, we were being kind of loud, and it’s late, and since you didn’t come in through the front door…”

Chat winced as he climbed out onto the balcony to stand beside her. Just a few seconds out in the rain, and his hair was already plastered to his forehead in a wet mop. The glasses were too splattered to see through; he removed them and the bee miraculous with his free hand and put them in his pocket.

As for his other hand...

“Well, at least use this. It might work a little better than your awning.”

...He popped open the umbrella. Black and slick with rain, it brought her back to a moment two years ago. Different green eyes, but the same soft gaze.

“Of course you’d grab that one.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was the only umbrella she owned, and it had been sitting by her desk, but it still felt ironic.

She reached for the umbrella, but Chat pulled it back at the last moment.

“Wait, it’s broken, isn’t it?” He squinted up at its underside—

Just in time for it to snap shut on his head.

A laugh burst from her like a crack of thunder. “Come on, Ad—Kitty. It’s drier over here.”

He disentangled himself from the umbrella and followed her to the corner of the balcony, where the rain hadn’t quite snuck under the awning.

“Why do you have this old thing anyway? Looks like a piece of junk.” He twirled the now-closed umbrella like his baton, but fumbled it under her folding chair, where it promptly exploded open. Chat scowled. “Oh, I see how it is. When I want you to open, you only know how to stay shut. But when you’re out on your own you’re ready to party.”

The umbrella rolled slightly as it began to fill with rainwater. Marinette laughed as Chat continued to glare at it.

“Be nice to that umbrella. Someone very special gave it to me.” She stretched out her legs, letting her heels dangle in the puddles in the brick. Her fairy lights reflected in the water, casting the two of them in an ethereal glow.

“Oh, really? Should I be jealous?” He playfully wrapped an arm around her back. Every place he touched burned, even though she knew the gesture was just part of his jealous act.

She hummed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“...Oh.” She felt him deflate, though he infused his voice with fake confidence. “Well, good. I’m a pretty territorial cat, you know.”

Gently, she tugged on the bell at his neck until he met her eyes.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” she clarified, “because I know he’s you.”

Chat Noir’s—Adrien’s—eyes widened. But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head with a smile.

“I should’ve known you’d figure me out. You’ve already done it once in your sleep.”

She blinked. “I did? And—and I’m right?”

She’d been sure, but it was still another thing to hear him admit it.

And it was yet another thing to hear “claws in.” To see green lightning crackle over over him, unmasking Adrien’s tender face.

The electricity had barely faded before she flung her arms around him.

“Woah!” He laughed before hugging her back just as tightly. “You know, I think I should be jealous. You never hugged Chat Noir like this.”

“That’s not true. I definitely hugged you tighter after we fought the Scrambler last week.”

“Huh. I guess it just doesn’t have the same effect when I’m covered in egg whites. Or maybe it’s because the suit isn’t in the way now.”

She was all too aware of that. His bare hands were warm on her back, even through her pajama shirt. Her face was tucked in the crook of his neck, where she could drink in his scent unobscured by the leather suit.

“Sniffing me again?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She flushed at being caught. Adrien her friend from school might not have called her out for it, but Adrien her partner of two years would. Well, two could play at that game.

“Oh, like you haven’t sniffed me before. Besides, I can’t help it that you smell radiant, carefree, and dreamy.”

He looked mortified. “That commercial was over a year ago! Even Wayhem forgot about that!”

“Wayhem probably didn’t watch it two hundred and fifty-five times.”

“...I can’t tell which one of us should be more embarrassed about that.”

“Probably me,” she admitted. “What was your point again?”

“Either we both get sniffing rights, or neither of us does. That’s fair.”

She laughed, nuzzling deeper into his neck. “Fine. But I probably just smell wet.”

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in, tickling the part of her hair. “Don’t worry. You smell perfect.”

Maybe it should’ve been an awkward compliment, but he still found herself giddy over it.

“Thank you. You smell like cheese.”

“Hey!” He pouted. “What happened to ‘radiant, carefree, and dreamy’?”

“She gave you a compliment, kid. What’s more radiant than cheese?” Plagg asked.

Marinette nearly screamed. She should’ve realized he was there, but he’d blended into the shadows in the wake of Adrien’s detransformation.

“Plagg!” Adrien hissed. “Go inside with Tikki. We’re having a moment.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Plagg dismissively waved a paw. “You got any cheese in there for me, Pigtails?”

“Uh—Tikki can get you some cheese-filled pastries from downstairs. Don’t let my parents see you.”

“They’ll never know I was there. Unless they notice a plate of those delicious treats is gone.” The kwami grinned and dove through the floor.

Well, that was about all she could expect. Hopefully Tikki could keep him under control. If not, Marinette might have to fake a rat infestation.

“Sorry about him.” Adrien sighed. “He’s always like that.”

“Could’ve been worse. Imagine if you were stuck with Xuppu or Roarr as your kwami.”

He laughed. “Pretty sure my father would have grounded me for life if he saw the mess. Or he would’ve found out my identity. Probably both.”

Chat had been there the one day Marinette decided to let the monkey and tiger kwamis outside of the miracle box. She’d actually had to transform and use her Lucky Charm just to undo the damage.

“Speaking of which… I knew it was only a matter of time, but how did you learn my identity?” He asked. “If I need to be more careful…”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. I… I don’t know if I can even explain it. At first I thought it was just wishful thinking. Ever since we spent the night at Mr. Ramier’s apartment, I…”

She blushed and bit her lip. Getting caught sniffing him might have been embarrassing, but admitting this somehow felt more personal.

“What?” He asked. “Is it because I smelled the same as Chat and myself?”

“Huh? No—well, sort of? Maybe subconsciously.”

“Oh. That’s what you said while you were sleeptalking.” He shrugged.

“I guess that makes sense, since… well, I’ve been dreaming about you. Both of you.”

She took a deep breath. He was still waiting patiently, his hand softly stroking her back. If he didn’t think she was crazy yet, she guessed this wouldn’t change his mind.

“You were always the same person in my dreams. You’d switch back and forth between Adrien and Chat Noir. “Chat” would sit in front of me at school, or “Adrien” would help me bring down a scary akuma. Either way, it was always you.

“And then I couldn’t help looking for similarities when I was awake. I—I started writing down all the evidence I found. The time “Chat” almost beat me at Ultimate Mecha Strike was when I started to actually believe it. But what finally convinced for sure me was your laugh.”

She laced her fingers together in her lap to keep from fidgeting. All of it sounded weirder when she said it out loud. Almost like she’d been stalking him, sticking all of their casual interactions under a microscope.

“Wow,” he breathed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m flattered that you went through all that effort, but I don’t get it. The only reason I didn’t reveal myself sooner was because I was afraid it would put more stress on you, and you were already dealing with so much. Why didn’t you just ask me who I was?”

She stared into his eyes, watching the pastel lights reflect in them. He still didn’t know. All these secrets shared, all these weights lifted, and she still hadn’t revealed the one secret she’d wanted to confess all along.

“Because…” she licked her lips, “because I didn’t want to be wrong. If you weren’t Adrien—I didn’t want to project my old crush onto you. You deserve better than that. Though I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I wasn’t projecting after all, it is you and so I should. Just be able to say this.”

He blinked at her, but then his lips began to part in a slow smile.

“Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m in love with you,” she blurted before she could lose her nerve again. “First Adrien you, then Chat Noir you, then just, well, you. So—so jot that down.”

A startled laugh escaped him before he squeezed her tight again.

“Consider it jotted.” He kissed the top of her head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she wasn’t going to dissolve at the faintest sign of lip-on-hair contact. “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with all of you too. So you can jot that down.”

It shouldn’t have undone her. Chat Noir had confessed his love to her countless times. Granted, all of those times had been before their battle with Miracle Queen, after which he’d obviously tried to move on.

But he still loved her. She wasn’t too late.

Maybe that relief was what pushed her to grab the collar of his shirt in both hands and press her mouth to his.

Her brain screamed, but her lips slowly figured out what to do, particularly when Adrien got over his shock and kissed her back.

Adrien. Holding her in his arms. Kissing her back.

She wasn’t sure if the sound she heard was the rain or the roaring in her ears or just her internal screaming. But it didn’t matter. For the first time, they were really, finally together, no secrets or fears between them. That truth was just as sweet as the kiss.

He finally pulled back, the front of his shirt damp where he’d been pressed against her. From the wide grin on his face, he didn’t mind.

“Will I get that kind of kiss every time I tell you I love you?”

“I don’t know.” She tapped her lips. “It might be worth finding out.”

“I love you, my La—”

She cut him off with her mouth on his.

All that time waiting, every failed attempt at confessing her feelings, slipped away like the rain off the slick balcony railing.

When the sky finally cleared, she woke to them tangled together, slumped against that same railing. She had a crick in her neck, and she’d probably end up with a cold from sleeping in her wet clothes. But it still felt worth it to look up into Adrien’s blissful face. Somehow she’d woken up before him—probably because her clothes had been more uncomfortable, since his were dry where his suit had covered them.

“Are you going to give me any juicy secrets in your sleep?” She asked before kissing the side of his jaw.

His only response was to hum and hug her.

“I guess that’s a no.” She chuckled. “No fair. I shouldn’t be the only one embarrassing myself in this relationship.”

Relationship. She could’ve exploded into confetti just thinking about it.

“Mmm… love you… m’lady.”

Her breath caught at his slurred voice.

“...Well I guess I can’t complain about that.”

She rested her head back on his chest, and let the dripping remnants of rain from the gutters lull her back to sleep.

#tali writes #miraculous ladybug #marichat #mlbforblm #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #reveal #fic tag

201 notes · View notes

fallen-gravity · 5 years ago

Text

Forever Together

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind Connie's choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes.

Five years after Steven Universe left Beach City, he comes to the peak of his journey of self-discovery when he realizes his life just wouldn't be the same without Connie in it.

AO3

Or under the cut:

Steven Universe is 22 years old.

Ever since he left Beach City at sixteen and a half, he’s felt peace he never knew was possible. It’s not like he hated living there, or that he never wanted to see anyone who still lived there ever again, oh no. It’s just that when he finally had time to really process what his dad had been trying to tell him, along with a few more listen-throughs of his dad’s Kerry Moonbeam CD, he came to the realization that yeah, maybe a change of scenery really would do him some wonders. It wasn’t running away from all his problems, like he’d originally thought when he was too angry to process what Greg had been trying to tell him, it was a journey of self-discovery.

And when he finally chalked it up to tell Greg he wanted to move on, he had been expecting shock, or wave upon wave of waterworks. And, okay, maybe there had been waterworks, and maybe most of it had been on his own side, but to his surprise, Greg was super supportive of his decisions and told him he was ready to help him start packing as soon as he was ready. It’s not that he wanted Steven to leave, or anything, he just wanted to be as supportive of his endeavors as possible, something he never received from his own parents.

“I had to crawl out my bedroom window, even with two suitcases that probably weighed about 25 pounds each!” he’d exclaimed, and even to this day Steven can’t tell if he had been joking or if he had been dead serious about it.

Either way, Steven was grateful. Grateful for the support not only from Greg, but from the Gems and all of the townsfolk of Beach City as well. If he hadn’t gotten their immense support, he’s not sure if he’d even gone through with it, and he never would’ve had the opportunity to discover so much about himself and the world around him. While he made ground-breaking progress discovering himself and his mental health through therapy and time alone with his friends and family, the time he had all to himself now that he was on the road finally gave him time to discover even the littlest of things about him, the things that made him human.

Like how he’d discovered, upon stumbling across a music store, that for someone who could masterfully play the ukulele and the piano when he was six, that he sucked at playing wind instruments.

Or that it isn’t just hometown bias, and Fish Stew Pizza really is the best in the state.

Or that he really, really missed eating fried eggs, and that one month where he’d only drank protein shakes for breakfast was the biggest mistake of his life.

Or even the fact that not only were some of the surrounding states still selling Cookie Cats, but some places were even selling flavors other than the classic vanilla-strawberry.

All these little things that really made him realize that maybe his dad had been speaking metaphorically when he’d mused about his first time trying a taco.

But despite all of these discoveries, and changes, and new experiences, there was always one consistency he could always count on when he was on the road. One consistency that made everything just that much more magical than any mission he’d ever been on with the gems. One consistency that reminded him that wherever he went in the world, wherever he’d end up, he’d always have-

Suddenly, his phone starts ringing. It’s just one five little note ringtone, but it’s enough for Steven to start grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t even need to take his eyes off the road for half a second to check the caller ID to know who it is. He adjusts his phone’s place on the car clip Pearl had gifted him on his birthday a few years prior, and slides the screen to the right to answer the call.

“Connie!” he grins again, despite the fact he knows that she can’t see him. “Just on time, I just pulled into town. You done with classes?”

“Just finished about twenty minutes ago,” she replies, and even without being able to see her he can tell she’s grinning too. “I wanted to get a head start at packing so you wouldn’t try to carry all of my stuff out in one go to try and impress me”

Steven blushes. “That was one time!”

She giggles. “That was winter break, Steven. It wasn’t that long ago. Plus, I only have half the stuff to take home with me, since spring break only lasts the week”.

“Awww, only a week?” he replies in mock-disappointment, a stand-in for his lack of ability to pout at her right now.

She snorts. “I’ll be home for the summer a month from now, Steven”

“I know”, he replies, pulling into a parking lot across from her on-campus apartment. “I just can’t stand to be apart from you” he whines exasperatedly, to which Connie replies with hysterical laughter. It makes his heart skip in his chest.

Connie.

Connie Maheswaran, the love of his life, has been without exaggeration, the best piece of consistency in his life he could ask for. Every time she wants to visit her parents at home in Beach City, or every time she wants to go on a short weekend trip of her own, or even just when she wants to grab breakfast somewhere other than her campus dining halls, she calls him and he picks her up without a question about it. Truth be told, she got her license about six months after he got his, but even five years into their relationship she’s told him that she loves any excuse she can to be around him. And he’d be lying to everyone in the galaxy if he tried denying for even a second that he felt the same way about her.

Five years ago, he had asked Ruby and Sapphire for relationship advice. Five years ago, they had both eagerly suggested proposing marriage, and five years ago he went through with it out of desperation for any sense of consistency and assurance he’d have at least one person in his life that wouldn’t leave him behind.

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind her choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes. Had it not been 2:45 in the morning when the thought came to him, he would’ve called her right then and there to talk about it.

There’s a sudden light knock on his car window, startling him out of his thoughts so suddenly that he yelps. He turns to see who it could be, and he’s met with Connie’s grinning face as she silently waves hello to him.

“Connie!” he grins, and scrambles to unclick his seatbelt as he opens his car door to greet her. They exchange a tight, squeezing hug, followed by a soft, sweet kiss.

“What kept you?” she asks, once they pull away from the kiss. “I thought you said you wanted to help me pack, but you never came upstairs after we hung up”

“Huh?” Steven blinks, but a quick glance behind her and he notices that she already has both of her bags with her. He blushes, rubbing at the back of his head. “Oh, sorry, I, uh…” he coughs awkwardly, the blush on his cheeks only worsening. “I was just...thinking”.

She gives him a soft smile, but doesn’t question further. She drags her bags to Steven’s Dondai, opens the back door, and tosses her bags inside before closing the door again. On her way over to the passenger’s side door, she stops, places a gentle hand on Steven’s chest, and kisses him on the cheek. “Full of mystery as always,” she teases, gently patting his chest where her hand lay. His blush worsens even more, and it must practically be written all over his face at this point, because Connie snickers again. “You haven’t changed a bit”.

“Heh, well, you know me, Steven Universe” Steven’s voice cracks as he goes to open Connie’s door for her, and she giggles once more before he finally settles into his own seat on the driver’s side. Once they’re both strapped in, and finally sure that yes, they’re done kissing, they swear, Steven settles his back against his seat and sighs comfortably.

He taps rhythmically against the steering wheel. “So…” he says, turning his gaze towards Connie once again. “What are you thinking? Diner first, or are you itching to get home?”

“Pshh, like you even have to ask”, she smirks.

The first time that Steven had driven up to visit Connie on her campus, they had accidentally stumbled across a little diner called Rosa’s when they’d been looking for somewhere to eat. They’d shared awkward giggles over the pink roses scattered all over the sign advertising the place, and decided to check the place out “just for the joke”, but were soon to discover that Rosa’s sold the best pie slices either of them had ever had, and took it upon themselves to try a different slice of pie every time they went there. He’s yet to find one better than their cherry pie slices, but Connie always teases him with the increasingly likely fact that it’s just because it’s the first flavor he ever tried.

This is the kind of consistency Steven is talking about. He can visit the gems any time, he talks to his dad on the phone on an almost nightly basis, and his weekly escapades with Lars are still going strong. But nothing makes him feel more consistent, more human, than when he’s with Connie. Looking forward to things as mundane as pie slices, or silent car rides, or very not-so-silent car rides, or cloud gazing, or stargazing, or anything he gets to experience with her makes everything in his life feel that much more cheerful and exciting.

The morning after he woke up in the middle of the night with the words not now repeating over and over in his head, he called her as soon as he woke up and told her he wanted to talk about what happened after he returned home from the hospital. Good news this time, I promise, he had told her, and minutes later they were right back where they had been, walking hand and hand down the shoreline. They talked all morning about their relationship, and the future near and far, and after dozens of rejected apologies on the grounds that Connie insisted he didn’t need to make them, they shared their first real kiss.

And Steven had felt like he was on cloud nine.

And for every kiss after, every phone call, every date, that feeling of cloud nine never really went away. It felt unreal, being with Connie.

Five years ago, if he’d been asked, he would’ve said he couldn’t live without Connie. He’d say he needed her, like his life depended on it, like he wouldn’t have a future without her. If someone asked him now, he’d say sure, he could live without Connie, but he can’t possibly imagine why he would ever want to.

Not now.

That had been when Connie was a sophomore in high school. They were sixteen. She hadn’t even taken the SATs yet (whatever those were), let alone gotten accepted into any of her colleges of choice. They were still kids, stuck in their pining phases, too scared to make the first move, let alone call the other their partner to their face.

Connie’s a senior in college now. She’ll be graduating in a month and a half. She’s been working on job applications since the end of her junior year. Her birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Where they once giggled at the idea of holding hands, it’s now harder to catch them with their hands apart. They’re inseparable when they’re together. Ruby and Sapphire have Garnet. Steven and Connie have Stevonnie, but he realizes now he doesn’t need Stevonnie, just as Ruby and Sapphire don’t necessarily need Garnet.

He doesn’t need to be with Connie forever to be happy; he wants to be with Connie forever because she makes him so happy.

If he weren’t so focused on driving a car right now, the thought would’ve slammed into him a lot harder than it did. As a matter of fact, he’s almost surprised he didn’t accidentally slam the breaks of the car on, the way those thoughts seemed to crash into him. He takes a quick moment to glance over at her in the seat beside him, and she’s staring dreamily out the window, looking just as lost in thought as he just felt.

The idea crosses his mind that she could be thinking about the same things as him, and it brings a pink blush to his cheeks once again. He quickly turns his attention back to the road, and practically sighs in relief when he sees that they’re pulling up to the diner. Once parked, he takes a deep breath as quietly as he can manage, and turns to Connie.

“Hey,” he smiles in an attempt to assure her that there’s nothing wrong. “You think you can go in and get our table? I’m gonna give the gems a call and let them know we’re on our way”. He hates lying to her, but it’s the closest he can come to the truth without blatantly telling her he’s thinking of proposing again, so he brushes it off as “not counting as lying”.

As if she’s trying to read his thoughts, Connie glances at him for a few moments, before she leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “Sure,” she says, and unclips her seatbelt and steps out of the car. She leans on her door for a moment, smirking. “Don’t take too long,” she teases, and it’s with a grin and a silent wave from Steven that she closes the door and heads into the diner.

As soon as he’s sure she’s gone, he scrambles for his phone in his pocket, and shakily scrolls through his list of contacts until he reaches G. He takes a deep breath, to center himself, and hits call.

“Hello, Steven” Garnet answers after only two rings. “It’s so good to hear from you. I assume you and Connie are on your way home?”

“Yep!” Steven replies cheerily, but rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “But, uh, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about”.

“Oh?”

He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about proposing to Connie. For real this time”.

There’s a painfully long silence. Steven’s almost worried he accidentally hung up, or that there’s terrible service, until suddenly there’s the sound of “STEVEN!!! STEVEN STEVEN STEVEN!!!!” from Ruby’s voice screaming into the other end of the ear piece. “I KNOW I’M HORRIBLE AT ADVICE BUT DO IT!! DO IT! YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER!! DO IT DO IT DO IT!!!!” she squeals, and Steven laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, hey Ruby…” he says. “It’s great to talk to you, but I was really hoping I could talk to-” he starts, but there’s the sound of the phone dropping to the floor on the other end followed by another short pause.

“Me,” Garnet finishes his sentence for him. “Sorry, those two just can’t contain themselves when they hear any talk of weddings. You were a terrible influence on them”, she teases, and Steven blushes again.

“I know….” he replies, but then he shakes his head to reorganize his thoughts. “Wait, no, I don’t have a lot of time, Connie’s waiting for me in the diner”.

On the other end, Garnet chuckles. “Wow, you’re really serious about this”.

“I wasn’t going to do it right now!” Steven squeaks, face burning hotter than it’s ever felt in his entire life. “I don’t even have a ring yet,” he mumbles, nervously playing with his hair. “I called you because I wanted to ask if you thought I should go through with it”.

“Hmmm….” Garnet hums, like she’s actually running the numbers in her head. “Well,” she finally says after a painfully long pause of what couldn’t have been longer than three seconds. “Do you love Connie?”

Garnet’s going to kill him, he swears. He’s going to melt into a puddle right here on the seat of his car.

“Yes, I love Connie more than anything else in the world!”

“Do you think she loves you?”

“I…” Steven freezes. “I’m pretty sure, I can’t exactly speak for-”

“Do you want to take care of her?” Garnet cuts him off.

The question suddenly makes him tear up. He wipes at his eyes. “I-I mean, she can take care of herself, but if she’d let me-”

“Then I think you should.” Garnet replies surprisingly nonchalantly. “Steven, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The reason your proposal didn’t work out the first time was because you and Connie were very young. You know that. The probability of Connie saying yes or no doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you would be asking her the second time. Your proposal to her this time wouldn’t be any less valid because you thought you had wanted the same thing when you were sixteen. Connie’s answer can’t be swayed by me looking into your future. I can look all you want into hundreds and thousands of different futures, and it still won’t matter. If you want to propose to Connie, all you have to be sure of is whether or not it’s what you truly want. You have to be absolutely certain that you love her to the moon and back and you need to have the self-confidence to tell yourself that she loves you just the same. You need to want to take care of her just as much as she’s going to take care of you. You have to understand that Connie is your equal, not what makes you whole. You have to look inside yourself and ask if you believe your love for Connie is strong enough to withstand anything. You can ask me to look into whatever future you want, but the person you should really be asking these questions is yourself. So tell me, Steven Universe, do you believe it’s the right thing to do?”

His vision is blurry with tears again. “I do.” He wipes his tears with his wrist. “Thanks, Garnet”.

“Don’t thank me, thank yourself” she says, and then, after a short pause, “I love you, Steven”.

He giggles. “I love you too”.

Clicking his phone off and placing it back into his pocket, he exits the car to join Connie in the diner. And if he thought he felt euphoric the first time he came to this conclusion, when he was skipping around Beach City gathering flowers and a suit and his own wedding cake, that’s nothing compared to how he feels now, when he’s not even planning to propose until he can stop by the jewelry store just outside of Beach City, and he can’t even do that with Connie in the passenger seat of his car.

He stops at the door of the diner, fixes his hair in his barely-visible reflection in the window, and steps inside.

“Steven, over here!” Connie waves at him from a table towards the back, and his heart starts beating so hard in his chest he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it. “Everything okay back home?”

He grins. “Well, Garnet fell apart on me,” he shrugs, intentionally pausing long enough to raise concern, “but that’s just because Ruby really wanted to talk to me”.

She snickers. “Well, after all that proposal business, I’m not surprised”.

The color fades from Steven’s face. There’s no way she could’ve overheard his phone conversation from in here, could she? He wasn’t projecting his thoughts to her phone again, was he?

“What?”

She reaches across the table and takes his hands in his own, smiling softly. “Steven, I’m kidding. I just meant that I’m not surprised she falls apart so easily”.

“Oh, “Steven practically sighs in relief. “Well, you know them, falling apart to win a baseball game against Homeworld”. He says, trying desperately to cover up the slamming of his heart.

She laughs again, retrieving one of her hands back from him to cover her mouth, a habit she never quite broke from when they first started dating, and it’s this little meaningless gesture that Steven finds himself falling even more in love with Connie. He starts giggling too, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of his own set of thoughts, or if it’s because Connie’s laughter is just that adorably contagious, or maybe it’s some kind of beautiful mixture of both.

Either way, he can barely finish his slice of pie when it comes to the table.

“I guess I’m just...really excited to get back home again”, he explains when she asks about it once they’re back in the car, which technically isn’t a lie either.

“Mmm, me too” she agrees sleepily, curling up against her seat in the car. “Kinda makes me wish I ate less so I’d be awake when we got there”.

He chuckles, sparing a glance over to her. Her hair is already falling over her face, and her cheek is squished up against the seat. God, he loves her so, so much. “Yeah, well, if you’re still asleep when we get to your parents’ house, I’ll carry you to your room myself”.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, like she wasn’t fully paying attention to what he actually said. “That sounds nice”.

He laughs again, quieter this time, and takes the rest of the car ride to let himself stew in his thoughts. There’s nothing he wants more, he realizes, then to be able to do this every day with her. Not just casual dates to local diners for dinner and slices of pie, but for moments like this, falling asleep in the car on the way home, trusting the other enough to safely guide them home.

She’s still asleep when they pull up to her parents’ house, and, a man of his word, Steven carries her all the way to her room (with assurance to her parents that she’s fine, she’s just tired from the ride, she’s okay with being carried).

Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, who love their daughter more than anything, who’ve known Steven for less than a decade, simply nod their heads and let him handle everything.

That’s a silent blessing if he’s ever heard one.

On his way out the door, he wishes them a good night, and once in his car, makes a beeline for the jewelry store. He makes it to the store just before closing, and takes it as good a sign as any that it’s now or never.

And the moment he parks his car on the beach in front of the temple, Garnet’s there, and as soon as Steven steps out of the car and into her embrace, he’s laughing, and he’s crying, and it’s the hardest he’s cried in five years, and the best he’s felt in even longer.

Despite everything, despite the driving and the diner and all the catching up he’d been doing with the gems and his dad last night, Steven is running on the least amount of sleep he’s ever gotten in his life.

It’s not that he spent the whole night worrying that she’s going to say no, it’s that he’s not sure he’s ever been more excited in his entire life. Call him cheesy, call him cliché, but he’s been planning his own wedding for as long as he can remember, but now that it might happen in the near future? With Connie?

He’s not sure how he’s going to handle popping the question, let alone how Connie’s going to react to it.

His phone tells him it’s 8:30am, but he’s already been awake for so long that it feels much later than that. He’s lucky that Connie never broke her early bird habits in college, because if she had made him wait even another hour he’s sure that he would’ve exploded from anticipation. He’s standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to fix up his hair to look nice, but not so nice that it’s obvious something’s up, and once he’s satisfied with how it looks he takes one more look at himself in the mirror.

“Take a good long look,” he says to his reflection, “because the next time you see me you may be looking at Steven Universe-Maheswaran”. Just hypothetically attaching her last name to his own makes him grin, so he repeats the name under his breath again, and again, like he’s six years old again telling himself in the mirror that he’s a Crystal Gem too.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and there’s only two words on his phone screen, but right now they feel like the most important words in the world.

“I’m here.” Sent by Connie at 8:39am

He takes one more deep breath, exits the bathroom, and grabs the ring box from the kitchen counter before he steps outside.

“So...what’s so important that you just had to tell me so early in the morning?” Connie asks as they walk down the steps of his house. He tries to shrug and act as nonchalant as he can, but fails miserably. He takes her hand in his own, and squeezes it gently.

“Take a walk with me”.

“Oh,” Connie blinks, like it wasn’t what she was expecting him to say at all. “Okay,”

As they’re walking away from the house, down the beach and out of the view of the temple and even further out of view of the rest of Beach City, Steven looks around and thinks back, back to the hundreds of times they’d walked this very beach together, as innocent friends, as comrades in battle, as boyfriend and girlfriend, and now, if things go right….

He stops in his tracks, gently. “Connie?”

“Yes?”

He places his hand on top of hers, gazing into her beautiful, soft brown eyes. Keep it together, he tells himself, his breath already getting shaky. Slowly, to steady his balance and his rapidly pounding, he sinks to one knee, and Connie, quick as ever, takes a step backwards.

“S-Steven?”

“Connie….” He pulls his ring box out of his pocket and pops it open to reveal a beautiful, sparkling engagement ring. “Will you marry me?” He asks, his eyes sparkling brighter than they’ve ever sparkled. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, he places the ring box on the sand and takes Connie’s hand in his own again. “Connie, I love you so much. I love you more than every planet in the galaxy, more than every single gem on Homeworld combined. I want to be with you for the rest of my life because I can’t imagine life without you in it.” he shakes his head.

“I know I said the same thing when we were sixteen. But I don’t mean it the same way now that I did then. You’re strong, and you’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and it’s like Garnet once told me, your soulmate is your compliment, not your missing piece. I want to be your compliment, Connie. I want to be your cheerleader. I don’t care if I’m thousands of lightyears away on some escapade with Lars, or you’re working towards getting your PhD, I want to be there for you. I want to experience everything with you, the same way we used to when we were kids.” He picks his ring box back up. “I want to marry you, Connie” he grins, finally caving in on the tears rolling down his cheeks. “No Stevonnie required”.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Steven can’t see anything through his own tears. He blinks to clear his vision, and she’s staring at him with her hands covering over her mouth, failing miserably not to cry herself. Her gaze keeps glancing from the ring box to Steven and back again.

They make direct eye contact for the briefest of moments, and she practically dives on him. “Yes, yes yes!” she sobs. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” She beams, and out of heat of the moment euphoria, Steven picks Connie up in his arms and starts spinning her around and around until there’s a bright flash of light surrounding them and, ironically, Stevonnie is standing alone on the beach with their arms wrapped around themself.

Upon realizing what’s happened, Stevonnie start laughing, and laughing, and they drop to the sand on their knees, and they don’t stop laughing until the force and sheer joy of it splits them apart into Steven and Connie, sprawled over on top of each other on the sand.

Connie rolls over from where she’d landed on top of Steven, but turns to face him so she can pepper his face with kisses. “Of course I want to marry you, Steven”, she reiterates, grinning from ear to ear. She takes his face in her hands like she’d done dozen of times before. “I love you so much. You didn’t need to prepare some big speech for me, Steven. It’s like I’ve always said”, she stands, and offers her hand out to Steven to help him stand to his feet.

“I want to be a part of your universe”.

#my writing #connverse #steven universe #su #suf

277 notes · View notes

myforeverforlife · 5 years ago

Text

caught in your orbit.

Byun Baekhyun, a name synonymous with success. His fame skyrocketed during his early days as an actor and model, and it seemed like his new venture into fashion design was taking him even higher. You’ve worked with Baekhyun for years, accompanying him to shoots and using his face as a canvas for your makeup. You’re no stranger to Baekhyun’s flirtatious advances, but as much as you’d like to give in, something holds you back...

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Word Count: 3,952

Masterlist

It was easy to be swept up in the modeling industry, where each face seemed even more beautiful than the last. But you've always been intensely career-driven, and you were determined not to let anything distract you from your work.

However, it was hard when former model/actor turned creative director for fashion brand Privé was sitting in your makeup chair. It never failed to amaze you how Byun Baekhyun easily drew people into his orbit, everyone attracted to the shine and brilliance that he emanated.

And you were one of them — a moth drawn to a luminous flame.

Baekhyun's soft locks fell over his forehead, styled messily in a way to suggest a carefree look. "How long has it been since we worked together? I haven't seen you in forever." He opened his eyes, staring up at you with a fond smile.

“We saw each other at the TirTir shoot two days ago, Baekhyun. Now, stop talking. You’re going to ruin my work,” you chastised him as you hurried to salvage the crooked smudge of shadow drawn along his lashes. You were in the midst of giving him the illusion of thicker eyelashes without the harshness of regular eyeliner. In fact, for this shoot, you were forgoing it altogether.

Dutiful as ever, Baekhyun shut his mouth, although you could see the corners of his lips twitching as he struggled to remain still. The two of you had built up a playful friendship over the years, a light game of cat-and-mouse going back and forth. For every joke, every mischievous nudge in your direction, you were easily able to match him with one of your own. Of course, Baekhyun had been a canvas for other makeup artists to work on, but none of them came close to you. He admired your work so much, that he had asked you to work exclusively for him, a constant part of his team. You often spent long, exhausting hours following him around to events and schedules, but you took pride in your work, and you genuinely enjoyed being around Baekhyun.

Maybe a bit too much.

As you finished smudging the eyeshadow at the base of his lashes, you took a step back. Today’s shoot called for a natural, laid-back kind of look. Baekhyun was honored to be chosen as the model for the front cover of Lined magazine, along with a 5-page story on his career. The emphasis of this spread was to highlight Baekhyun's achievements — all while managing to stay humble and innovative. As a result, the creative team had selected outfits with muted colors like beige and rich navy blue, all to highlight the star of the month's issue.

You had done your best to complement these outfit choices, choosing to keep eye makeup to a minimum with only eyeshadow along the top lashline. The rest of Baekhyun’s face had been kept minimal as well. Since his skin was already maddeningly clear, you had chosen to skip his regular cushion foundation and used only concealer for any touch-ups. His cheeks were dusted with a faint flush of a pale peachy color, and you had put a bit of highlighter atop the blush. The highlighter wasn’t the shimmery type that you usually used. Instead, you opted for a cream highlighter that gave Baekhyun’s face a soft glow, seeming to hint at a natural radiance that came from within. A delicate tinted balm was the only thing to coat his lips, and you had scattered faint freckles over his cheekbones as a finishing touch.

Baekhyun opened his eyes as you turned to look at his face in the mirror. He grinned as your eyes traced over his features, studying your work and looking for anything else that needed to be done. "Like what you see?" he asked, a soft purr.

"Maybe peach is the wrong color," you mused, ignoring his obvious attempt at flirting.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, letting out a soft laugh. "Even when you're looking at me, you're not really looking at me."

"I am," you countered. Deft fingers pulled out another blush palette, searching through assorted colors before selecting a slightly orange-brown shade. "It's my job to stare at you for hours on end, Baekhyun."

"You know what I mean." He stared up at your face as you colored his cheeks subtly with the new color. "Not as part of your work, but just me. Just Baekhyun." He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting away and back before speaking again. "I want you to look at me the way that I look at you," he added quietly.

You paused, brush held up in the air before you sighed. "You're my boss. And as if that wasn't enough, you're Byun Baekhyun. South Korea's beloved jewel, one of the most recognizable faces." Placing the makeup brush down, you snapped the blush palette closed with a tiny click.

"So you've never thought of me in that way?"

"What way?"

Baekhyun groaned. "Don't play dumb, Y/N. You know what I mean."

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. It would take a fool to ignore how all of Baekhyun's actions, his sweet words directed towards you were unlike any that he gave to everyone else. For you, he saved only the most charming of smiles, the most melodious sounds of his lilting laughter. You had entertained the thought a few times — the thought of dating the genius model and fashion trendsetter, Byun Baekhyun. But every time, you pushed those thoughts away. Even if you did feel the same way, there was no way that it would work out.

"Baekhyun." You glanced at the clock, eyes widening as you realized that he needed to be out in the studio in the next few minutes. "I can't."

"Why?"

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Because I work for you. I'm just another staff member, another person supporting you from behind the scenes. I'm not like you, Baekhyun. You... you're dazzling, and easy to be around, and I love coming to work because you bring so much energy, but it would never work out. It's safer in the long run to just keep work and dating separate."

Baekhyun watched, wide-eyed during your impassioned rant. "Why can't you have both? Why does this have to end with us getting hurt?"

You opened your mouth to speak just as the door opened, Baekhyun's manager popping his head in. "You need to be out there, now," he emphasized.

Baekhyun glanced between you and his manager, torn between duty and what he wanted to do. A weak smile found its way onto your face. "Go. I'll be out there in a bit."

He hesitated, concern hiding in the depths of his eyes before he remembered where he was, and what he needed to do. With a parting nod, Baekhyun tore himself away, his shoes tapping softly against the floor as he headed out to where the rest of the crew was set up.

Left alone in the small room, you turned to stare at your reflection in the mirror. You had worked hard to get to where you were, doing makeup for one of the biggest celebrities in South Korea. But you had seen and heard enough of the world of fame to realize that you wanted as little to do with it as possible.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, thrived in it. He was shy around new people, but his genuine friendliness and ease of character won everyone over in all circles. It was terrifying to think of being thrust into that same world when you were so used to just being one of the many working behind the scenes. Plus, if your relationship fell through, nothing would ever be the same at work again. It hurt to even imagine the loss of Baekhyun's smiles as he talked to you, his boisterous laughter filling up the room. What would you do if that was all gone? You were scared of falling even deeper for him, but you were even more scared about losing what you already had.

You frowned at your reflection, frustrated with the person you saw in there. It would be so much easier if you weren't attracted to him. But, another voice reasoned, your life wouldn't be nearly as bright without him in it.

It was a fine line that you held, always teetering on the edge of professionalism and something more. But Baekhyun made you curious to cross that line, to see what lay ahead in the future even if it scared you.

Running a hand through your hair, you gathered up your materials, ready to join the rest of the staff for Baekhyun's photoshoot.

He was a star at the center of everything, and you had no choice but to fall into his orbit.

Thankfully, your schedule was clear the next day. But that didn't mean that Baekhyun hadn't tried to contact you, sending a few texts that remained unread. You had bolted out of the photoshoot as soon as you could, unwilling to pick up where you left off, especially in front of many other watchful eyes.

The day after threw you right back into the lion's den.

This was the biggest project that Baekhyun had taken on so far, a new launch by Privé titled "Delight". The pieces were unlike anything else that the brand had created, straying from the comfy-casual look that the "Be Humble" line had. It was as if this line was crafted with the sole purpose to torture you, plans for Privé to launch more mature, sleek clothing.

That also meant that Baekhyun would be modeling these pieces beforehand, pictures of outfit combinations running through your mind as you stepped into work.

Baekhyun was already sitting in a chair, the hairstylist working her magic on him as she parted his hair to the side and set it in place. Much to your distress, he wore a dark, velvet jacket with nothing underneath. A delicate gold necklace rested on his chest, a few rings adorning his fingers. Baekhyun glanced up as he heard you approach, his face lighting up. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you replied, only sparing him a polite smile before leaving to consult with the rest of the staff. You could feel him staring, following along as you moved around.

Soon enough, the hairstylist was done with her part, and all that was left was to get his makeup done. To your surprise, Baekhyun made no mention of your conversation. He waited patiently, going along with every request that you made for him to lift his chin, close his eyes, and so on. Even stranger was the silence in the room, only interrupted by the music playing from Baekhyun's phone and the bustling of people coming in and out. It was only when you let Baekhyun know you were done, did he finally speak up.

He studied his face in the mirror, fingers running lightly over the rosy blush that you had used on his cheeks. His eyes shifted to yours, radiating warmth. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"Of course it's beautiful, it's your face." Baekhyun's expression fell, and he spun around in his chair to meet you face-to-face. "You can't say these sweet things and then push me away all the time," he pouted.

"I'm sorry," you apologized quickly, an immediate response.

Shaking his head, Baekhyun stood up. "I don't want you to apologize, I want you to explain why you keep running. What scares you so much?"

"Baekhyun, please. Not here." You glanced over at the open door, a staff member walking past as they called out to someone else. "Let's talk about this later."

"Promise? You're not going to hide from me like last time?"

The idea was tempting, but you also knew that you owed it to both you and Baekhyun to finally get this out and into the open. No matter how much it hurt. Nodding, you reached up to brush off a stray eyelash on his cheek. "I promise."

Baekhyun's tense shoulders loosened up, his hand chasing after yours and closing over it in a comforting warmth. "Okay," he breathed out. "Later, then."

Watching Baekhyun as he stood in front of the camera was mesmerizing, always drawing you in as if you were seeing him for the first time. Even as he lay on the floor, a hand over his exposed chest as he stared into the camera, you couldn't bear to look away. The camera lights flashed as he brought his fingers lazily up his chest, stopping at his lips. He smirked as he glanced back up to the camera, eyes hooded in the look that you recognized all too well.

"My fatal look, able to win over people of all ages," he had explained to you once as you touched up his makeup.

He wasn't wrong. A few of the staff oohed and aahed in appreciation, just as starstruck by his beauty. You went over next to the monitors, watching as the shots of Baekhyun flooded the screen — his eyes seeming to look directly into your own.

The next series of shots had Baekhyun leaning against a wall, fingers tracing over the rim of a glass as he stared off into the distance. He truly was a genius model, shifting positions so that his chin rested in his hand, to letting the shadows cover part of his face as he leaned a certain way. Every time the photographer paused long enough for you to touch up Baekhyun's makeup, a wide grin appeared on the model's face.

"You're going to smudge your lipstick if you keep touching your lips like that," you chastised gently as you leaned forward to fix it.

Baekhyun immediately clasped his hands together behind his back. "Yes, ma'am."

That brought a giggle out of you, much to Baekhyun's delight.

The rest of the shoot followed in a similar fashion, Baekhyun taking your breath away as he posed in various outfits, and then making you burst into laughter as he joked around with you and the rest of the staff. It was a familiar routine, something you had experienced many times, but it still didn't lose its charm. Yet at the same time, it only fed your growing worries. What if you did try to make this work between you and Baekhyun, but it ended horribly? You'd be so uncomfortable around him, it would be unbearable. You were comfortable in this space where Baekhyun was both attainable, and yet out of reach. At least here, you could adore him without fear of losing him.

You sighed as Baekhyun posed in his last outfit for the day, a cream-colored top with some purple pants — not a fashion choice you personally would've made. And yet, he still managed to pull it off effortlessly. He sat on the floor, knees bent as he leaned his elbows against the top. His lips were a shiny, glossy pink, only emphasizing the natural pout to his lips. Once, he accidentally licked his lips, face contorting into a look of shock and disgust at the bitter taste. You laughed as you helped him, giving him a napkin to wipe his mouth with before reapplying his lip gloss.

Finally, after many hours and multiple outfit changes, he was done! Everyone cheered as it was announced that the shoot was over, Baekhyun going around and thanking everyone for their work and commitment. You headed back to the dressing room first, nervous for what you knew was yet to come.

Baekhyun followed along shortly after, darting into the empty room as you were in the midst of cleaning up. "Hey," he murmured. You sank down in a chair, shoulders slumping as you tried to calm the racing in your chest. "Baekhyun, I like you. You know I do. But it's not that easy, especially because it's you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Groaning, you bit down on your bottom lip as you tried to figure out how to phrase your thoughts. "You're a star, Baekhyun. I'm not. We only see each other during work, and that's it. What if we're just too different? What if this doesn't work out?" You raised a finger as Baekhyun opened his mouth to speak. "And don't say that we won't, because you don't know that."

"But why are you so convinced that it will?" He came closer, eyes blazing as he stared down at you. "There's nothing that I've seen that convinces me this'll end in a breakup. You care about me, and I care about you. That's the only thing that matters."

"It's not that easy, Baekhyun. I," here you paused, nervous about what you were about to say. "I love getting to be a part of your day, to see you light up and be in your element. I can't imagine not coming into work and seeing you there. I can't imagine a life without you. But I'm so scared that things will end badly, and that all of this will be taken away — that it'll just be too awkward for us and that we'll lose what we have now." You felt the stinging of tears in your eyes, hands coming up to wipe at them roughly as you stood and looked around for some spare tissues.

Baekhyun came over, wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape. "But what if there's something better ahead?" he asked softly. "We won't know unless we try." His lips curved into a sad smile as you stood there, eyes still closed and unwilling to look at him. "Y/N. Look at me, please."

Who were you to refuse him?

Slowly, you opened your eyes, heart tightening as you saw how Baekhyun stared at you so lovingly, so tenderly.

"I like you. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. And I care about you enough to say that I want to try this. I'm not that naive to believe that everything will be smooth from here on out, but I still want to try because at least I'll be with you. Not as your boss, or Byun Baekhyun... just yours. Your Baekhyun." One of his hands moved to caress your cheek, and you took pleasure in the way that your face fit perfectly in his hold. "We can go as slowly as you want, just... don't run away before anything's even started. Be brave with me, Y/N."

It was easier said than done, but coming from Baekhyun, you found the walls surrounding your heart start to weaken and crumble down. He was right in his own way — how would you know for sure unless you took that leap of faith? Besides, you would have Baekhyun by your side, strong, supportive Baekhyun who never let you down.

"Okay," you agreed, letting out a breathy laugh as Baekhyun's eyes grew wide with surprise. "I mean it. I'll be brave with you, Baekhyun." You reached up to poke the tiny mole resting beside his upper lip, one of the features that you liked best on him. "You're mine now," you said, relishing in the fact that you were the only one in the world who could say those words.

"And you're mine." Baekhyun leaned in to kiss the top of your forehead, completely forgetting about his lip gloss until he pulled away and saw the smear of pink covering your skin. "Oh no," he gasped, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

You looked in the mirror, bursting into giggles when you saw the mess on your face. Immediately, you retaliated by swiping the lipgloss from Baekhyun's face, drawing a faint line that nearly reached his cheek. While you had been expecting to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, you were shocked to find that he still managed to look good. Too good...

"What?" Baekhyun glanced in the mirror, staring at the smudged lipgloss caressing his bottom lip. "Oh," he breathed out, turning back to you. A slow, teasing smile grew on his face as he reached up with one hand. You watched, unable to look away as he rubbed the back of his hand against his lips, only dragging the shimmering gloss further across his face.

With a quick intake of breath, you forced out a shaky laugh. "You make me want to kiss you when you do things like that," you blurted out, barely realizing what you had said after the words left your mouth.

Baekhyun blinked in surprise, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Then do it."

You didn't need any more prompting, almost knocking into him as you leaned up to kiss him. It might not have been the best kiss ever because of the tacky, sticky lip gloss, but the fact that it was Baekhyun you were kissing more than made up for it.

Baekhyun melted against you, hands pulling you close and tightening in the hem of your shirt. He gasped as you nipped softly at his bottom lip, no longer caring about getting lip gloss all over you.

A loud thud from out in the open studio startled both of you apart, you and Baekhyun having completely forgotten where you were.

Baekhyun quickly looked over his shoulder, sighing in relief when he saw no one there. He turned back to you with a bashful smile, his already rosy cheeks taking on an even pinker shade. He placed his hands on his cheeks, laughing at how warm his face was. "As pretty as you made me look today, I need to get out of this makeup. My skin's dying here."

You had cleansing water and cotton rounds on hand after every shoot, already used to Baekhyun's discomfort of staying in makeup for too long. He drenched another cotton round in the liquid as you began erasing the makeup on his face.

"I know it's been a long day, but do you want to grab dinner together?" He looked up at you from underneath his lashes, biting down on his lip as he waited for your answer.

"I'd like that," you replied, carefully wiping away the rest of his lipgloss. "Just as long as we're not out too late. We have another busy day tomorrow."

"I'm the boss, I can push back the starting time," Baekhyun joked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

"Don't be silly," you reprimanded, although there was no trace of malice in your voice. How could anyone be mad with him?

"You're the center of my universe, Y/N. I'd push the shoot back years if it meant I'd get more free time with you." Baekhyun smirked proudly as you felt the tips of your ears growing warm at his unexpected sweetness.

"Stop," you whined, pressing your forehead to his chest. You could feel his suppressed laughter rumbling in his chest, an infectious sensation.

"Alright," Baekhyun gave in, lifting your face back up so he could look at you. "Let me get out of these, and then we'll be out of here." He dove in for a quick kiss before rushing out of the room, his voice echoing down the hall as he called out to his manager.

You were caught up in his orbit, and yet he had called you the center of his universe. It was strange to think of how much space you took up in his heart, and he in yours. It was still nerve-racking to jump into something new, to be brave in the face of an unknown future. But Baekhyun was by your side, calming you down and working with you to sort out your fears before they held you back. Just Baekhyun, not mega-celebrity Byun Baekhyun.

Yours.

A/N: this is basically just me self-indulging in looking at delight scans and gushing about how good baekhyun looks. I had this sort of model/make-up artist draft sitting around for about a year, and this finished fic is COMPLETELY different from how that started out.

for reference: the first shoot is from baekhyun’s lined magazine cover shoot, and the second is from his teasers for delight (specifically the sticky and sweet ones)

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

133 notes · View notes

nite-shay · 5 years ago

Text

A Helping Hand - Todoroki Shoto x Reader

AN:

Idea: Character finding out their S/O has a prosthetic limb. (Think automail from full metal alchemist).

Sorry for any misspelling or grammar mistakes.

Todoroki Shoto x Reader

You sighed as you dropped your duffle bag on the floor beside your bed before flopping on to the soft mattress. The dorms were usually busy this time of day. However, the week-long break just started, and most if not all of the students rushed out as soon as the last bell of the day rang. You were one of the few who decided to stay behind.

That choice was coming back to bite you in the ass. Hard.

If you had gone home, you could meet up with Hatsume, and she could fix this issue you were having.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up and started rummaging through your bag in search of the object you needed fixing. Your mechanical arm had gotten damaged during your spar with your classmate, Todoroki Shoto.

Today's assignment was to work on hand to hand combat something you excelled but not your partner. The fight had been going well; however, the fighting was making the class run a bit longer than it should have. So to speed things up, Aizawa allowed quirk usage about halfway through the match. With one final powerful attack, he managed to trap your arm, along with most of your right side, in a mini glacier of ice, thus ending the match and class.

You knew you were in trouble the moment you felt the cold bite of the metal parts against your fleshy shoulder. Even after he thawed your arm, you weren't able to move it. You rushed off to the support class, as soon as you got changed, praying your friend got caught up in working on a new baby and delaying her departure.

However, you were not that lucky.

And now here you are with only one arm.

It was going to be a long week.

Instead of lying in self-pity, you decided you might as well try to fix it. It already didn't work, not like you could do anything worse to it. Grabbing your duffle bag and other tools, you headed over to the dining area. The dining table would give you the room you needed, plus it had better lighting. It didn't take you too long to get everything transported, and your work area set up.

With earbuds in and the volume at a comfortable drown out the world level, you got to work.

While you weren't the brilliant support tech that built your arm, you could handle a few basic repairs. With no one else being here, it wasn't like you had much of a choice. You even asked Power Loader for help, but since it wasn't his expertise or handiwork, there wasn't much he could do. He did, however, offer full access to the shop and any tool you may need.

Slowly but surely, you started to disassemble the outer layer of your arm. Between the music and the project in front of you, the world around you slowly vanished.

An hour later….

Todoroki was making his way back to the dorms after visiting his mother. While his classmates and most of the students left earlier that day, excited to see their families, he decided to stay. He did not share the same excitement when it came to home visits. Though he would miss his sister's cooking. Even the best chefs at UA didn't hold a candle to her home-cooked meals.

As he made his way through the back doorway of the commons area, he was surprised to hear noises… He thought he was the only one left...

Was that drilling?

Curious, he made his way to the dining area where he could see you hunched over something on the table.

"(L/N)?" He called out. Thanks to Midoriya and the others, Todoroki was becoming more … vocal with the rest of the class. You were one of the ones he would talk to the most. Mainly because Aizawa assigned the two of you together for training and assignments fairly often. He never understood his reason, but the bi-color haired boy didn't care. He preferred working with you more so than some of his other classmates (*Cough Cough* Bakugo).

Today the two of you had a mock battle during last class. He enjoyed sparing with you; your skills made it a challenge for him. But it also allowed him to be near you without making him feel awkward. He didn't understand why but he enjoyed your company. The battle had been primarily one-sided, with you in favor of winning. That was until Aizawa allowed quirk usage. While you excelled in close range combat, your quirk suited to defend against his long rang ice attack. He quickly overwhelmed you, ending the match.

Soon after the match, he saw you quickly gather your things before running off towards the school. He figured you were in a hurry to leave for the break like everyone else, not to rush back here.

"(L/N) "He approached you slowly, trying to get your attention. You had changed into a pair of black pants and a red tank top. He could also see a folded white rag sitting on your right shoulder. The closer he got, the more he could see what you were working on, some machine parts and hand tools laid scattered on the table. Your seemed foot bouncing an unknown beat as you sat there cross-legged in the chair.

His upper lip twitches in a slight smirk as he studied the determined look in your eyes. It was the same one you had when you were studying or working on something you didn't quite understand.

It was cute.

Taking a steady breath, he finally reached out and gently touched your exposed left shoulder. While he still wasn't one for touch, with you, he didn't seem to mind. "(L/N)."

"Shit!" You jolted from the chair you were in. Unfortunately, your legs got tangled upon themselves in your rush. Your habit of sitting cross-legged was going to be the death of you one day. Falling away from the hand that had seemingly came out of nowhere, you braced for the impact as your metal arm wasn't currently attached to help break your fall. After catching the wind that had been thoroughly knocked out of you, you look up to see heterochromia eyes. "Oh... hey, Todoroki... what's up?" You grimaced in embarrassment. Of all the people who could have seen your startled cat impression...

Guess it could have been worse... It could have been Bakugo... He’d never let you live it down...

"Sorry… I.. didn't mean to scare you…." He wasn't expecting you to be as startled as you were, so he was slow to respond. His eyes quickly checked over you for any injuries he might have caused. "Are you…" His breath caught in his throat as he watched you maneuver yourself to face him.

Your arm…. There weren't two… just one….

Where your right arm should have been… was nothing…

Something glimmered out of his peripheral vision. Glancing over from you, he saw what you were working on. It was an arm… A mechanical right arm…

"It's uh... Ow… it's fine...:'' You quickly got up from the floor looking at the stunned boy who was glancing between you and the arm on the table. "So.. uhhh… I guess you aren't going home for break, or are you waiting till tomorrow…" This was awkward. You hadn't told any about your arm.

The teachers knew, but that was beyond your control, and well, ok Midoriya and Bakugo know, but that's only because you grew up with them, so it's hard for them not to know.

"No. I decided to stay here for the week." He regains his composure before turning his focus solely on you.

"Oh.. well, uh… same here. I hope you don't mind the company."

"Not at all." He shifts a bit before asking. "Are you having issues with your…." He trailed off.

"Oh yeah. It umm.." You cleared your throat before smiling a bit at him. After working with him for so long, you were getting pretty good at reading him. He was uncomfortable and wasn't sure how to proceed. "My arm stopped working earlier today. So I was trying to fix it."

How did it get damaged?

How did he not know about your arm?

How did you lose your arm in the first place?

Was he making this awkward for you?

Should he leave? Should he stay?

So many questions ran through his mind. Uraraka and Yaoyorozu had been working him, so he didn't just blurt out his thoughts as much anymore. Well, he still did with Bakugo, but that was for fun. The girls called it 'reading the room.' He wanted to ask you every question that came to mind, but he didn't want to offend you.

"Do you… need assistance?" He finally settled on.

"Oh. Yeah!" You beamed at him, making him blush slightly. "As corny as this sounds, I could use a hand." If you hadn't been staring right at him, you would have missed that small twinge of his lip. It was a smile.

You went back to work as Todoroki sat across from you, silently observing your work.

While you were comfortable with his silence, you could tell he was not. He had questions, hell anyone would, but he didn't seem sure how to ask or how to start the conversation.

Looks like you would have to take the lead on this one.

"Can you hold this for me?" You point to the forearm panel with your screwdriver. He followed your instructions flawlessly. You do this a few more times, and this seems to ease him some until he finally began to talk to you.

"Do you always do the repairs yourself?" He quietly asked.

"No. Typically, Hatsume does, but she left already. It was her father that built my first arm, but this one is her handiwork pretty cool, huh?" You grinned. You were proud of your brilliant friend, as crazy as she was. You have to remind her every time she has a new idea for her baby, that you need an arm, not an arsenal.

"It is… impressive."

"Ah, ha!" You announced as you pull out the damaged piece of machinery that was the cause of all this trouble. "There you are, you little bugger!"

Seeing you smile in victory as you held up the small component made Todoroki's heart skip a beat. The part you held looks almost industrial grade. It made him curious about what could have caused it to become damaged.

"So how did it become damaged." He asked without hesitation.

"Oh… well, you see the water spots here." Sitting the item down, you point to the parts you were describing. "It happens when water or moisture gets in it. That caused the gear to seize up, and the rest cracked when the temperature around it rapidly changed." Your description of the damage reminded him in the way of Midoriya. The way he would mumble through his thoughts.

Water moisture….

Rapidly changing temperature….

He was the one that damaged her arm….

"I really am the hand crusher..." He sighed as he mumbled to himself.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"My last attack… caused your arm to break… didn't it?"

"Yeah... It did..."

"My apologies… if I had known…"

"If you had known, you wouldn't have attacked me like you did."

He nodded, and that caused her to sigh before putting down her tools and looking directly at him.

"Do you think of me as weak?" You kept your tone neutral, not wanting him to take your question the wrong way.

"No, you are one of the strongest students in our class." His response was honest and quick.

"And now that you know about my arm. What are your thoughts? Would you have gone at me like you did?" You inquired.

"You… are still one of the strongest.. and no, I would have aimed somewhere else... "

"And that's why I keep my arm a secret. You would have held back."

"But, I damaged it."

"So what, it can be fixed." You shrugged

"But…"

"Look, I don't need people to hold back on me. I need my friends to come at me with everything they have. Because I promise you this, a villain won't hold back. If they see my arm, that's where they will aim." This wasn't the first time you've had to explain this.

Friends...

He was silent. He understands your reasoning… somewhat but didn't like it...

"My friends will make me a stronger hero…"

"Your friends?"

"Our friends make us stronger…. I don't think I would have learned or gotten as far as I have without them…"

"What do you mean?"

"Every day with a friend, whether it's in class, just hanging out or in a match, you learn something from each other. The stuff you learn helps you along the way... Take my arm, for example…" You smile. "See, I know these three guys. One is a loudmouth with a foul temper, the other one is observant and kind, and the last one is stoic and very thoughtful. Without them, I would be like my arm was when I first got it, just an arm, nothing special. But thanks to them, I'll become more." You began pointing to different parts on your arm "Sparring with Kat, made me improve its resistance to shockwaves and heat. Thanks to Zuki, I improved its strength and impact resistance." You then grab the small part that he had damaged "And thanks to you, my arm will be stronger against water and ice. Like I said, my friends make me strong. And I'm not just talking about physically either. My arm is just a physical representation."

He thought long about what you said. Your thoughtful words reminded him of Midoriya, but they're straight forward… a Bakugo trait, no doubt. Suddenly Aizawa partnering you up together made sense.

But there was one thing you got wrong.

You were special...

No matter what...

"So… are we friends?" He managed to ask before he could blurt out his actual thought.

"I'd like us to be… if you want..." You nervously fiddled with the part in your hand. You didn't mean to just blurt out everything you did, but it was too late now. Hopefully, he wouldn't read too much into this. You honestly wanted to be more than friends but, he would need time. You know that. This wasn't something you could rush.

"I'm not an easy person to be around…"

"Come on, I made friends with the Katsuki Bakugo. I think I can handle you." You chuckled as you extended your arm and balled you hand into a fist hand balled. Todoroki had seen you do this with some of your other classmates. It was a fist bump. "So what do ya say?"

"I'd like that…" He gently touched his fist to yours...

From that day on you, two were inseparable and unstoppable.

Bonus bit:

"I'm telling you! Something is really strange about (L/N)." The electric quirk user emphasized to the rest of the group.

A grumble shut up came from the explosive blonde as he and his redheaded lover walked in front of Sero and Kaminari.

"Did you not see the tools in her room?" Kaminari continued

"Yeah! How about the can of metal polish? Weird…" Sero noted.

"Maybe she just builds models? You know like cars, planes or something?" Kirishima chimed in, hoping they dropped the subject that was clearly angering the boy beside him. But to no avail, the two guys behind them continued their conversation.

"What the hell kind of model do you build with those kinds of tools?"

"Dude… What if she's a robot?"

"A robot?"

"Yeah! What if she's a robot, and she's here to replace us all with robots!!!"

"You guys really need to lay off the late-night SciFi movies…" Kirishima could see the vein on Bakugo's forehead start to throb… Though the redhead was tempted to let his hot tempered boyfriend go after his classmates, he liked (L/N) and didn't appreciate them talking about you like that, but dinner and a movie sounded better than trying to hide two bodies tonight.

The Bakusquaud composed of Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were making their way through to the dining area. They just opened the door to see you fist bump with Todoroki. Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima and shocked to see you two sitting there, but Kaminari and Sero are more shocked by what they see on the table.

"AHHHHHH SHE REALLY IS A ROBOT!!!!!" You turn just in time to see two streaks of blonde and black hair run down the hallway to the safety of their rooms.

"You make the strangest friends, Kat….." You teased.

"FUCK YOU!"

Later on…

Bakugo is upset that you are now friends with Todoroki… also slightly upset about your arm but doesn't show it.

Kirishima is shocked by your arm but brushes it off. He tells you later that it makes you look manly and wants to arm wrestle you once you get fixed.

Bakugo and Kirishima fill you in on what Kaminari and Sero were talking about. You laugh but then take this chance to terrorize Sero and Kaminari a bit. Mainly using a remote arm (One of Hatsume's prototype 'babies' she gave you a while back) that would walk around like thing from the Adams family) for a bit before tell and proving to them that no… you're not a robot…

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #mha x you #bnha x you #mha imagines #bnha imagines

174 notes · View notes

normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

Note

I think both Magnus and Alec have a big part of their lifes that have nothing to do with eachother. Okey, they are happily married and the live together but anyway... What about their hobbies? What about their own personal projects? Friends/queerplatonic relationships? I want to know who they are, besides of great politic leaders or someone's husband

i mean, i agree. i hate it when ppl reduce magnus and alec to malec or just generally care more about the romantic relationships than the other ones, nevermind bothering to develop other aspects of their lives that are just... theirs

to be fair i feel like we got a reasonable amount of that for them (for shadowhunter’s standarts of giving us content anyway). i mean, less for alec but that kinda makes sense considering that he’s spent most of his life avoiding any kind of close relationships that weren’t with his siblings like the plague and generally being, like, raised in a military based society with the weight of the world on his shoulders and also gay. but i totally agree that we should have gotten more of him getting out of his shell and finding hobbies and friends beyond just a romantic relationship. and for magnus, well, we know that he likes physics and science and studying magic as a whole, and dancing, and we know about his friends aka catarina and ragnor and raphael and dot, we know about his found family and his club and that he likes parties and good food and drinks, travelling, and meeting new people and cultures. you know?

but anyway, other headcanons with little things about their lives:

alec is totally the workout gay who likes fucking, idk jogging every morning and shit, and for some reason i can see him being into mountain climbing???? and magnus is like No Thank You. I Will Do Literally Anything Else because yikes the amount of effort and sweat and it’s just generally unpleasant. magnus is far from being sedentary, but also, no. yikes

he’s more into taking long walks in nice places and admiring the view and shit like that and he’s all like “isn’t it great? :)” and alec is like “haha yeah how far are we” because he’s just... goal-oriented and when he’s doing sports he likes to have a clear goal, something to achieve, or to push himself to his limits and all that bullcrap. while magnus likes to do it for the sake of doing it and enjoying himself and getting in contact with his own body & mind & soul and shit. they find some sort of enjoyment in it with the way alec always makes magnus laugh with his grumpiness + inability to truly understand what this whole thing is about + just general himboness, but as a whole, magnus likes to take his walks alone, so he can get that space for himself. and he’s definitely not joining in when alec is doing his weird sportsman training gimmick whatever-thing, either

same with tai-chi! magnus tried to get alec into it (altho somewhat awkwardly since magnus does magical tai chi and alec very much does not have magic) but it just, didn’t work out. one second into it and alec was already making that painfully concentrated face and he’s stiff as a board and it’s the opposite of what it’s supposed to be and magnus breaks down laughing and alec is all offended and they just can’t get past a few seconds and end up giving up. alec is the bitch who sits down to medidate and is immediately like BOY I AM GONNA GET IN TOUCH WITH MY INNER SELF SO FAST AND HARD FUCKING WATCH ME I’M GONNA BE THE BEST MEDIDATOR THIS SIDE OF THE PACIFIC FUCKING OOHMMM BITCH. introspective arts are just not for him

i like to think that alec gets closer to aline, and i can see him and helen hitting it off, too. like seriously guys let alec have friends who aren’t just magnus’ friends (and let magnus have friends that are HIS friends, too)

i know underhill is implied to become his friend but also, like..... he’s so boring i just can’t have any hcs for them as friends daoijsdaiouja i think they have more of a solidarity, nodding when walking past each other in the halls thing than actual friendship you know

obviously there’s alec’s siblings as he will always be the one izzy loves the most and she will always be one of the most important people for him, and even as magnus and izzy totally are friends too, she is still alec’s sister and they make it a point to see each other, just the two of them, at least once a week. izzy always smiles and loops her arm through his and alec’s immediately huffing but he loves it and she knows that he loves it. she was like, his only source of physical contact for so long, and god he really needed it and he loved her for giving it to him even as he pretended it was something he hated. neither of them want to shake that habit, so it stays

but there’s also a particular brand of friendship magnus has with her that alec doesn’t. like when they get all weird about dead bodies or go shopping? alec’s out

magnus does a lot of studying (mostly languages, physics, and chemistry, as well as magic) so he has his own study room (plus the apothecary) that’s a whole damn mess filled with books and notes scattered around and shit and alec is not allowed in because he always wants to organize it and GOD FUCKING DAMN IT IT’S NOT DISORGANIZED I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING’S SUPPOSED TO BE and if alec moves a single pen, magnus Will Know About It

in exchange he always keeps the door closed or spelled so alec doesn’t have to look at it

obviously there’s archery, which is something alec loves to do and practice, especially as he starts to get more into the bureaucratic parts of shadowhunting. he needs his bow and arrow to feel connected to himself and his body and safe, and he also has his own practicing room. magnus can do archery fine, but it’s not really among his interests

magnus of course has his regular meetings with the immortal squad and his breakfasts with raphael :) not that raphael isn’t part of the immortal squad but they also enjoy having a time just for the two of them. they are father and son after all, and besides, they lived together for quite a while, and the dynamics of them versus them + ragnor + cat are different

while magnus loves taking alec with him in his trips and to art galleries and out to eat in great restaurants and shit, they both know it’s something that alec, while very curious to know about, does not appreciate the same way that he does. not more or less, just, differently. if they go to an art gallery, magnus is gonna be looking at every piece and musing and maybe talking about the painters of x and y movement that he knew, and analyzing the technique or whatever. alec is less interested in the paintings themselves and more in the artists, what their life was like, what the period/place they lived in was like, how that shaped their art, you know? like he’s just not a very visual person haha me projecting never so what interests him is more outside of the paintings than inside. so even when they go to these places together, they’re just having completely different experiences? and a lot of the time they end up straying and meeting each other later, where they’ll chat and generally be ridiculous. but the both of them also enjoy going to those on their own or with their friends who Get It, you know? because again just completely different rhythms and interests and stuff

i feel like they both enjoy trashy television, but like, in completely different ways? like magnus loves him a terrible sitcom even if he’ll never admit it, where alec is more into like..... really bad and dramatic mystery shows

they both enjoy watching reality shows though. magnus wasn’t that huge on it before, but with alec? man, that’s a riot. he’ll judge absolutely everyone and make faces and just generally be fucking hilarious

ok i know that i’m talking about things they do together but my goal here is to talk about like... who they are and what their interests are individually, even if they are together, you know? and not like, As An Unit

magnus loves music and recitals and dance shows of all kinds. also, street art! i feel like that’s something him, cat, and maia have in common

speaking of cat; there are always His Cats. like sure they like alec fine but as soon as magnus is home they all immediately flock to him. it’s like alec never existed. goodbye, tall person

tbh i feel like raphael is totally an animals person and soon the dumort kind of turns into like, a sort of animal shelter? like magnus gives him the idea and all the vampires are naturally drawn to the idea of the dumort becoming a place for the strays of the world, especially if it means they get some company.... and maybe warm cuddles. anyway, my point is, magnus loves to visit the dumort and play with the cats and dogs that are there from time to time and he’s so proud of raphael and what he’s doing with the place and i just aaa :’)

i feel like alec would have an interest in technology? like he’d be that bitch who Knows tech (probably started because of his job, but soon he found that he like, actually has an interest in it?) and who cleans his keyboard every day and only gets licensed programmes and takes care of his laptop like those guys who are weird about cars

lmao for some reason i can totally picture him and aline bonding over that?

oh man alec would be into PUZZLES. word puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, the whole grandpa shit. he doesn’t do it often but when he does, he’s just At It. him and madzie can play with jigsaw puzzles for hours and wouldn’t remember to eat. she visits one day and is like I Got A 3D Puzzle and alec is just like neat! and they just sit down and do it until they have to be forced to bed or something. then at like precisely 6AM their eyes snap open like It’s A New Day, Puzzle Time and it just keeps being like this until they’re done

also there’s magnus’ morning routine, of course, especially since he doesn’t really have a schedule, and as sociable as he is he does enjoy some alone time to make himself some breakfast, do some tai chi, maybe read a book or comic, and all that. alec is just snoring the whole time completely passed out when it’s not a work day, tbh

okay that’s all i have actually doasdiad i hope it isn’t too much or disappointing or whatever. also, if anyone else wants to add their own headcanons for alec’s and magnus’ hobbies, feel free to do so :)

#sh #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec #ask #anonymous #long post #q

25 notes · View notes

thewitchandtheassassin · 5 years ago

Text

Love Never Does (Kara Danvers x Reader)

Prompt: Indigo: 25) “Look, I feel things when I’m with you, and it’s new and scary but I think I like it.” With Kara head over heels for the reader

Words: 2576

Warnings: None?

A/N: Yep, I did another color one when I should be doing other things. I’m sorry. But I liked this prompt so here we are.

-X-

Kara’s hands trembled and she nervously wrung them as she waited for you and the rest of the “Superfriends” to show up. Game Night was a big deal and no one ever missed unless things were going horribly wrong so all she had to do right now was wait.

It was unusual for her to be so nervous about something as simple as Game Night, but tonight was special. Well, maybe special. It might be a total disaster. She didn’t really know but she prayed to Rao that everything worked out in her favor because if it blew up in her face, she’d be heartbroken.

Tonight was going to be the night she admitted she had feelings for you.

She was going to wait for the games to end and the others to leave (you were always the last to go, always volunteering to stay and help clean up) and then she was - hopefully - going to sit you down and tell you how she felt. It was a scary thing to do, but she was determined to get it all out in the open.

The first knock on the door had her moving at an inhuman speed. You were the only one who ever knocked, stating every time she said something that you didn’t just want to barge in.

“It’s rude, Kara,” you would laugh. “I get why Alex can do it but I’m not Alex.”

She threw the door wide and you jumped back, startled by her sudden presence. Your fist was still raised to knock but it fell to your side.

“Hi,” Kara greeted shyly, biting her lip as she looked you over.

“Hey,” you smiled, walking up to the superhero and wrapping your arms around her waist. You hugged her briefly and it left Kara wanting to pout. She wished you would have held on longer.

“How was work, Ms. Pulitzer Winner?” you asked, stepping into the threshold of her apartment.

Kara beamed, padding after you. “It was great! I met an alien who runs an animal shelter and donates so much money to other non-kill shelters to help them stay in business. She was so sweet and her animals were so cute. I almost adopted a cat but my landlord would have killed me.”

Your chest warmed at the sight of Kara’s innocent expression and the admiration in her eyes. You adored her and her genuineness. She was too good for Earth but God you were so glad to have met her.

“I’m glad,” you replied honestly, “Maybe you could take me to the shelter some time and show me around? I’ve been wanting to get a pet and my landlord doesn’t care. You could help me pick one out and, of course, you’d be able to come see them whenever.”

Kara paused. Not only did this sound like a date but the idea of sharing a pet with you made her heart pound in her chest. Maybe tonight wouldn’t go badly at all.

“T-that sounds great!” Kara squeaked, her cheeks going crimson.

You didn’t understand Kara’s blush but you found it precious all the same.

“How was things in the lab?” Kara inquired, rubbing her hands over her cheeks to will the blood away.

You were Lena’s lead scientist at L-Corp and honestly, you loved your job. You were in charge of projects and helping the other scientists if they slammed into a mental wall. It was the best job you could think of and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Plus it had brought you so wonderful friends whom you wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Oh, things are going. A couple of the guys are stuck on this formula and I’ve been trying to help them but we’re all a little confused it seems.”

Kara chewed her lip. “The next time you’re free you could bring it by and I might be able to help. I was supposed to go into the science guild on Krypton and your science on Earth isn’t really advanced so maybe I could help you solve your mystery.”

Grinning, you threw your arms around Kara and squeezed. “Thank you! It’s been days and we’re still lost,” you admitted.

Kara relished your arms around her and the way your scent lingered even as you let go. “You’re welcome, (Y/N). You know I’d do anything for you,” she said thoughtlessly, her eyes widening the moment she realized what she said.

Your brow arched at the admittance but before you could say anything, the door flew open and Alex announced herself loudly, Kelly not too far behind shaking her head.

You waved at the newcomers and took the beer from Alex’s arm, snagging a bottle as you set the box on the counter. You cracked it open and sipped, eyeing Kara as she grabbed Alex’s wrist and tugged her towards her bedroom, leaving you and Kelly bewildered.

“Do you know what that was about?” Kelly wondered.

“No idea,” you shrugged.

-X-

“What do you mean you’re telling (Y/N) how you feel? How do you feel?” Alex questioned, confusion shining in her eyes.

“I think I’m in love with her,” Kara whispered, her arms wrapped around her waist.

Alex was stunned. She prided herself on knowing Kara but she had obviously missed something. “You love her?”

Nodding, Kara stared imploringly at Alex. She was silently begging her to understand.

“Come here.” Alex beckoned Kara over and embraced her, rubbing her little sister’s back. “I’m proud of you for admitting it. I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention. (Y/N) is great and you two would make the cutest couple. Well, second to Kelly and me but still,” Alex teased.

With a watery laugh, Kara nodded. “I hope it all works out. I’m so nervous,” she mumbled.

“It will,” Alex said confidently. “(Y/N) would be stupid not to feel the same and we both know she is not stupid.”

Kara heard the door opening and the rest of the group pouring into her apartment. She let go of Alex and wiped the tears that gathered in her eyes away. “Well, everyone’s here.”

“Then let’s go party!” Alex grinned, leading Kara from the bedroom and back into the living room.

Kara found you chatting with Brainy and Nia, discussing Dreamer’s latest heroics. You were always so intrigued by the notion of heroes and knowing two of them just made you wish you were one. It also made you worry - a lot. These heroes were your friends; you wanted them safe.

Lena and James were standing in the corner, their break up still fresh though it was obvious they were trying to work out their problems so that it wouldn’t affect the dynamic of the group. Kelly was nearby, secretly listening to the former couple talk. She couldn’t help it; James was her brother and Lena was her friend.

As Kara joined you, your arm instinctively came around her and you hugged her momentarily before looking at her. “You okay?”

Kara nodded, her palms sweating and heart racing. “Y-Yeah! I’m fine.” She smiled, hoping to hide her nerves. “What do you think we should play first?”

“Not Monopoly,” J’onn piped up from the kitchen, a drink in his hand. “I refuse to play that again with Lena.”

Heading her name, Lena’s head snapped around and she playfully glared at J’onn. “You just don’t want to lose again.”

“You’re right,” J’onn agreed with a shrug.

Snickering silently, you and Nia shared a look.

“I think we should play Scrabble,” Nia suggested.

You nodded. “Definitely.”

In a room full of brilliant people, Scrabble was such an interesting endeavor, considering there were three scientists, a former DEO Director, three journalists, a psychologist and a brainiac from a different time. The board was always full of strange words that would have left most people scratching their heads.

“We should do teams,” you gasped, “Do you know how cool that would be?”

“I call Nia,” Brainy announced immediately, touching his girlfriend’s arm.

“Kelly!” Alex shouted, wildly gesturing for the woman to join her on the chair.

Smirking, you latched onto Kara’s bicep and batted your eyes at her. “Wanna be my partner?”

Swallowing drily, Kara nodded. “Sounds like fun,” she murmured, almost breathless. She wanted to be your partner in more ways than one but this was a good start.

“I call J’onn,” Lena said from across the room, stepping away from her ex. “I believe we could have a spectacular partnership.” She winked at the older man and he chuckled, accepting the offer with a raise of his cup.

James sighed. “I guess I’m on my own,” he muttered irritably, though he couldn’t blame Lena for ditching him.

Kara hurriedly set up the game, ignoring the shake of her hands as she put out the pieces. Kelly, ever observant, noticed but Alex’s quick jerk of the head kept her from asking. You settled on the couch, waiting for your partner to join you and watched the others pair up.

Tonight was going to be awesome.

-X-

No one was surprised that you and Kara won - or that Lena and J’onn came in second. Both of your vocabularies were spectacular and it made sense that you two would conjure such words out of nothingness.

None of you, however, had realized how late it had gotten. The game had lasted way longer than you’d anticipated and now the others were planning to leave. Lena first, since she had to be up so early though James and J’onn weren’t far behind.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Nia asked, staring at the empty chip bowls and drinks scattered about.

“Don’t worry, Nia, we’ve got this,” you assured her, gathering up some of the bottles near you.

Nodding, Nia hugged Kara before dragging Brainy out of the apartment.

Alex lingered by the door, her hand clasped in Kelly’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast, right?”

Kara hesitated and Alex amended her question. “I’ll see you unless something comes up?”

Nodding firmly, Kara waved at her sister before the door slammed closed behind her.

The apartment was silent yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. You and Kara simply worked around each other. You knew Kara could do this by herself in seconds but she never rebuffed your help so you always stayed. You didn’t mind, though. Spending time with Kara was your favorite part of any day.

Once things were finally in place and the trash was tossed, you peered at the door. “I guess I should be going,” you remarked, a little sad to leave this wonderful woman’s presence.

“A-actually, can you stay for a minute? I was hoping we could talk. I mean, if you can’t that’s okay too. You might have plans or something and I didn’t think about that...” Kara would have continued rambling on, but you grabbing her hand and leading her towards the couch stopped her word-vomit.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned by the terror swirling in ocean eyes. “You’ve seemed a little off all night.”

Kara stared at your connected hands, the words dying on her tongue as she reveled in your warmth. She had so much she wanted to say yet she couldn’t get it out. Usually if she was scared or anxious, she wouldn’t shut up but in this moment, she had no idea what to say.

“Kara?” you prompted, slowly pulling your hand away.

Before you could fully inch back, her hand was in yours again, fingers tangled together as she struggled to find the right thing to say. Seeing her in such turmoil, you stayed quiet, your thumb stroking the back of her hand comfortingly as you waited. It was obvious something of importance was bothering her; you just didn’t know what.

Kara inhaled sharply, the dam holding her back finally breaking as words spilled forth. “I think I have feelings for you. Wait,” she shook her head, panic in her voice, “I know that I have feelings for you. You’re my favorite person. When your name shows up on my phone, my heart feels like a hummingbird got trapped and when I see you I feel like I’m flying - and I know what that feels like! You’re my favorite partner at Game Night and when you leave, you take a part of me with you. I think you’re so beautiful and smart and funny and sweet and I don’t want to spend time with anyone as much as I want to spend it with you...” she trailed off, your stunned expression terrifying her.

“Kara...” you didn’t know what to say, completely blown away by her admissions.

“Look, I feel things when I’m with you, and it’s new and scary but I think I like it because I like you. I think I’m in love with you, (Y/N). And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but -”

You threw yourself at the superhero, catching her by surprise. Slamming into her felt like hitting a soft-fleshed, steel-muscled brick wall but you didn’t care. All you wanted was Kara’s lips on yours - now.

A noise of surprise escaped Kara when your mouth crashed into hers, her arms encircling your waist. When she realized what was happening, Kara’s eyes slipped closed and she reciprocated the affection presented eagerly, her lips moving against yours as you poured everything into it.

You didn’t know if you could call this love - not yet - but you cared about Kara in a way that was definitely not platonic. You often fantasized about kissing Kara, late at night when no one was around, but you’d never wanted your affections to get in the way of your friendship so you had tried burying them.

Maybe you should have said something after all.

“I like you too,” you whispered between the brushing of your lips.

Blood rushed to Kara’s head and a dopey grin tugged at the edges of pillow-soft flesh. “Really?”

You nodded, your forehead against hers. “Really really.”

“Oh,” Kara breathed, unable to form a coherent thought.

You giggled, pressing a kiss to Kara’s reddened cheek.

“That’s good,” she nodded, her head bobbing awkwardly.

Smiling, you leaned back, staring into those eyes you could stare into for days. “How about we get breakfast in the morning? Just you and me?”

Kara nodded enthusiastically, already planning an apology text to Alex in her head. She looked so adorable that you couldn’t help kissing her again. And again. And again.

By the fourth parting of your lips, you noticed you’d somehow managed to end up on Kara’s lap, your legs on either side of her on the couch. Kara’s strong hands gripped your waist, her chest heaving despite not really needing that much oxygen. She was staring at you like you held the moon and stars in your hand and it was so empowering - yet so humbling.

“Stay the night?” Kara requested imploringly. “Please, nothing has to happen. I just want to cuddle.”

You smiled. “You’re so cute,” you cooed, undoing her ponytail so that you could card your fingers through her blonde locks. “Cuddles sound good.”

“Yay!” Kara swept you up into her arms, earning a squeal of surprise as your legs wrapped around her torso and your hands flew up to her neck.

Love was a big word - one you couldn’t say yet - but it wouldn’t take long.

Love never does.

#supergirl #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagine #kara danvers #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers x reader #reader #reader insert #reader imagine

463 notes · View notes

spaceyantique · 5 years ago

Text

five’s a crowd [beatles x reader] part six

chapter summary: It’s game night with your bug boys, and it goes about how you would expect. John is chaotic, Paul does very little to contain that energy. Ringo confirms that he IS, in fact, an old man, and you and George spend the evening sharing an armchair.

warnings: there is drinking and some (offscreen) drug use. we don’t condone drugs! please be safe!

these chapters certainly are getting longer, yeet. let @kalypsichor and i know what you think and if there’s anything you want to see!

masterlist

one | two | three | four | five

What can you say? Between his sweet personality and those bluer-than-blue eyes, Ringo always gets his way. You’d tried as best you could to avoid any more pure, unadulterated John-related chaos, but Paul had teamed up with Ringo for an unbeatable duo of puppy-dog eyes. They’d cornered you in the kitchen one day until you finally relented, damn them.

So, that Saturday night, you’re all squished around the table in the living room as Ringo slams down a comically large board game box. From the way his eyes light up as he looks at it, you’d think it would be glowing gold and sparkling, Cave of Wonders-style.

“Fuck’s this about?” John’s brow furrows at the name on the box. He’s already gone through half his first drink of the night: a vodka tonic with more vodka than most people would go for. Paul’s hanging over his shoulder with a beer, also a bit tipsy.

“Clue! It’s my favorite game of all time!” Ringo’s excitement is endearing and sunshine-yellow, as always.

“Thought we were playin’ Monopoly.”

“We’re trying to mend friendships, John.” Ringo fixes him with a false-stern look.

“Yeah, John, Monopoly is a game that only ends in violence. ‘Sides, I actually like Clue,” you say.

“A board game nerd too. Who knew?” George smirks. He’s got a beer in his hand as well. Though you’re overall not thrilled to be forced to participate in another night of John Lennon ruining the apartment, you can certainly say that a pro is that you’re next to George. You’re sharing the overstuffed armchair because John and Paul have claimed the couch (“for canoodling,” Ringo accused), and you can feel the warmth of George’s thigh even through your jeans. How is this boy so warm?

For a second, you catch yourself thinking of the last board game night, which ended with you and George next to each other not so unlike tonight. Unfortunately, it had been in a dark closet during a drunken game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, and you’d been too awkward even with the alcohol to try anything.

Thankfully, you’re brought back to reality by Ringo unfurling the instructions across the table. They’re nearly too large for him to fully open with his arms extended and you have a sudden vision of him as Clark Griswold from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

“Right!” Ringo declares, now unfolding the game board. “Everyone pick a character. There’s six, so everyone gets their own, no teams.”

“Red!” John lunges across the table for the red, but misses slightly in doing so and scatters the other pieces across the board. He’s met with a chorus of indignant cries and Paul smacking his bicep. “Sorry! Got to have me color!”

“Right then, John’s Miss Scarlett.”

John dramatically reclines on the sofa with girlish flair.

“Paul! Paint me like one of your French girls!” Paul rolls his eyes, muttering something about the importance of nude modeling to the art world and how John would take advantage of it.

George quietly takes the green piece and places it on his starting square, then turns to you.

“It matches my socks,” he says with a smile. Your heart flutters as you see that he’s wearing said fuzzy green socks right now. Don’t blush, please don’t blush, for God’s sake.

Instead, you grab the nearest piece to you (blue) and place it on your spot.

“I’ll be Miss Peacock.”

Ringo picks Colonel Mustard and George and John goad Paul into being Professor Plum (“Professor Paul! It fits, you’ve bloody GOT to!”). As Ringo deals the cards, Paul whispers something to John and heads to the kitchen, claiming he’s getting a drink. He does come back with a six-pack of hard cider, but he also places a phone down in the center of the board, on top of the Top-Secret envelope with the winning cards.

“Is that where my phone was? I’ve been looking all day for it,” George asks as you crack open your can of cider.

“It’s the prize,” John says, his mouth curling into that wicked, Grinch-like smirk once again. As stupidly smug as he is, you’re a bit drunk and it’s hard to keep a grin off your face. “Whoever wins gets to decide who gets the phone.”

“It’s my phone, though. I bought it, I paid for it.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Does too!”

“Well, now it’s a part of the game! We play for it.”

George, rolling his eyes, goes to reach for the phone, but a hellish shriek from John and Paul’s protest stops him.

“Thou shalt honor the game!” Paul cries.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Bad things!” Paul’s grinning widely now and you’re biting your lips to keep from smiling. “Like in Jumanji!”

“Yes, we get sucked into a jungle world for years and years until someone finishes a board game that we left in the attic and releases us and we have to fight all the animals they unleash too.” Ringo’s smiling now too, and George reluctantly agrees to play for his phone. “Then we’d best start now! Usual rules, plus each time you move, you drink.”

“Don’t worry,” you whisper to George, feeling a bit bold from the warmth of the alcohol already. “I’m pretty good at this game. I’ll win it back for you.”

The smile he gives you increases that warmth in your body tenfold.

***

It turns out you are not, in fact, pretty good at Clue. It has a lot to do with your cards, and thanks to Paul’s subpar shuffling skills, you have a shit hand. Several turns in, and you’re not at all close to solving the murder of Dr. Black. Your lack of strategy also may have something to do with the fact that you’re onto your second drink (rum and Coke but with diet Pepsi because it’s cheaper). However, you’re relatively confident in winning, as John both does not know the rules and doesn’t currently have the capacity to learn them.

“Then... then I’ll use that portal. The secret passage,” John slurs, and Ringo shakes his head adamantly.

“No, you can’t, John. The passage is in the greenhouse. You’re not in the greenhouse.”

“Well then, where am I?” Ringo points at John’s red piece in the ballroom.

“How the hell did I get over there?!”

“Honestly, John, are you high as well as drunk?” You ask with a smile. He takes a liberal slug of his vodka tonic before responding in a deadpan: “This is my personality.” Behind him, Paul mouths “a bit high,” and you giggle.

“Oi, you’re one to talk!” John shoves Paul with his shoulder, still with that easy smile on his face.

“Look, y’know, the people have right to know, it’s-”

“The people! The people? What fucking people?”

“What’s all this?” Ringo looks up from his expertly technical dice roll.

“They’re drunk,” George laughs.

“Can we get on with it, lovebirds?” You shift in your seat and are suddenly reminded of being pressed against George’s whole side. You can practically feel him breathing.

“Yeah, some of us are trying to win here. The stakes are high,” George grins. “So if you two could pull your heads out of each other’s arses-”

There’s a chorus of laughter around the table, and John drops his cards with a hilariously restrained “oh shit.”

With a good deal of direction from Ringo (“‘S like herding cats, the lot of you!”), gameplay continues.

“Alright… John, do you have… the rope?” Ringo bites his lip, glancing over his cards and his scratch sheet of paper. John gasps.

“What? How’d you know that?” He cries, and you laugh, leaning towards George a bit more without thinking. You let your head fall onto his shoulder and suddenly you’re back in that darkened closet again. You’d sat just like this on the floor, but with your knees curled up against your chest. Your head was on his shoulder, and his hand was so close to yours-

George stiffens a bit, and as if you’d been shocked, you sit straight up. You make eye contact with Paul accidentally, and for a second, that infamous pout curls into a smirk. You hear an echo of his voice in your head. I’ll get the truth out of you one of these days, y’know. Your eyes fall to Geo’s phone lying on the board, and you suddenly realize that it was Paul who’d gotten it from the kitchen, not John.

“Conspiracy!” John shouts suddenly, both echoing your thoughts and shaking you out of them.

“It’s not a fucking conspiracy, John, you guess, it’s how you play-” George argues.

“Ringo must be cheating!”

“How do you not know how the game works?” Paul teases, and John scrunches up his nose at him.

“Well, I was doing just fine until you-”

“Don’t blame me for your incompetence-”

“Incompetence!?” John practically shrieks, and Ringo snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Off with his head!” George says, and pantomimes cutting his own head off. He lets his ‘severed’ head loll back onto the armchair’s cushioned back, exposing his neck. He’s got such a lovely neck, more slender than one might expect. It’s long and the tendons and muscles are defined, and his collarbones peek out just a bit over the neckline of his shirt. He’s been wearing his hair curly for the past several days, and it goes in waves past his ears, ending in a little flick just below his earlobe. The sun has set by now, and in the lamplight, his skin looks like gold. Your eyes travel back up his hair, and you suddenly notice-- oh, fuck, he’s looking at you.

You snap your head back to the game so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. John and Paul are still arguing, and you just barely catch Ringo sneaking a peek at John’s cards while his guard is down.

“Hey! Hey… do you wanna fight?” Paul says, and leans close to John’s face.

“... no.” John’s tone is sheepish but he’s smiling widely.

“Good.” Paul leans a touch closer. You swear John almost stops breathing.

Your eyebrows nearly hit your hairline as George snickers.

“God, get a room,” Ringo sighs, and John leaps up from the couch, Paul not far behind.

“Gents, fair lady, I’ve forgotten something in my room, and I’ve got to… get it.” With that, John stumbles down the hall towards his and Paul’s bedroom.

“I’m… helping him.” Paul rushes out too.

“Then there were three,” George says after a beat of silence.

“Two,” Ringo says, standing and stretching. “S’pose that’s the end of it, so I’m going to put my headphones on as quickly as possible.” He bids you and George goodnight and then heads to their shared room, taking the fleece blanket from the couch with him.

“Smart move,” you say. “Poor Freddie upstairs said his bedroom’s just above John and Paul’s. He’s about to get a free show.”

“With surround sound,” George says, and you snort. Reluctantly, you force yourself to get up, detaching from George’s side and busying yourself with picking up the cups, cans, and bottles littering the various surfaces in the living room. As you release your armful into the kitchen sink, George’s sudden shout from the living room startles you.

“You idiot bastard! That’s what this was about?” You turn to see George still standing in the living room, hunched over his phone and calling down the hall to John and Paul’s room.

“You put fucking TINDER on my phone?!”

#five's a crowd #beatles x reader #george x reader #george harrison x reader #beatles fic #crack fic #paul #george #ringo #john #BOARD GAME MADNESS

124 notes · View notes

lideria · 5 years ago

Text

Second Nature. | Doyoung

Request: Ahah, this was not a request I just really like to make myself suffer sometimes. This is about a childhood best friend who returns after a long time.

Author’s Note: I have kind of had this storyline already and whenever I looked at Doyoung I thought he would fit into it so well. This is a scenario rather than an imagine, so it might not be fully relatable. Plus, I’m sorry if this hurts you.

Warnings: THIS IS SAD, not proofread bc I suck at it, very downbeat pov, mentions of alcohol consumption/intoxication, mentions of divorce, mentions of injury, lots of emphasis on loneliness, plus there is a dog in this story so if you’re scared of doggies/you’re a cat person, I apologize. English is my second language so there might be errors! Let me know if there is more please!

Word Count: 11664 too many words for my own good really

Genre: ANGST, fluff, childhoodfriends!au, bestfriends!au, friendstolovers!au (???), two surprise AUs that I cannot say for the sake of the story.

I hope you all enjoy! If that’s even possible! Because I felt emotionally drained just by writing it!

“Catch me if you can!”

You let out a loud laugh as you start sprinting at full speed. Your friend and neighbor Doyoung lets out a shriek before picking up his pace, both of you running through and inevitably, over the green grass of your shared garden that is scattered with white and yellow flowers all around. Parents look at your way as they take a sip of their coffee, smiling under the mug. “Don’t sweat too much, it gets chilly in the evening!” His mother shouts when the two of you run close by them. One of you answers okay, but you both cannot make out who it is because the caution only falls on deaf ears.

He catches you when you are running close to the fence, catching you by your shoulders and accidentally pulling your hair. “Ow!” He hisses along with you as you turn back. You are very clearly pissed of, which only alarms him a little further. “Doyoung! I told you to be careful with my hair— it’s longer than yours.”

“I didn’t do it intentionally! I’m sorry. You can pinch my arm so we’re even.” He sticks his arm out, his blue and grey bracelet hanging off loosely from his wrist. “No, but I want a cookie.”

He audibly gasps. “I only have 3 left!”

When you shrug, he sighs and heads inside their vacation home. It takes him a few minutes to go to the front of the house where their kitchen is and come back and by the time he’s back, he finds you sitting at the bottom of the fence. Your face brightens up when you see him and his mother’s cookies, inarguably the best dessert to come after your mother’s. He sits next to you and hands the treasure. You still notice the frown on his face. And you hate seeing him upset.

So, you break the cookie in half— an imperfect half. You get the smaller piece to yourself and hold out the bigger half for Doyoung to take. He smiles the Doyoung smile and takes it before stuffing it in his mouth.

It was a bright, sunny day. You had been at the beach ever since the morning, now late in the afternoon, with Doyoung and his family and yours. Having a sandwich for breakfast and a picnic for lunch and snacks, swimming every other second in between. Both Doyoung and you loved swimming in the aqua blue waters that would occasionally change colors to a deeper blue. More specifically jumping from the pier in what you claimed to be “athletic poses” that were, in reality, sad yet funny excuses for superhero jumps.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, honey, but I think Doyoung had that one.” Your father says when both of you climb up to the pier after your 7th jump, for the votes of your parents on who jumped better. “Yeah, I can’t jump quite as high. It’s because he plays volleyball,” Doyoung snickers beside you with good intentions, but you still feel a little defeated. “It’s okay, you dive better than me.”

“That’s true, you suck at diving.” The realization of having said a bad word hits you both sooner than ever, and you both cover your mouths in surprise. He is smiling under his hand. You can tell because his eyes are squinting. His parents start laughing and Doyoung too lets go of the laughter he has been holding in. But of course, your parents do not look all that amused. “That’s another month before you get a pet.”

You switch to protest mode in an instant. “But it slipped from my mouth, I didn’t mean it!”

“Just because it slipped doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Your mother claims calmly, and you jump a little with frustration. “But—“

“Whining won’t get you closer to getting one.” Your father sternly adds. You stop immediately, rightfully kind of really upset. Everyone is silent until Doyoung pulls a little on your arm. You know what he means, so you let him drag you back towards the pier. Frustration stings at your eyes and Doyoung can sense it, so he nudges you a little. “Come on, don’t be sad. I’m sure a month will fly by.”

He does not receive any response, even though you argued there’s still at least a year internally. He kind of knew he would not be getting a response, because that is what you act like when you are upset. Seeing as you were, he crossed off the possibility of jumping off the pier with you for the time being. Instead he sat down at the end, dangling his legs, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. You follow his actions.

“Doyoung?” Your voice sounds like you were frowning. “Hm?” He does not look at you, because he does not like seeing people upset. “How is middle school? Is it fun?”

You were just going to be starting middle school, whereas he was going to begin his second year. As always he wanted to tell you the truth. Considering your mood, though, that might have not been the best idea. So he did not. “It is! Plenty of good friends,” Which was not necessarily a lie, but it definitely was not how it went for a lot of people. He feared you would be one of them, as you had a tendency to make friends with everyone and that was not how socializing went in middle school. But for all he knew, everything could be different and you could have an amazing middle school experience. “After school activities are really fun as well.” That definitely was not a lie. Doyoung loved volleyball. “I can’t wait to go back.”

“I’ll swim. That makes me happy.” And it must for real, because he hears the excitement in your voice.

He grins. “Then go for it.”

With that, Doyoung pushes you off the edge. Although surprised, you suspected he would do that subconsciously as he had a habit of pushing people into the water when they have just dried off to entertain himself— a rather evil habit that everyone hates. For payback you splash him with water. He splashes you back as if it would do anything, and you splash him again while calling him another bad word that your parents luckily would not be able to hear and soon enough, it turns into a splash fight.

It was the first day of Doyoung and his family’s arrival that year. You woke up feeling excited, because your best friend was finally here after a whole 5 days of waiting after your own arrival to the summer house. So you ran out to the garden right after breakfast, more than ready to see your friend.

Instead, you were not ready to see him all that much. At least not with his arm in a cast.

You go up to hug him as usual, and he mutters a low, disappointed “Hi.” In return, you give him a much brighter greeting in hopes of bringing his mood up. It does not work.

The day goes on. Both your families and you have a shared lunch, catching up on the previous 9 months they had not seen each other. Their moods are much higher than Doyoung’s and yours. His mood had made you inevitably moody as well. He was not up to play, he was not up to go to the beach, he was not up to go to the grove… It felt like he did not want to do anything. But it was summer. Not the time to be sulking around, even if his arm was in a cast.

Then came an idea.

There was a patch of young olive trees planted near your houses. They were only around the same height as you were, though it varied from tree to tree. You loved how the trees looked when they were passing through the road in between the patches a few days ago. So you only suspected Doyoung would like seeing them as well.

You run up to the parents and ask them if you could take him there. They agree without much hesitation, only warning you to make sure to stay off the road and to wear proper shoes to protect from the bugs and thorns.

Taking Doyoung there was a struggle. Making him agree to go was harder, but he also kept complaining how hot the weather was (as if it had never been that hot before) and how he was too tired (which he should not have been, because you knew he tended to sleep on car rides, and it was an overnight drive for them to get here).

But the second you arrive at the patch, something changes.

He smiles in awe at seeing just how small the trees are and how they shine under the sunlight. You both sit under one of the trees, both of your heads touching some leaves, and it leaves a funny feeling on your heads. You both giggle for quite some time until it just starts feeling nice.

“What happened to your arm?” The question was impossible to hold back, and you thought talking about it would make him feel better. The tone in his voice makes you not so confident about that. “I was dipping to hit the ball, and the arm I wasn’t using— I wasn’t paying attention to it. It twisted and snapped when I landed on it, and now I don’t know if I can play volleyball anymore.” Doyoung lets a sigh out then and it is full of feelings you cannot make out the heavinesses of, because you lacked the experience.

You hiss with attempted empathy. “What are you gonna do instead?”

He sighs again but you can make the feeling behind it out this time, it is annoyance. “My music teacher wrote my name down for a conservatoire, and both mom and dad really wants me to go. Even my brother wants me to go. Weird.”

“Singing sounds nice.” But Doyoung does not look too keen on the idea. In spite of it you smile, hopeful. “If he’s saying you should go, then you have to sing for me sometime.”

He chuckles at that and looks at you as if you suggested something out-of-worldly crazy. “Yeah. Sure. Don’t depend on it.” Then he looks down and whines upon seeing his arm and the sun hitting it— the black cover on his cast. “Ugh, it’s so hot and itchy. I can’t even swim this summer and it’s only the start,” His mouth twitches and wobbles a bit the moment he is done complaining, and you frown, even though the fact that he only realized his arm was making him feel uncomfortable when he looked at it still makes you want to laugh a little. “I’m sorry.”

Doyoung throws you the crazy look again. “I was the idiot, why would you be sorry?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice before he chuckles breathily, in what might be disbelief. You pull on his blue and grey bracelet. The beads looked okay, but the strings were a bit worn off. “We’re best friends?” You suggest, to ring a bell more than anything.

He nods just once, agreeing, examining his bracelet when he notices your gaze on it. “We should really change the strings. Yours look terrible too.”

You look down at your bracelet, green and red like a watermelon as 8-year-old Doyoung had said, and mumble. “Yeah, we really should.”

The idea comes that very second. You just seemed to beam with ideas today. “We can put the beads in your pocket and tie the strings onto the branch. A friendship tree, yes?”

He looks up and smiles. “Okay. I guess to keep in peace as well.”

You had to help him every step of the way because he lacked an arm and through the experience you come to learn that an arm is a very serious lack of a thing. Through the summer he could not do much functioning until they had to leave to get his cast off around a month and a half later, and in turn you chose not to swim when he was at the beach reading books while accompanying his parents and yours. Instead you chatted with him and put handfuls of sand in his t-shirt (being careful not to get any in his cast, of course, partly for your own safety as well) every time he told you to just go and swim, until he was too pissed off at you.

And you stayed with him and offered a piece of your mother’s tiramisu as he cried for the first time ever since the first year you met, after he got the news that his arm was in too fragile of a condition to play volleyball again. Because that was all you could do.

A chilly night, sitting on top of one of the low branches of a random tree close to your shared backyard. It would be scary if you couldn’t see the lights coming off from your houses. Or if birds were not still chirping through the calm silence. But as you sat there, blueberry muffins in your hands, it was almost comfortable. If not for the bumpy bark you had been sitting on, of course.

It was the last days of summer. More and more people were leaving, closing off their summer houses for the duration of off-season. Doyoung and his family would be leaving tomorrow, whereas you and your family would stay for just a few days longer simply because everybody loved this place with its variety of trees and its beach.

“Are you excited you’ll get to compete this year?” Doyoung asks suddenly. You nod immediately and with eager. “I’m gonna win gold.” The sheer ambition in your claim makes Doyoung chuckle, which annoys you a little. He had started doing that a lot this summer, laughing at the stuff you would claim. You look at him as if to ask why he laughed even though you know he was going through the weird phase and lucky for him, he gets the signal. Then he shrugs. “I don’t know. Winning seems important for everyone and it’s silly. Just enjoy what you’re do—“

His voice cracks. “—ing.”

You try your best not to laugh, honestly. But he breaks first, so it is only fair that you start laughing too. His voice had been doing that for almost half of this summer, which was apparently a sign of growing up.

Puberty, being a preteen and all that. You had your fair share of experiences. It was funnier when it was not happening to you.

You mock his voice when you give him an answer. “I’ll just enjoy what I’m doing!” His eyes widen a little at that and he turns a little further towards you in surprise. “Hey, that sounds like how I sound in my head!”

Both of you lose it at the silliness of the sentence, it hurts your stomach after a while. It also takes a lot of effort to not slip from the branch and fall down onto the ground. What cuts through your laugh sooner than expected was his mother calling him back, shouting quite loudly that they would be leaving before sunrise and that he needed his sleep so he should better come back before she locks the door and goes to sleep.

The way down is faster and easier than the way up had been. Doyoung stuffs the remainder of his blueberry muffin in his mouth before clapping his hands together a couple of times to clean them of crumbs. He turns to tell you that the two of you better hurry up, but the way your face looks stops him. “I’m gonna miss you,” These exact words would always leave your mouths when it was someone’s time to leave this place and the reality of not being able to see each other for another 9 months set in.

Doyoung visibly relaxes, knowing nothing was wrong. “I’m gonna miss you too. But it’s okay, it’s just 9 months— we always wait that much. Plus,” He smiles widely. “You’ll finally have a pet next summer.”

“And you’ll sing.” He shakes his head immediately. “Please?” You press your chances because it was annoying what he was doing to you. He had never played volleyball with you when he used to play (even though it was rightfully so, as you were terrible at it) and now that he was actually really good at singing (proof being that he had taken part in several shows his conservatoire organized) he would deny you the chance to hear. You were best friends. That basically gives you the right to hear his singing.

Something changes in him, as his eyes widen slightly. “You know what? If you actually manage to get a pet, I will. Deal?” You know he thinks you cannot manage to do it. But you can. So you take it.

“Deal.”

Doyoung and his family do not come next summer.

Or, rather, for several next summers.

You ask your mother the first summer he is not there, your arms on the counter and your head resting on top as you watched her cook. “Mom, Doyoung’s not coming?”

She was washing off some produce from your garden to make a salad before they went bad when you hit her with the question. You do not get an answer, and she does not slow down, so you ask again after a few seconds when she takes out a knife and the chopping board. “Oh, his father has a different work schedule now,” She answers, slicing the cucumber. “They can only use the house on spring breaks.”

Heartbroken, you turn back around to go back into the living room to play with your puppy along with your father.

On the third summer, you hear various tumbling sounds coming from outside and the faint voices of your parents through the glass. The sun is barely up, the sky a pretty pink. You hear voices of a couple of old people. Maybe more, but you cannot make it out, as sleep was fighting with you to rest just a bit longer.

There is darkness for a while. Second time you wake up the sky looks more peachy with hues of yellow. The tumbling sounds have left their place to the sound of slamming metal doors and old engines that you think can only belong to trucks, but the noise is okay, because within less than five minutes the vehicles leave.

You ask about it at breakfast. Your father takes your hand in his as he drops his cutlery, and tells you he is sorry, before revealing that Doyoung and his parents had sold the summer house. Betrayal (lighthearted betrayal which only has place in your heart during your teenage years) slowly washes over you and you stand up abruptly before mumbling something about finishing your breakfast in your room. With unshed tears in your eyes, you gather your plate and leave.

Both of your parents’ sighs are audible when you are climbing up the stairs.

By the fourth year, their house already starts to get the old, rustic, sultry look any abandoned house would get.

You grow every year, that much is sure. Your puppy does so at a much faster rate as well. Your parents get deeper wrinkles on their face. Spots on their hands. The trees get taller, thicker and older. The summer house starts smelling of nostalgia rather than just of sea salt and rarely used furniture. The beach gets even emptier than how it used to be. The grove gets lonelier and scarier. The produce of your garden loses its taste at some point. You slowly start to abandon the idea of going out to the backyard, except for the times you went out with your dog. Jumping off the pier gradually gets less fun than it once was. Your swimming partner has four legs instead of just two.

When you get your first phone, excitement washes over you with hope as company. You ask your mother if you can get Doyoung’s phone number if he has one, but she says that they have lost touch with his parents and that they do not speak to each other anymore.

Excitement leaves your body, and your smile falls.

Some couples of other years pass as time has no intention of stopping, and on one of them your father moves out. With one less person in your summer house, the emptiness grows bigger. With one less person in your summer house, the environment loses its golden glow. The leaves, even under the bright sunlight, only look a sad variety of greens. Rooms feel so much bigger. Memories start off as sweet remembrances, but they surely turn into hauntings when every single thing reminds you of one.

After your father leaves, the only person you have left in your summer house is your mother. The only things you have left is cooking and baking with her, walking around aimlessly, and sitting in the quiet at the pier with your only four-legged companion.

You slowly realize that childhood is gone. Never to come back. Growing up turns out to be loss of great people and great things, and it slowly starts to make sense why your parents kept telling you growing up and being a grown person is not as exciting as you were making them out to be when you were younger.

Summer loses its magic and grows weary. Yet, despite it all, the summer house remains as your safe space.

Because there is only the struggle of loneliness, unlike what the longer part of the years throw at you.

Yet loneliness does not prove to be much easier.

Growing up and going to college, moving out of the house took a toll on your relationship with your mother. It was not noticeable until the first time you came back for the summer break, when it started to seem like you ran out of things to talk about easily. Movie nights grew more frequent. Cooking and baking still were the fun things to do, at least.

It was not that you could not get along with her, or you had too many fights. Being around her was still comfortable. It was just that your mother could never be your friend, let alone your best friend. There were a fair amount of things you would not talk about with her. Even though she must know this, she would try to fill the gap Doyoung had left.

It was not possible. You suspected it never would be. Because he felt like second nature to you and he was gone. How could anyone replace second nature?

Her trying to fill the gap your father had left was one thing. The other was not all the same.

Summers got quiet and lonely after Doyoung left, yes. More so after your father left. But as you kept growing up and sharing less with your mother, the dimension of your loneliness shifted. It started feeling more like isolation.

And it was then, that you felt like true happiness started shifting away from you.

Your favorite time to hang out at the pier is around sunset hours.

The beach was the emptiest around that time and the night, because the general population was old and dinner preparation would keep them from going out from late afternoon and onwards. After sunset— the usual dinner time for most of the neighbors— porch lights would get turned on immediately. And when dark blue paints over the sky while the moon slowly comes out, the sounds of old neighbors visiting each other and chatting, sometimes playing games on their porch and laughing along would travel to the wooden pier where you would be laying down, listening to the wavering sea. It had quickly grown to be one of your fondest things about the summer.

That afternoon is no different. It is almost the golden hour on a hot day, and your dog is absolutely spent after a long walk so you both deserve to get a breather, really.

You move towards the end of the pier and sit down, alerting your dog gently to do the same. Her tail thumps repeatedly against the boards as she sits down looking at your hand. You cannot help but smile at her cuteness. Opening up the water bottle you had brought along, you place your palm under it curled like a bowl. Letting the water flow down carefully, you let her drink the water from your palm.

She ends up drinking most of the water in the bottle but still sweats afterwards. Happy and content despite sweating, she looks around and at the water, watching the few fishes that were swimming towards the seaweed bunched around the pier’s legs, wagging her tail in curiosity. You look at the water as well, but your mind is elsewhere. Wondering about your father.

He had promised you to come and visit before summer ended and here you were. Halfway through the summer— almost more than halfway.

Something in you started wondering if he would keep his promise a while ago. The hope that held onto the promise started dimming as the days went on.

You let a huff out in an effort to lighten the tightness in your chest. It works ever so slightly, and your companion turns her head to you. She has always had a talent in understanding when you were upset— maybe an instinct, and this time was no exception. She lies down next to you and nags at your hand. Giving in was too easy when it was her. You start petting her and letting her lick your hand and arm.

Perhaps it is magic, because her efforts of cheering you up works without any exceptions. Not giggling is impossible.

Her and you lay down, playing around for a while as her attempts of licking your face gets more frequent and although you adore her, you do not want to be licked on your face. It turns into a wrestle rather quickly. Her paws press on your stomach sometimes which is far from a pleasing experience and it is when she really just makes you nauseous that you force her down to a hug. It takes too much time huffing and puffing and annoyed-sneezing for her to calm down and stop wagging her tail but she stops eventually.

Literally seconds later there is the slightest creak on the boards and she picks her head up. The tail starts wagging and thumping again. You ignore it, wanting to cherish the moment.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for a certain someone, can you help?”

The familiarity of the upbeat voice pulls a weak string at your heart automatically. The string sends waves of electric all throughout your body and it surprises you how much it can burn still, after years of no contact, and it is only a familiarity.

Breathing deeply, you answer. “Unless you’re looking for your grandparents, I don’t think so.” The creaks get louder, nearer. Then they stop. The wagging tail is way too excited for its own good as the thumps get faster and harsher, and she starts getting excited again, trying to look at and smell whoever it is that stands near you.

A face hovers far above yours with a smile. “I don’t think I’m looking for my grandparents.”

Your breath hitches and you let your companion loose without meaning to. She wastes no time in jumping up and become acquainted with the intruder.

Except he is not. He is not an intruder. He is a familiar face. Hell, he is more than a familiar face. He is second nature.

And just one glance at his not changed but grown face takes all the betrayal, the disappointment, the feeling of having fallen out of place away. And it takes everything in you to not start crying on the spot. Instead you smile big, spring up onto your feet and throw your arms around his middle to hold him close, so close that he does not have the opportunity to leave, not now. His shoulder welcomes your face to nuzzle itself in and you take the advantage fully— shocked, even though it was an obvious fact, that he had grown so much. His arms find their places around your back comfortably. Hugging felt natural and safe but still weird to some extent, because it was not like how it was 8 years ago.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” Your voice still shakes even though you keep the tears inside. He places his chin on top of your head as you nuzzle closer and lets out a breath himself. “I think I do.”

After many minutes of hugging and letting the emotions out in the form of squeezes and nuzzles, both of you sit down where you were stationed before Doyoung appeared. One of his hands keep petting your four-legged best friend while he keeps his mouth occupied, talking to you to catch up in any way.

You could not stop looking at him. Taking it all in. Just how taller he had gotten— though not a giant like he had sometimes hoped he would turn out as, but you do not tell him that— and how sharper his facial features had gotten. Yet it comforted you how he had not changed. You could go back in time and look at him, and compare the two looks you had seen, and you could easily tell that this person in front of you was Doyoung.

His jet black hair, even, had not changed much at all. It was still in his face in some way. It was as if he had just physically grown up, and nothing had changed other than him growing taller and his features setting in place.

That comforted you, although you were not sure why.

Curiosity took over you as you kept chatting in the comfortable silence. There was so much to learn about him. It almost felt like you were meeting with a new person. Almost.

“Where are you even staying?” The question feels kind of uncomfortably intimate for you to ask after so much time, but you do not want to lose anything that you had with him. So it would only make sense for you to act as if it is still there. He does not seem to mind the question too much as the answer comes sooner than you would expect, without the awaited stare. “I’m crashing at a friend’s couch. He lives near here.”

“Who lives here all year?” You mumble in disbelief. But you trust him in telling the truth. He smiles back, looking around as if to check the environment. “Everything looks the same. This place aged well,” His gaze shifts back to you, warm and gentle. “I can’t say the same about you, though.”

There is nothing harsh about his words, but you cannot help but feel taken aback. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, not even bothered about your dog sweating over his leg as he keeps petting her. “A lot of things feel different about you. You look different too.”

“Is that to say I haven’t aged well?” You joke, making light of the situation. It would be a lie if you did not admit that his words did not hurt you in the slightest. Even though you knew that they held some truth value. He huffs, letting his head fall to the side, annoyed. Like the olden days. It makes you too happy to see it. “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. There is just, something off about you, it hits you in the face.” He stops for a second to look at you properly again. You do not look offended, so he continues. “But I don’t think everyone would be able to notice it enough to make a deal about it, you know?”

It is your turn to shrug with one shoulder, and click your tongue a little, shaking your head as if this whole thing did not bother you. “Mm, I grew up,” He throws a look as if to say I know, but you keep on talking. “And I changed. Nothing too crazy.”

“You’re sweeping it under the rug, but I’m gonna let that go this once.” He says as your dog’s attention span on him expires, and she goes to lay down at the corner of the pier, a spot where she can have her own space and a rather okay view of the fish living down there. “This once?” You ask, unable to stop the hope from surfacing.

“Well,” Doyoung turns his body to face yours. He sits criss cross. “I’ll be around until the end of summer. I just assumed we can keep seeing each other?”

A laugh breaks through years of quiet summers as your heart flutters. “Of course, yeah.” Doyoung smiles back his smile, his one of a kind smile, and you have to pinch yourself to know this is not a dream.

It is not, and night had never come faster in years.

Getting to know your best friend for the second time was a weird experience. You had to ask him what he was studying since he was going to begin his senior year of university, to which he answers musical theatre. Upon that you smile a witty smile, pointing at your companion who picks her head up after she realizes she was being pointed at, and tell him that you had gotten a pet so he would have to sing to keep his promise.

He laughs and answers okay. But not now.

Within minutes, he updates you on almost everything. He tells you stories of this band he was part of where he formed his friend group, and how he had been picked up as the male lead for Tick, Tick… Boom! at the end of his sophomore year so he actually had to learn how to dance. Doyoung claims to not having been the greatest in it, so you ask with all the curiosity in your heart if he managed to get a date out of the musical. You get an answer of an overly confident of course, which tells you more than you need. Despite not having heard his singing, or having seen him dance, you tell him that he must have been amazing at it. When the argument comes you simply shut him up with the fact that he was picked as the lead.

Doyoung mentions not seeing his family for that summer because of the fact that school had ended only fairly recently, and because he could not not see this place anymore. He adds that he never even mentioned coming here to his family to eliminate any chances of them insisting he would go see them, and that he would really appreciate if you kept his presence here a secret from your parents as well. You agree to it, partly because he is still someone you could do anything for, and partly because the selfish feeling of wanting him to yourself only for a while.

The mood kind of goes down when he asks “So, uh, what was life like after I left?”

The question makes the smile fall off your face involuntarily for just a second before you push through and fight it off, smiling once again. “High school was hard, first of all.”

One of his eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh yeah? What was it like?”

Without even stopping to think, you answer truthfully. “Like you ate shit, and tried to throw up the shit you ate, but it took you 4 years to do so.” There is a wince of disgust before he answers. “Ew. That sounds miserable.”

“Was in fact miserable.” You admit. The shits-and-giggles attitude breaks faster than you intend to. “My parents got divorced in junior year, and my father had to move out, so that was a big contribution.”

Doyoung does not look surprised, but upset. He looks down at his hands before looking back up at you. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Again, a shrug, as your lips waver. “It’s whatever.”

Silence. Uncomfortable silence maybe for the first time ever since you met him.

So you break it. “You know what? This is a reunion, and I really don’t wanna talk about how a break up that’s not my own affected me. There are lots of happier things to talk about,”

The two of you keep talking with each other for hours and hours on end. You are sure he misses the dinner at some point unlike you who were used to having early dinners. Naturally you have to take a break every once in a while to help your dog do her business, but you hold your own business inside to have all the time you can with him. It still felt as if he would leave again and never come back.

But at some point he has to leave, so you let him go. Not without a “Let’s exchange numbers?” though.

However, the answer you get is not all that satisfactory. “Sorry, I can’t. I’ve a foreign number since I study abroad and— yeah. I didn’t activate my local one this time. And you know how internet connection is here.”

“Basically nonexistent,” You agree. “But how do we meet up if we can’t—“

He smiles. “I can just come here every night after dinner.”

Your breath hitches again. Happiness beats in your heart. You could certainly do with that. “Sure. If it’s alright with you, I mean.”

“It’s why I’m here.”

In all honesty, the fact that Doyoung is back does not hit you until around the end of the first week.

The week in itself is fairly uneventful if you overlook the excitement his presence gives you. You mostly just speak to each other, to catch up on all that lost time. One thing you notice is how affectionate and all over each other both of you seemed to get, and on your part, it was still about making sure he was truly there. Hugs quickly grew to be the default state you would hang out together. If his arm was not around your shoulders, your arm would be stationed at the small of his back as you sat at the beach or the pier, and if neither was happening your legs would be sprawled across and over his lap.

Nothing about the affection you two seemed to gain felt awkward. It came so naturally.

The only weird thing about Doyoung was how he managed to be so punctual. You would show up at the pier as soon as it got dark, basically— and often he would already be there waiting. If not, he would only be late for around a few minutes. You could not tell if it was intuition the both of you shared, or a silent agreement. Whatever it was, it was a great thing, and you were thankful for it, because it gave you the time you so badly needed with your best friend.

Keeping Doyoung a secret from your mother proved to be harder than you initially thought. The fact that you were almost a fully grown adult about to start junior year of college seemed to be an irrelevant fact as soon as you started staying outside for too long in the night, and you had to swear to your mother several times that everything was okay. You excused yourself saying it was too hot when sun was out, and the beach was breezy and enjoyable in the night, so you would rather hang out with your dog then.

Which was not all a lie. She seemed to enjoy herself a lot more then, as well, and sweat a lot less. Not to mention her liking of Doyoung.

Randomly on one night you notice the bracelet still on Doyoung’s wrist. It makes you smile silly. “You still have it on.” Your finger goes and pulls on it, reminding Doyoung of the fact. He smiles fondly. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you?”

You pull your leg out of the water and show him. “I do, just not on my wrist.” The green and red beads shine on your ankle with the moonlight, and your leg goes chilly when the breeze hits. Doyoung’s reaction looks questionable at best so it only prompts you to further explain yourself. “Motivates me to hold my ground. It’s easier to remember who I am this way.” The words awaken something you would rather not feel ever again. Your chest hurts with the rush of the stinging feeling, but you hold yourself to endure it.

He stops as another wave hits both of your legs and furrows his brows. “What does that mean?” You turn back around to face him better— he looks hurt, somehow. As if he can feel what you are feeling inside. You take a breath. “I was very lonely, you know,” The tone of your voice reflects the hurt you kept dearly inside, and you have to physically squeeze your hands within themselves to not let the cracks reach the bottom of your feet where they would break you in half. It is the first time you ever admit it and the words sound harsher in your ear than how they used to sound inside your thoughts. “I still am, in a way. And it’s hard to not want to run away from everything when the world basically gives you all the reasons to. So I had to stand my ground.”

When his mouth opens to say whatever he had on his mind you turn your back to him. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Your dog passes by you two, running along the shore and playing in the water, blind to the atmosphere.

Doyoung respects what you say.

Although thankful for his silence, it eats away at you for days. Some part of you keeps saying that you are not letting Doyoung get as close to you as he has been letting and is letting. Because he lets you know how his biggest dream is to really debut in a Broadway show, and how singing means so much to him now. You know he studies in one of the best schools for musical theatre. You know about how he is lifelong companions with his brother now, instead of enemies like how they had been when you were children. You know he is still very afraid of anything remotely creepy. You know his biggest insecurity is his dancing and his biggest fear is being involved in anything violent and getting hurt. You just know so many things about him. And he keeps telling you even more with excitement beaming off of his eyes.

And it makes you feel bad. Because you cannot bring yourself to talk about everything like he does.

For one night, you let the attitude fall, though.

You decide he can get to know something if he wants to, because that night you had promised each other to meet at a later hour than you normally would have. You had promised your mother a proper dinner and chat, inarguably a nice way to spend your evening, and there were a bit too many glasses of drinks in your system. Luckily you were still highly functional— treading on the fine line between tipsy and fully drunk. It was more or less an open invitation to an interrogation with how talkative you were.

Doyoung notices the slight sway in your steps before a second even passes. He chuckles a bit, giggling as you throw yourself into his open arms. His giggling prompts a sluggish laugh from you because it is just so cute. And he helps you to your station of just a bit over two weeks. He helps you sit down without slipping, and helps your dog to calm down a little by petting her head.

He is still a very good friend.

You do not bother to open your mouth, because the sky is dark, the pier is dimly lit, the breeze is soft and chilly, the smell of sea salt is intoxicating, your old love bug of a dog is wagging her tail looking at you, and Doyoung is sitting right beside you. Your head is on his shoulder.

It feels so perfect. Why would you want to talk?

But he has other plans.

“Do you want to talk about last week? The night when we were walking along the shore, I mean?” His voice is gentle as ever. Even though the question is highly expected, you huff. Yet your head acts on autopilot as it nods. “Sure.”

He clears his throat. “Why do you feel lonely?” The question is blurted out and not cautiously asked, as if had he tried to ask it with caution he would not have been able to.

Still, it feels like he has to ask the hardest questions. But, you jump into an answer without any preparation. “First, you left. Every single summer I waited for you to come back. Along those summers I kind of,” The act of jumping into an answer does not seem to be all that easier than working through the painful thoughts, so you trail off a bit before you pick your words back up again. “I guess I kind of felt betrayed and, um, lost trust? I never tried to be friends with anyone and the amount of people that take the first step towards someone who clearly won’t try is fairly low, you know?” You look up at him, and he is already looking down at you. Gently but without a smile.

“So I didn’t have friends, really. Not like you. Then, like I told you— dad left. Was the icing on the cake. I was too used to his presence, like yours. Both of you were with me for more than half my life and suddenly you weren’t.” You scoot closer to him as an instinct and he welcomes you, like he always does. “I guess that hurt the most.”

“Was too big of an emptiness to handle?” It sounds so lighthearted, yet is so spot on. So you can only nod as you hold onto his arm. “Yeah, but I handled it.” Plus, it had payed off— he was here and soon, your father would be too.

Your father calls you a few days later on a sunny but breezy afternoon when you are in the backyard playing with your dog. His voice sounds tired and old— a fact you could only realize when you were not face to face with him. Tired maybe because of his work schedule. Old because you were not the only one growing up.

But his voice is not only tired and old, it also sounds genuinely apologetic. “Hey, honey, I don’t think I’ll be able to visit you there this summer. I’m so sorry. Maybe we can spend time next summer, you could even get an internship here before senior year starts?”

Yet it still sounds just like a mix of made up excuses. “You can’t or you won’t visit me?” The question is bitter with every sound that leaves you, and your father certainly seems to get the point as a sigh echoes in your ear soon after. “I don’t think your mother would enjoy me being there, so how about we just see each other in winter break, hm? It’s sooner than summer break, and a few months will fly by with school. I’m sure.”

“Making truce for a week shouldn’t be so hard after that many years of marriage.” Your argument is intended to reflect the disappointment in your voice and it does, but there is also a very obvious hint of hope in there that goes unnoticed. “That’s not how relationships work, honey. I’m sorry. Please don’t get mad at your mom, okay? Tell her I said hi, and call me back when you feel better.”

And he ends the call.

It takes everything in you to not throw the phone hard to the ground. Instead you call your dog to come sit next to you on the grass, and cuddle her in hopes of getting better. By ways of magic, perhaps, she can tell your heart is broken and that you need the company. So she calms down in lightning speed and just nuzzles into you, and you stay there like that, her sweating and looking around and rarely whining and hugging you closer, until your mother calls you in for dinner.

Dinner is uneventful save for your mother asking you if you would be going out again, which you would be. She talks to you about these new recipes that she has found in this new recipe book she bought and you pretend to be interested in the matter. In all honesty you could not care less but it would not be justifiable to say that since you knew you would be devouring the sweets if they came to existence in that instant.

You finish your food in silence before grabbing your denim jacket and making your way out of the door with only a stern and noticeable “Dad says hi.”

Doyoung is luckily already at the pier that evening even though it is slightly earlier than your usual meeting time. He is sat down at the end, looking down and watching the small waves hitting the legs of the pier. He must hear your feet on the boards because he immediately turns around and lifts himself up to his feet, but his smile falters when he is able to make your face out in the dim light. “Why are you alone? Something wrong?”

It is only his question that reminds you that you had rushed to the pier with one less friend because you forgot to bring her. That had never happened before, and the fact that you had the ability to forget weighs heavy on your shoulders— to the extent that you only look down at your feet in shame and break down when the tears invade your eyes without any signal.

Nothing happens for a few seconds as you weep. He takes the first step towards you after the initial shock and slowly brings you into a hug as you mumble shaky apologies with trembling hands. You are enclosed in such a hug that you cannot even hug him back, and he keeps reassuring you that it’s fine, that you don’t need to apologize for crying, and that you’re so strong. He keeps combing through your hair with his fingers, and at some point he helps you sit down before pulling you back into a hug.

Calming down is hard because of too many things hitting you at once, and perhaps because your newly-built happiness had taken another blow to it. “Dad’s not coming.” You manage out after a while, and he listens as you ramble. “There’s only a couple of weeks until I have to go back and—“

You sob. “I just want childhood back. Everything was better back then. He was here, you were here, we were happy. I’d give everything up to be kids again if I knew we could.”

His eyes are brimmed with tears too, but he would never tell you that. Instead he pulls you in closer if it even is possible, and takes a deep breath before speaking up. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you sing?” The low mumble vibrating into his chest reaches his heart, and he cannot bring himself to say no. It takes mere seconds before he takes in another breath and jumps into a song.

You are just so young at this very moment, my dearest Life ahead has hopes and joys Promises of happy days For you, for an eternity Neither loneliness nor any lies may ever bring tears to your eyes You've wept enough when you were born, Let that be the final, the last

Doyoung’s singing is beautiful. His airy voice that carries so much emotion with it only makes you cry harder initially, which makes him panic slightly as he keeps trying to check up on you, but you just shake your head and bury your face deeper into his chest. The song touches every living cell in your body and gives you a strength you would never expect a song to give you, and it makes you feel hopeful.

Just a bit, but it is a start of something that blooms in your chest.

And you do feel better afterwards, though it takes you some time to quiet down properly. Doyoung asks if you are actually feeling better when the sniffles subside, and you nod.

Then an idea strikes you, and you smile.

You shove Doyoung with your hand. “Ow! What was that for?”

Slowly rising up to your feet, you look at him. “Catch me if you can!”

And you bolt away from him.

It takes more time than strictly necessary for him to realize what you mean. His words only reach your ears when you have already made your way to the beach. “I thought we outgrew this!” And he starts running to catch you.

Playing tag on sand is more difficult than you remember. Maybe because you really outgrew this game, or maybe because it is dark, possibly both, but you could not care. You were too busy with running away from him, who by the way, was much better at tag than you would expect. He still had the speed he once did while you were kids and playing the game in your shared backyard, and the fact that you two were playing on sand does not seem to be phasing him too much.

You have to resort to running along the shore with your feet in the water to slow him down, but he still comes dangerously close to catching you. So it is really your only resort to run back onto the pier.

Except the pier is not wide enough to fit two adults circling the width of it with that much speed. It would only grant a chance for Doyoung to catch you. But, the adult you was crazy enough to do something the child you would never have the bravery to.

You do not know how you manage to take off your denim jacket that fast, but you do, and you let out a scream of adrenaline just as he shouts at you to stop— and you jump into the water when you reach the end.

The water is definitely colder than how it had been in the morning when you were swimming, but you still laugh as you make your way to the surface. Doyoung looks at you with wide eyes and a smile. “Come on!” You manage out. “A little water shouldn’t scare you from catching me.”

He laughs at the invitation, takes a few big steps back, and runs forward to jump into the water himself.

Your mother scolds you in the morning about the fact when she asks you why you have got a minor cold all of the sudden, but it certainly is worth it.

“You want to sleep over at ours tonight?”

You ask him the question as summer’s last days quickly approach on a night (basically almost a morning) where you have stayed up for too long. There was not much reason to let him go back to his friend’s house. Especially when you did not trust him with traveling in the dead of the night.

It freaks him out a bit, you can tell, because he physically gets a bit smaller and fidgets. “You know I can’t, what if your mom—“

“She’s sleeping, I swear. She never stays up this late. You can just sleep for a few hours and leave when the sun comes out.”

He cannot protest the idea much after that, because he knows you would not let him go.

Together, you leave the pier and start walking back to your house which takes quite some time, but it is nice. Walking back towards that direction with him again flutters your heart. It makes you want to squeal in excitement. But at the same time it is not exactly like how it was when the two of you were kids. There was something different.

You could not put a finger on it.

Your dog trails behind you, trotting contently as you walk arm in arm. Walking that way had started off as a joke around two weeks ago when the both of you walked through the streets neighboring the beach. You two played a game of two elites roaming through the streets of the commonwealth as you told him what the neighbors had been up to in the years that he had not come. And then, it just stayed as a habit.

Because it was comfortable. And because you liked being close to him.

When you reached the backyard, you opened the gate and let him and your dog in. The bugs were still playing a symphony of various different screeching, and your summer house was pitch dark as you had expected it to be.

You make your way towards the back door and slide it to the side, and one friend of yours makes her way inside and onto her bed immediately. The other friend is not so quick. You turn around to tell him to hurry up before mosquitoes make their way inside, but you find him stuck in place with no intention of moving as he looks at what used to be their house.

You slide the door back and walk back to him.

“It looks so.. run down,” He sounds so genuinely sad for the first time ever since he came back. It hurts you to see it. “And old. I wish I could help it somehow.” The second half of his words only come out as a whisper as he inspects the place that holds his better part of childhood memories.

“Nobody’s bought it. Your parents could buy it back if they wanted to, but it does require a lot of work inside.” You suggest calmly, and with hope that is supposed to be ironic yet quite the opposite of it. Doyoung looks so confused at what you say. It takes him a good moment before it clicks. “Yeah, yeah, true. I don’t think they’d do it, though.” He sighs, thoroughly considering whether to stay there and look at the house, or to go back in. He chooses the better option even though it is hard. “Let’s go inside.”

It takes too much effort to coerce him into sleeping with you on your bed rather than having him sleep on the very uncomfortable couch. You tell him more than enough times that his back would be broken if he ever attempted even taking a nap on the couch— speaking from experience— and he just ends up giggling shyly when you tell him it does not have to be weird if you two sleep together.

So you two go to your room. As the furnitures never really needed to change, your bed was still a twin bed, which only prompted Doyoung to get that much shier.

You two get in the bed and under the covers, you on the side against the wall to give him the chance to leave comfortably when he has to. To make him feel better about it, you take your phone and set an alarm to the exact minute of sunrise, and he laughs when you tell him he is too much of a scaredy cat.

As your twin bed’s width commanded, you had to cuddle to have a chance at sleeping comfortably. Your head on his chest feels better than ever, his breathing hitting the top of your head slightly funny. He giggles when you giggle at the feeling. You can imagine him smiling crystal clear in your head and surely, when you look up at him, he is.

It is just a shame that you do not hear his heartbeat when you turn back to sleep, because you really wonder if it is beating as fast as yours do.

Just a few days before you have to leave.

You ask Doyoung to come in the afternoon that day because you want to have a picnic, which he agrees to. Both of you meet at the pier around an hour before sun would start to set, and share a hug before he starts to make his way to the end of the pier. But you stop him this once. “I wanna take you somewhere else.” He agrees to it without much questioning.

The trails seem to be a bit more overtaken by thorns and wild flowers, so it takes you a bit longer than it should have to get to the patch of olive trees. You look at him expectantly when you arrive and, surely enough, he has one of the most beautiful smiles on his face. The happiest, too, if you recall right.

You lead him to your tree and set the bag of snacks down, preparing the place— laying down the old table cloth to sit on, taking out the packed sandwiches and olives and the blueberry muffins. He is too entranced looking at the tree to notice, but he throws an apologetic glance when he realizes.

“Where are the strings? I can’t see them,” He claims. You point to one of the higher end of the branches, a place where they definitely were not initially placed. “I had to change their location as it grew,” You explain. “They were too tight to stay where we’d tied them when we were midgets.”

Doyoung laughs and its remainder stays on his face as he finally spots the strings on the tree. He looks at it for a minute or two in adoration, but his eyes hold something a bit sadder inside.

Maybe he misses childhood, too; you never stopped to think about it before.

Soon enough he sits down. You unwrap your sandwich and suggest he does the same, but he tells you he is not that hungry though he would make sure to eat it.

A warm chatter starts between you two. He asks you what you would be doing for junior year, which was pretty set already— you would be looking for internships left and right, and trying to survive the mountains worth of assignments. Midterms and finals would surely be getting more difficult as well, but that did not matter all that much. An internship would help you find a job, so that would be your focus.

You ask the same to him, what he would do that year before he graduates. It must be exciting to graduate, and Doyoung tells you he would have to start looking for places to live and extend his immigration status in one way or another while he auditions maybe hundreds of times before he manages to land himself in a good musical and hopefully a good position.

He can do it, you know. There is no way he cannot with that voice. You tell him that, and he gets a bit flattered before telling you his concerns do not have too much to do with singing but rather with dancing.

You tell him he still can.

That ends up being the finish line for that conversation and you finish your sandwich in silence, only looking at your phone sometimes to see if you have any texts or calls from your mother, since she is the one that has to take care of your dog.

He watches the leaves wave in the constant breeze this summer offered this place, and picks up an olive from the cup you had brought. He holds it up and lines it with the branches that are decorated with unripe olives, and squints his eyes before asking. “Did these come from here?”

You nod your head enthusiastically. “Mhm,” Your hand lands itself on the trunk behind your back. “From this tree itself. My dad collected them when he came here in October last year.”

Doyoung smiles and pops the olive into his mouth. He looks genuinely delighted to be eating it, which makes you happy.

The two of you continue chatting and bickering and relaxing until sun starts setting, which signals that you have to get going. The summer house still had to get cleaned and tidied up to get ready for being locked up for the off-season, and the amount of work you and your mother had to do was a bigger deal than it needed to be. Not to mention the fact that you had to carry so many stuff to and from this place every year, so there was even some packing to do, which you hated. University experience really brought too much of it.

And then there is the fact that somehow, you would have to say goodbye. Having to say goodbye to Doyoung gave you a nostalgic feeling, but mostly it made you feel sad and scared. The day you would have to tell him goodbye for who knows how long was approaching without any mercy, which did not make it any easier to plan what to do next or how to say it before going to sleep at night.

So maybe it is only fair to say what is going through your mind. Which is that you do not want him to leave again. “Doyoung,” You start off. He looks into your eyes with full attention. “Don’t leave again. Not for long.”

The request prompts the start of silence. But it is only for a short while before he gulps, and answers with determination. “I won’t.” He shakes his head. “Not again.”

The untold promise makes you so happy you can cry, and what he happens next is really not something that had a thought behind it.

You place your hands on his jaw and bring him closer, so much closer to you until your lips meet, and his hand springs to hold yours on his face with shock. What you seem to be doing shocks you as well, but you cannot exactly stop yourself. You did not want to. And you certainly are sure you would not stop unless he wants to.

Yet, he also does not seem to want to stop. Because after the initial shock that lasts for what must be only a second, he holds your hand tight and places his other hand on the small of your back. His lips are so soft and airy, and the way he kisses you is so endearing. It feels like he is repeating his promise without words, telling you he is here now, and he would be here when you come back. You stop and pull away from him just for a second, looking into his eyes that shimmer before leaning back in and pecking his lips again and again— kissing him thank you, thank you, thank you. He holds you in place and kisses you for what you know is going to be the last time, and he kisses you so forcefully it screams I love you; I don’t know how it happened but I love you and I want to keep loving you.

You push back against his lips in an attempt to say I love you yourself, but you have to pull away and hug him tight to make any sense.

It takes a moment for him to start speaking, and when he does, he sounds absolutely horrified. “We need to talk.”

You pull away from him again and look at his stressed figure. It makes your heart drop. “About this?”

He shakes his head at first but then nods. “I need to tell you something. We really need to talk.”

The happiness in you dares to falter, but you will not let it. Not this once. Not when you are this happy. So you lift yourself up onto your feet and shake your head, because you will not let him bulldoze something he had built himself. “You know what? No. Let me live with this just for a night.” Doyoung tries to protest, opening his mouth, but you cut him off before he can even start. “Just one night, Doyoung. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

He only nods slightly, and you mutter an “I’ll leave now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before packing everything back up and handing him his sandwich, and rushing back to your house.

It takes you only a short while to get there because of how fast you were walking, and you do your best to get into the backyard and into the house without making much noise, because your mother was not expecting you. She might have been sleeping.

And granted, the house is silent and calm when you first walk in. But then you spot the figure of your mother hunched over the island counter in the kitchen, on the phone. You are about to go ahead and hug her from the back as a surprise when her barely audible sob stops you. It is impossible to go unnoticed just how hard she is crying, because she cannot even let it out fully. It makes you wonder why, what was wrong, but then she speaks—

“I’m serious. Our child was speaking into pure emptiness and it’s.. I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared.”

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct 127 #nct u #my fingers hurt #my brain is mush #i hope this is a good one #lol i can only hope

52 notes · View notes

corav1a · 5 years ago

Photo

THE APPLE GIRL; a lesbian love story by v.b

Harlow Scott has been hopelessly in love with her best friend Alruna since before she even knew what love was. She never had the courage to confess her feelings, so she’s been spilling them on the pages of her blog under the username Aech.

Through that blog, Harlow meets an user “whoatemyapples” and as they talk, she begins to catch feelings. Despite that, her feelings for Alruna don’t go away.

After a traumatic event hosted by her mother, Harlow leaves the house that never was home, and finds herself in the arms of her Apple Girl.

Word count; 7,452

Warnings; There’s some swearing, and a very homophobic mother, but no actual slurs are used.

This is unbelievably personal, I’ve never written something like this before. This is my soul on this white background.

I saw her again today, in the hall. She was talking to her friends, and she was laughing. She looked so blissfully unaware of all the bad things around her. Of course, she could be putting on a brave face for everyone else. I wish I could put on a brave face; a mask that dims the horrible things I see every day.

I wish she could see me. I wish the world wasn’t such a bad place, so that she doesn’t have to put on a brave face. So that she doesn’t have to pretend.

Wishing is pretty much all I can do. I’m too much of a coward to make a move.

- Aech, the coward.

Another post. Another night hoping she’ll somehow see it and just know it’s me. Another night spent lying in my bed, staring up at the plastic stars scattered around my ceiling, thinking about her.

I see her every day, not just from afar. She’s my friend, one of my best friends. I’ve known her since we were ten. I’ve loved her since I learned what love was.

And then I learned girls aren’t supposed to love girls the way I love her. And then I cried.

I’ve managed to repress the feelings, for a while. And then we got into high school, and then she was so beautiful, and she was there every day. Every class. Every lunch break. Every holiday, our families spent together.

My heart has been breaking over and over for so many years. But, as much as she was breaking it, she was piecing it back together, as well.

It’s hard. Loving someone whom society doesn’t want you to love.

It’s hard. Knowing if you ever told anyone, they’d never look at you the same way.

It’s another night spent wide awake, aimlessly scrolling through my social media, checking my inbox and my post to see if she’d reach out. She never does, and I know that.

It’s another morning dragging myself out of my bed when the first rays of Sun hit my window and illuminate my room. It’s getting showered and getting dressed, it’s putting on a dark green beanie over lose hair because I know she loves that color.

It’s walking to the kitchen with my bag over my shoulder, socked feet sliding over parquet. It’s kissing my mom’s cheek and muttering a good morning, even if it is far from that. The coffee is still hot, because mom gets up at the same as me for her work.

The house smells like cigarettes, because she can’t not smoke two boxes in one day. I pour coffee into my thermos cup and kiss her again before leaving. I don’t like kissing her, but it’s a habit, something I’ve done since I was a child and stopping it now would feel weird. She smells like smoke.

Ravenwood High isn’t far from our small house. That’s a big plus. I get to blast music through my headphones and breathe in fresh air before being stuck inside for hours. I don’t have friends to meet along the way; both of them live much farther away and have to leave their homes early to make it.

I meet them in front of the school gates.

She’s beautiful today, as well. She smiles when I walk over and gives me a strong hug, like she always does. She smiles, so soft and bright, eyes shining in the November Sun. I want to kiss her.

Micah, the other friend, pulls me into a hug as well. He’s tall, six foot something, and the captain of our basketball team. Everyone wants to be his friend or be him, and yet he chooses to hang out with us.

“I had the craziest dream last night,” he says, waving his free hand wildly in the air. In the other, he holds a Starbucks coffee.

Alruna and I sigh, and look at each other. We’re used to this. Her eyes are so soft.

“We were playing a game, right, and we were winning, which was great, and then, all of a sudden, I was standing naked in the middle of the court, and I went to shoot, and I missed the shot, and then an alligator showed up. And then I woke up.” He takes a long sip of his coffee after he finishes, after saying everything in one breath. It’s not his first coffee, then.

“Wow, dude, that’s wild,” Alruna says, feigning surprise. There’s a smile on her lips, anyway, and I want to put my hands on her cheeks and kiss her.

“Yeah, just hope that it doesn’t come true. No one wants to see your carrot,” I say, bumping my elbow against his forearm. That’s as high as it gets.

He looks terrified. “Oh, fuck, no.” He shudders, and we laugh. This is easy. This is what I want; friends I can joke around with, friends I know will be there for me when I need them. I can’t risk losing that. I won’t.

School passes slow. The hallways are packed, the classrooms are stuffy and there’s a weird smell in one that no can identify. We have a pop quiz in History, which I’m sure I’ve failed. I don’t like nor care for History, honestly.

Micah has practice, so we wait for him on the bleachers. It’s cold in the gym; I don’t know how those guys can play in just shorts and a t-shirt. I’d freeze. Like I am now.

“Dude, you good? You’re shaking like a leaf,” Alruna asks, concern filling her voice.

“It’s freezing here,” I answer. She doesn’t seem bothered by the cold.

“Jesus,” she sighs. She puts down her phone and unwraps her thick scarf.

“Dude, no.”

“Shut up and take it, you’re not getting sick this close to the Fall Ball.” She wraps the scarf around me and rubs my shoulder for a second. Warmth immediately spreads through me, both from the scarf and her proximity.

“Thanks,” I say, burying my face in the scarf and taking a deep breath. It smells sweet and fruity, like her. It smells like home.

The Fall Ball. The bane of my existence. This small gym, packed with people, bursting with music so loud your ears bleed. I never want to go, and yet one look from Alruna and I’m giving in. That’s how weak I am. Pathetic.

After Micah’s done, we head to the café a few blocks from the school. They have the best coffee and the best strawberry shortcake, so we end up there almost every day after school. None of us is really keen on going home, anyway. None of us will be coming to a welcoming environment, so we stay out for as long as we can.

“Are you ready for the big game?” Alruna asks Micah, but she steals a piece of the cake from my plate.

“Oi, you have your own!”

“Honestly, yeah. We’re all in top shape, we’re practicing like never before. The coach is confident, and so am I,” Micha answers. He reaches for my cake as well, but I block his fork with my own.

“Back. Off.”

“You let Alruna take some.”

“I didn’t see her coming. You, on the other hand, I did. Stay away.”

He pouts. “This is homophobia.”

“Being gay doesn’t give you strawberry shortcake privileges,” Alruna laughs.

“And being straight does?”

“No, I’m just Harlow’s favorite, aren’t I?”Alruna leans onto me, nuzzles her cheek on my shoulder like a cat.

“No, you’re a nuisance sitting in my blind spot and stealing my food,” I answer and shrug the shoulder she’s leaning on, pushing her away when the only thing I really want to do is pull her closer.

She laughs, the sound like a melody. I’m really pathetic, aren’t I?

Coming home is a tragedy, every day. It’s opening the door to silence, to smoke still lingering in the air. It’s the loud thump of my bag as I drop it onto the kitchen chair and turn the stove on to make something to eat because mom didn’t.

It’s going to my room and turning on music to fill the air, opening the window to air it out because the smoke got in there, too. It’s sitting at my desk with a bowl of mac and cheese, opening up my laptop and checking my messages.

A piece of pasta almost gets stuck in my throat when I see a little red circle next to the icon of an envelope.

It could be her.

What if it is her?

I open it, before I drive myself into a panic attack.

Hey. I just wanted to say that I feel your pain. I know how it is to love someone so far out of your reach. I hope she’ll see you one day, the same way you see her.

It came from a user whoatemyapples, and tears sprung to my eyes.

I hope that someone of yours comes closer, as well.

It’s not her. Of course, it’s not. I don’t even know if she has an account here. I’m pathetic for hoping she does, and even more for hoping she will recognize me.

Someone said to me, “the bigger the pain, the bigger the happiness.” I felt that. As much as she hurts me, without even meaning to, every time she smiles or talks to me, she makes me so happy. So, maybe, hopefully, one day, all this pain will be erased with happiness from holding her in my arms.

I know it’s just wishful thinking. A fantasy I can’t seem to get out of. A dream within a dream, unreachable, unreal.

- Aech, the dreamer.

It’s another post she won’t see. It’s another spillage of my feelings on a white background of a blog. Another night spent alone.

My phone rings, and it’s a FaceTime request from Micah.

“Yo.”

“Why are you upside down?”

“Because I can be. What do you want?”

“Help. Which one should I wear?” He holds up two shirts, one a dark blue color, the other the ugliest shade of green I’ve ever seen. They’re both button-ups.

“Wear the blue one, and fucking burn the green. It physically hurts me to look at it.”

“My aunt got that for me.”

“Disown her, immediately.”

“Harlow, no. So, blue?”

“Yes. Why, though?”

“I have a date.”

“Who’s the poor bastard?”

“Ha, ha, funny. It’s none of your business.”

“It is if I’m helping you get dressed. Spill.”

“You know Devon?”

“The kid with the bleached hair on your team?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“Wait, wait.” I get up from my upside-down position and sit on the bed. A laugh bubbles up in my chest. “Dude, he’s five feet two, barely. You’ll break him.”

He splutters. “Harlow! Get your mind out of the gutter! We’re not gonna fuck!”

“Not tonight.” I wink.

“I hate you.” He hangs up, face red and eyes comically wide. I fall back on my bed, still laughing at the mental image of those two together.

I am happy for him. Micah deserves every ounce of love and happiness, from whoever he dates.

I manage to fall asleep for a few hours, and then it’s all over again. Except, there’s a new message in my inbox.

Whoatemyapples; “The bigger the pain, the bigger the happiness.” It’s a nice quote, in theory, but I think it’s bullshit. Why does there have to be pain, and only then happiness? Why can’t happiness come first?

Aech; Because the world is cruel. Because people are poisoned with hate, and it spreads, it spreads like pain. And not everyone has the cure. Those who do, they were once infected too, but they found happiness, somehow, someday.

Whoatemyapples; Are you infected, then?

Aech; Not with hate. With sadness.

She doesn’t answer, after that. I know it’s a girl because she has her pronouns in her blog description. I wonder what she’s going through.

The routine stays the same.

I meet Micah and Alruna at the gates, and we greet each other with hugs. Alruna smells like roses and strawberries.

“So,” I say, nudging Micah. “Devon still in one piece?”

“Who’s Devon?” Alruna asks, looking up at Micah with one eyebrow raised.

Micah splutters. “We didn’t have sex, Harlow, for God’s sake. He’s fine. And he’s a teammate, and also was my date last night.”

Alurna’s face breaks into her I want to know every detail so spill expression. “Oh, do tell.”

“We went to the Zoo and walked through the park, okay, it’s not so interesting.” His face is redder than when he’s tired from a game in Summer, and there’s a look in his eyes that says more than his words ever will.

I spot Devon by his locker, bleached blonde hair sticking up in every direction. I push Micah forward. “Go get your boy, big boy.”

“Oh, fuck you.” He gives me the middle finger over his shoulder, but he walks towards Devon with a spring in his step. He reaches above Devon, who’s struggling to get a book from the top shelf of his locker.

Devon turns around and looks up, and his eyes positively light up at the sight of Micah, who hands him the book. They say something I can’t hear over the noise of the hallway, and then Devon gets on his tiptoes, pulls Micah down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him.

“Oh, shit, Micah’s a bottom.” Alruna pulls the words right out of my mouth, and we burst out laughing.

“I did not see this coming.”

“Way to go, Devon.”

We continue walking to our classroom, leaving Devon and Micah to catch up when they’re done.

“Can you believe this? All this time, I was worried Micah would split someone in half.”

“You are so nasty!” Alruna exclaims, hitting me on the arm. But she’s laughing, and hair is falling into her eyes. I reach forward and flip the strand out of her eyes.

“You love me.” I stick my tongue out. I wish so desperately for her to say I really do, and mean it. She doesn’t. She laughs, shakes her head and looks at the front of the classroom when the professor enters.

When I get home, it’s the same again. I make toast and a cup of tea, and sit at my desk. There’s some homework I have to do, but it’s not too pressing, so I have time to waste online.

I was really close to her today. I could smell her perfume. She smells like fresh roses. They were always my favorite flowers, and it’s kind of poetic.

Loving something that can hurt you if you’re not careful, if you get too close.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t who I am. It would be easier to love. To live.

It’s easier to love when the world doesn’t hate you.

- Aech, who got too close

I do my homework. I hear the door open hours later, followed by loud banging as my mom makes her way to the kitchen. She’s probably angry at something or someone again, and I pray she doesn’t come to my room.

She does.

She opens my door without knocking, with too much unnecessary force. “Did you eat?”

“I did.”

“Do you want to eat now?”

“Nope.”

And that’s it. She slams the door closed, and I sigh.

At least she closed the door.

I shower, and get into my bed. I check my blog. There’s a message.

Whoatemyapples; Why do you think the whole word hates you?

Aech; Because of who I am. To the world, my existence is a sin. And the world hates sins, apparently.

Whoatemyapples; If that were true, the world wouldn’t do half the things it does. Like smoking - that’s a sin, as well.

Aech; Indeed. But they see smoking as an addiction, and that’s acceptable. They don’t force smokers to go to rehab; they’re left alone. People like me, not so much.

Whoatemyapples; and what would people like you be, then?

Aech; Everything someone normal isn’t.

I stop answering after that. There’s a new message, but I don’t have it in me to read it, to answer it. I’ll do it tomorrow.

I don’t sleep, again. I watch a movie, then another one. I stare out of my window at the clouds up in the sky. An owl hoots somewhere.

The Sun rises. I get up, get dressed, go to the kitchen.

Mom’s on her phone, cigarette in hand. “Morning,” she says, but it feels like she’s forcing it out, saying it simply for the sake of saying it.

I reply the same, fill my thermos and leave after kissing her on the cheek. I wonder when that will stop. When will I feel comfortable enough to stop?

On my way to school, I open the unread text.

Whoatemyapples; If it so, then the world hates me, too.

Oh, shit. Is she gay, as well? Should I ask? No, that would be too forward, I don’t even know her name. Should I answer? What do I even say to that?

I don’t answer.

When I get to the gates, Alruna isn’t there. Only Micah and Devon are.

I hug them both, even if I don’t know Devon that well. If he’s with Micah, he gets the same greeting.

“Where’s our better half? Or, well, quarter.”

Micah shrugs. “No idea, haven’t heard from her since last night.” He has an arm around Devon’s shoulders, and Devon is wearing a shirt that is so obviously not his. It’s cute.

Alruna’s missed school before, we all have. But usually, she would let one of us know. By the time lunch rolls around, I cave and text her. She replies in less than a minute.

Got my fucking period this morning, it knocked me down before I could even get up. And now I literally cannot get out of bed.

And another, a few seconds later; take notes for me, and next coffee is on me.

I would have taken notes for her anyway.

Deal.

“Was that her?”

“Yeah, she got her period.”

“Yikes. I’m so glad I don’t feel that pain,” Micah says, shuddering.

“I could kick you in the balls, that would be close enough.”

“Stay away from my balls.”

I raise my hands up in surrender and stab a piece of carrot with my plastic fork. Without Alruna, I feel empty. Like a piece of me is missing, like the world is underwater, blurred and out of focus. I know that’s bad, depending on one person to make you feel whole.

But I can’t help it.

My phone buzzes with a notification. I glance at Micah and see him heavily making out with Devon. They won’t notice me ignoring them, then.

Whoatemyapples; I hate being a woman. I hate periods. I don’t know why I’m texting you this. Maybe because all my friends are in school and I’m bored. You won’t even understand, anyway. Being a guy must be so easy.

Aw, shit. She thinks I’m a guy? First of all, ew. Second of all, why do I care? I made my username gender neural on purpose so nobody knows who I am.

Aech; Wouldn’t know, I’m not a guy. And how do you know I’m not at school as well?

Whoatemyapples; Ah, shit, sorry. I assumed so because of your username and the way you write about that girl.

Are you?

Aech; It’s okay. Some days I do wish I was a boy.

Guess.

Whoatemyapples; So you could have feelings for a girl and not hate yourself for it? Yeah, same.

Since you’re replying so fast, I’mma say you aren’t.

My breath stops in my throat. I know there are other gay people out there, obviously, and that they also have crushes, obviously. I never expected there to be anyone so much like me.

Aech; And to not have periods.

*buzzer noise* wrong! I’ve got lunch rn.

Whoatemyapples; What disgusting shit are they serving today?

I lift my phone and snap a picture of my plate. Mashed potatoes that taste like sand and some shit that is supposed to resemble vegetables.

Whoatemyapples; That looks absolutely atrocious

Aech; It tastes like sand

Whoatemyapples; ugh, ew. Gonna go throw up, brb

The bell rings before she texts again. The day passes as usual. Waiting for Micah to end his practice alone is ten times colder than when Alruna is here.

Devon is there though. He’s on the bench, apparently not playing today. Slowly, I make my way down to him and sit in the first row of bleachers, right behind him.

“Not playing today?” He jumps, not expecting me. I laugh.

“Nope, fucked up my knee last year and it hurts like hell today.”

I lean forward, looking at Micah out on the court. “You sure it’s just your leg?”

Devon looks at me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do yo- Oh!” Realization crosses his face, and he goes red. “Bold of you to assume he’s the top in this relationship.”

I try not to howl with laughter, instead burying my face in Alruna’s scarf. I’ve forgotten to give it back, and I had intended to today, but.

I chat with Devon during practice, and I don’t feel so alone anymore.

Sitting at the café with just Micah feels weird.

“Does it feel weird without Alruna, or is it just me?” Micah asks, same what I was about to.

“It’s definitely weird. There’s no one to steal our food.”

“I can – “

“No.”

“Rude.”

I shrug. “How’s it going with Devon? Are you a good bottom?” I laugh at the expression on his face. I can’t even describe the look of utter betrayal he gives me.

“I hate you so fucking much, oh my god. Stop laughing!” He’s redder than the shirt he’s wearing, and I laugh even harder when he throws crumbs from his pastry at me.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. But seriously, how is it?”

Micah sighs, almost dreamily. “It’s really nice. He’s nice and he gets me and I can’t believe it took us this long to get together.”

“Man, I’m so happy for you. But,” I pause, faking a very serious expression. “If your dick kills him, I know where to bury the body.”

I hate coming home. It’s not even a home, not really, it’s a house in which I’m living, surviving, but choke every time I enter. Nothing here matters to me, not the room I have or the things I own.

My mom should matter to me. She doesn’t, because she isn’t good at being a mother. There’s no love from her, not any that I feel, anyway. There’s only anger, and hate.

God, so much hate.

These walls trap me in like they trap in smoke. I wish I could escape out of the window with it.

Nothing feels like home, here. I feel like I’m disconnected from everything and everyone like there’s no place for me here. I wish I could just disappear. Not die, but go somewhere else. Away.

She makes me feel like I’m home. She wasn’t in school today. I know it’s not smart to depend on another person so much you feel lost without her. And yet, I still do.

She holds me together.

- Aech, disconnected

I want to call her, I want to hear her voice. But she’s asleep, and she’s in pain, and I don’t want to bother her. I wish I could be with her, to comfort her and make her that disgusting tea she adores.

A new message pops up.

Whoatemyapples; Your girl really doesn’t know what she’s missing out on

Aech; A mess, I’d say

Whoatemyapples; A mess who loves her so much she can barely breathe when she’s not around.

Aech; Takes one to know one, huh?

Whoatemyapples; Yeah. How long has it been, for you?

Aech; Since we were fourteen. You?

Whoatemyapples; I’ve loved her before I even knew what love was. First time I saw her, I thought, “I want to spend my life with her.”

Tears spring to my eyes. It’s what I think about Alruna all the time. Why does this girl get me?

Aech; I felt that. What a sad pair we are, huh

Whoatemyapples; I wish she’d see me the way I see her

Aech; I know

I fall asleep with my phone in my hand, and wake up to no new messages.

Rinse and repeat.

Alruna is at the gates today, leaning heavily on Micah’s side with a pained expression. Micah’s leaning on the wall, and Devon is under his other arm.

“Well, don’t y’all look so lively this morning,” I say when I’m close enough. Alruna groans.

“Why are you so loud?”

“Am not, you’re just sensitive.”

“Shh.” She sways as she stands up straight, as if she’s drunk. I hug Micah and Devon first, and then her, and I let her lean on me as we head inside.

“She took too many painkillers,” Devon says.

“Makes sense, yeah,” I laugh. Micah has a game today, a friendly match with a neighboring school. I honestly don’t even remember the name, but a game means there’s a party after and Micah’s going to drag us to it whether we want to go or not.

I don’t want to, and Alruna doesn’t care. There’s gonna be food and drinks and that’s good enough for her.

Classes pass slowly. Nothing interesting ever happens in them, and none of the professors bother to make them interesting.

It’s cold outside, because of course it is. The bleachers are metal and freezing, even with so many layers I have on.

Alruna laughs. “You always were sensitive to weather.”

“It’s literally fifty degrees, shut the fuck up.” My teeth clatter against one another. I want to curl up and have her hug her and keep me warm.

“The AC is on.”

“The fuck it is.”

She laughs. The audacity. She keeps giggling to herself as she pulls something out of her bag. “I got you, here.” She hands me a thick, red sweater.

My heart leaps. It’s beating so fast I’m surprised the whole gym doesn’t hear it. My cheeks heat up, but since they were already red from the cold there’s no difference. I take the sweater, wiggle out of my coat and pull the sweater over my head. It catches on my hair and messes it up, but I don’t care.

I pull the coat back over myself and hug my arms around my stomach. Alruna continues to silently chuckle, and the game begins.

We win. It’s nothing new, really, our school is one of the best in the state, but we still jump up and cheer loudly when Micah makes the winning shot.

We watch as he celebrates with his teammates, and then goes over to Devon and kisses him, right in the middle of the gym, in front of everyone.

Half the gym cheers and claps, Alruna and I as well, while the others stand shocked, not reacting.

The party is at Nick’s house, which is four houses down from mine. We wait in front of the gates for the boys to get their things, and head out together. They’re all so loud, screaming and yelling in the afterglow of their victory.

Alruna and I stick together, her arm underneath mine because she loves to hold onto people when she walks close to them. I don’t mind. She’s warm, I don’t even know how in this weather.

The party is loud, and I stick to the snack table with a cup of punch that isn’t spiked. I watch as Alruna drinks and dances with people I’m sure she barely knows, but she’s smiling and having fun and I know she’s going to stay over at mine, so I’m not worried. I’ll take care of her.

I pull out my phone and open up my blog.

We’re at a party after Ravenwood won another game. I don’t like crowds and parties, but she’s here and she’s dancing and laughing and she’s beautiful.

She’s staying over tonight because I live the closest. I’m ecstatic, but also terrified. We’ll be so close, and yet there’s no possibility anything will happen.

I’d never take advantage of her drunken state. Never would dream of it.

I watch these people, dancing and celebrating and drinking, letting go of their problems for one night. Enjoying the loud music that probably shuts out any other thought in their brain.

I wish I could join them, but I hate the taste of alcohol and the music gives me a headache.

- Aech, a wallflower

“Harlow, come on, dance with me.” I barely manage to lock my phone before Alruna is bouncing up to me, hair sticking in every direction and a thin layer of sweat on her face. Her cheeks are red and there’s a smile across her lips.

I want so badly to kiss her.

I want her to kiss me back.

I want. I want.

“Al, no,” I drag out the “o” as she grabs my hand and drags me into the crowd. Too many sweaty bodies, not enough room, not enough air.

“One song,” I yell into her ear. We’re so close, if I move just a little bit my lips would graze her cheek.

I move away.

We dance, and when the song is over, I pull away and make my way to Nick’s garden in the back. The cold air is a refreshing change from the stuffy air inside, and I can breathe again.

Looking up at the stars, I marvel at them. I’ve always been a space nerd, watched so many documentaries, read so many articles and book on stars. I envy them; up there, they’re alone, but from down here they look like they couldn’t be closer.

Alone, and yet they shine so brightly. Alone, but not lonely. I wish I could feel the same.

“You okay?” It’s Micah, who appeared next to me and I didn’t even hear him.

Maybe this is the time to tell him. I need to tell someone. The longer I keep it to myself, the harder it’s going to become to let it out later.

I take a deep breath. “I’m in love with Alruna.” This is the first time I’ve said it out loud. It feels liberating.

Micah smiles. “I know.”

My head snaps down so fast my neck aches. “You do? How?

“Dude,” he laughs. “You’re about as subtle as a police siren.”

“Shut up,” I swat him on the arm as if there’s a fly there.

Shit, if he noticed, maybe Alruna did too.

“Don’t worry, it’s obvious to me because I’ve been there. Alruna has no idea.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Just, trust me, okay? Breathe, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks,” I exhale.

“She going home with you?” I hum in response. The music is so loud even outside, my head is pounding.

“I think this might be the time to leave, before she passes out.” He points inside, and I turn to see Alruna swaying on her feet.

“Yup, we’re going.”

Walking home while supporting her is surprisingly easy, because she cooperates and walks with me instead of just slumping against me. I take her to the kitchen first and hand her a glass of water.

In my room, she dresses in my shorts and a short-sleeved shirt and passes out on my bed before she even finishes throwing her clothes on to the floor.

I snap a picture to show it to her in the morning, knowing she’ll both laugh and be embarrassed.

After I’ve changed into my pajamas, I cover her with a blanket and curl up in a bean chair next to my window, with my laptop. I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, I never do.

There are no new messages on my blog, and I don’t make a new post. I open up Netflix and fall asleep sometime before dawn.

When Alruna wakes up, it’s with a groan and burrowing deeper under my sheets.

“Can you turn the light off?”

“It is off.”

“It’s too bright.”

I laugh, quietly, knowing she has a headache and her head is pounding. The curtains are drawn shut and it really is dark in the room, aside from the fairy lights around my window.

“I’m gonna make breakfast,” I say as I get up. She mutters something from underneath the blankets, but I can’t understand it.

Mom’s at work. The kitchen smells like smoke and coffee. I turn on the stove and the coffee maker, and find painkillers while I wait.

We’ve been here before. We’ve gone to parties, she’s gotten drunk and I brought her home and I took care of her.

I’ve brought her a glass of water and a painkiller and gently coaxed her out of her blanket burrito, like now.

She’s gotten up, not letting the blanket go, and sat at the dining table, like now. I take out eggs and bacon and a pan.

She doesn’t eat much, not at first. Later, when the pain stops, she’ll ask for more and we’ll order take out and spend the day together.

It’s domestic, and I take all I can get, but it also hurts, the thought of knowing this is all just platonic for her. Just two best friends, taking care of each other.

I wish we were more.

I wish.

The days pass. I talk to whoatemyapples again when I get online. I don’t sleep. Days pass without me even noticing, and slowly, the more I talk to the Apple girl, the more I realize I’m catching feelings for her. But, my feelings for Alruna don’t go away.

And Apple girl’s feelings for her girl don’t go away, either.

Months pass. I still talk to my Apple girl, and I’m still in love with Alruna. It confuses me. How can I love two people at the same time?

I’ve fallen for someone else. But I still have feelings for her. For my rose, and my thorns. How could that be? What should I do?

Why do I fall for girls who are so unreachable? Why am I so unlucky?

So pathetic.

- Aech, the pathetic

Whoatemyapples; there’s a quote that says something along the lines of

If you ever fall in love with two people at the same time, chose the second one, because if you truly loved the first one, you never would have fallen for the second

Aech; But what if I truly do love them both, equally? I’ve thought so much about it, and I can’t stop loving neither

Whoatemyapples; then, you have a choice to make. Think carefully, and choose wisely

Aech; I choose you

I don’t send the last message. My brain worked faster than my hands, and I typed it without thinking.

Maybe that is the right choice. Maybe she’ll tell me she chooses me too.

Fuck. I don’t even know her name. And she doesn’t know mine.

So, I decided to ask, few days later.

Whoatemyapples; If I told you, you’d know immediately who I am

Aech; That is kind of the point, isn’t it?

Whoatemyapples; Not in this case

Aech; I’ve been calling you the apple girl in my head. I’d really like to know your name

Whoatemyapples; If I tell you, you’d know me, and I don’t think I’m ready for that

Aech; I already do know you, though.

Whoatemyapples; You don’t know everything

Aech; I want to, though. Everything and anything you’re willing to share

Whoatemyapples; Can I, then, tell you something no one knows?

Aech; Of course

Whoatemyapples; Promise you won’t run away?

Aech; You’re my apple girl. Nothing can chase me away

Whoatemyapples; I’m in love with you

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing. I know I can’t believe my eyes, and I can’t move for a while. My fingers are stuck above my keyboard.

She’s in love with me.

I’m in love with her, I realize. I am. She’s been there through so many sleepless nights, has listened to so much of my shit. And she’s still here.

Aech; I’m in love with you, too. And now I really need to know your name. Please.

Whoatemyapples; Wait, you are?

Aech; Yes. How could I not be?

Whoatemyapples; How about this. At the Fall Ball, we’ll meet. I really want to know your name, too. I want to take you far away from here.

Aech; How will I know it’s you?

I’d gladly go, anywhere you want.

Whoatemyapples; I’ll be wearing a red dress. Color of the apples.

Aech; I can’t wait to see you.

I don’t believe this is happening. I’ll see her. Finally, I’ll know who my apple girl is.

A tiny, teeny voice in the back of my head asks “What if it is Alruna?” I ignore it. It’s not her.

The Fall Ball is a week away. And a week never felt so far away. I’ve never anticipated something this much, let alone the Ball. I’ve only ever gone because of Alruna.

Thursday afternoon, the day before the Ball and Micah’s big game, I can feel that something is off the moment I open the front door.

My mom sits in the kitchen, my laptop open in front of her. My heart drops. My legs shake.

No, no, no, no, please no. No, please.

She looks up at me, eyes teary. Why the fuck is she crying? My anxiety skyrockets.

“Sit. Explain.” She points at the chair next to her and then at my laptop. My legs weigh a ton as I walk over. My heart absolutely shatters when I see what’s on the screen.

My messages with my apple girl.

I don’t sit. I can’t. I swallow hard and take a deep breath.

“There’s nothing to explain, is there.” It’s not a question. Now, I’m angry. Now, I’m pissed. She had the audacity to go through my personal messages. What the fuck? What kind of mother is that?

“You`re gay?” She starts crying. She has no right.

“I am.”

“How could you? This is the worst thing that can happen to a parent. That is a sin. This is not how I raised you.”

“That’s the thing, you didn’t raise me! You were just here to feed me and keep a roof over my head! I learned nothing from you! And I’m glad I didn’t because if I did I’d end up like you, so close-minded and full of hate. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” I’m yelling. I’m crying. I’m breaking.

But so is she. And she deserves it.

Before she can say anything else, I speak up again. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand to live here anymore. If you can’t accept who I am, then I am not your daughter anymore.”

I don’t wait to see her expression. I pick up my bag, take my laptop, and run to my room. I feel free. I feel like I can finally breathe. I lock my door and start packing the essentials, only what can fit in my suitcase and things I hold dear to me.

I climb out of the window and make my way to the bus station. I’ll go to Micah’s, for a while. He’s the closest, and I know his parents won’t mind. Unlike mine, his family had accepted him immediately.

I don’t remember much of the way there. I remember standing at his door, shaking, falling into his arms as soon as he’s close enough to catch me. I remember telling him what happened, I remember his anger. I remember falling asleep in his lap.

When I wake up, I’m still in his lap.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.”

“Feeling better?”

I exhale. “I honestly feel better than ever. I’ve no idea what’s going to happen to me now, but I feel free.”

“We can help. I talked to my mom, she’ll pull some strings in the Social Services and you can stay with us until you turn eighteen. You can stay for as long as you need to.”

My eyes water, my bottom lip trembles. “F - for real?”

“H, I’ve known you since we were five. You’re my family,” he says and pulls me into another bone-crushing hug.

“Have you told Alruna?”

“No, I came straight here.” I haven’t even told Apple girl. I should. I take my phone out of my pocket. There are missed calls and texts from my mother. I delete them and open my blog.

Aech; Something happened, with my mom. Can we please meet, I need to talk to you face to face.

Whoatemyapples; Shit, how bad is it? Are you okay?

Aech; I left. I ran away. I’m safe, at a friend’s house.

Whoatemyapples; Where do you want to meet?

I swallow. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. We were supposed to meet at the Ball. Of course, nothing in my life goes how it is supposed to.

I give her the location, a park near Micah’s house. She says she knows where it is, she’ll meet me there in ten minutes.

I need five to get there. I tell Micah everything, then. About my blog, about my Apple girl.

“Well, go on then. Don’t leave your girl waiting.” I smile and jump up from the couch. “We will talk about talking to strangers online, though!” I hear him yell, but I’m out of the door and running.

Running towards my Apple girl, towards my heart, my home, my future. I know she’s all of that like I know the sky is blue.

I see her sitting on the bench. I know it’s her because there’s not a single other soul here. I walk over, and the closer I get the more familiar she becomes.

Until I’m standing in front of her, and looking right at Alruna. Everything hits me, again. But doubled. My feelings for my best friend, and my feelings for my Apple girl. They’re the same person.

She doesn’t look surprised.

I’m crying.

“Hello, love.” I’ve only ever imagined her saying that to me.

“I don’t - I don’t understand. How - ?” I can’t talk. She’s right in front of me, she loves me and I love her, so why can’t I move?

“I’m sorry. I figured out it was you after you told me about your mother. Talking to you after that hurt, knowing you liked someone else.”

“It was always you.”

“I know that now.” She’s so beautiful. Her hands touch mine, touch so soft as if I’ll break if she presses harder. I might. But at least I’d be breaking in her arms.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks. I’m still crying, so it’s going to be messy. But it’s going to be perfect.

“Please.” I haven’t even fully finished saying it and her lips crash onto mine. They’re soft, just like the rest of her is. The world falls into place. My broken pieces come together right here in her arms, under the moonlight.

She’s mine now. Can you believe? We’re eighteen, and we have our own place. Well, it’s mostly paid by her parents, but as soon as we finish school we will find a summer job and pay them back.

I haven’t posted in a long while, because there was nothing to post anymore.

This will be an update, and the end of Aech.

I don’t live with my mother anymore, nor am I in contact with her. She found my messages with my girl, and outed me to my whole family, who now doesn’t want to do anything with me. Now, I’m a disgrace, a sinner, a disappointment.

I don’t care. That’s not family, and I never chose them.

I chose my friends. I chose Micah, who let me stay with him until I figured myself out.

I chose Alruna, who was always there to keep me warm and who has loved me more than anyone ever has or will.

I chose Devon, who sits with me at practice when Alruna isn’t there and tries to explain the rules to me. I still don’t get them, but I love him.

They are my family. They always will be.

Family isn’t blood. They can be, if you chose to.

Family is friends who will never let you fall, friends who saw all of your broken pieces and didn’t get cut on them. Instead, they picked them up carefully and glued them back together.

Family is who you chose your family to be.

- Aech, aka Harlow Scott.

#lqbtq #short story #lesbian #writing #emotional #romance #found family #the apple girl

22 notes · View notes

darkpoisonouslove · 5 years ago

Note

You’ve basically written everything I’ve asked for and a hundred times more, so to stop me from feeling insatiable and not to crowd you with ideas (more than you do that to yourself haha) consider this a fun fact of me? xd I love hurt/comfort, like it’s very likely my absolute fav genre. So, obviously, I would go crazy over some good old ‘lover worried about their hurt partner’ stuff, preferably with Coven-era Valtor and Griffin, with Griffin as the injured one 🤪

Thanks for the consideration. :D Now I’m kinda curious whether there is anything else you would like to see from me, though. (Why is my brain like that?) So if there is, feel free to tell me. Who knows when the inspo will strike and make me write it. XD

Quite like with this one. “Write a tidbit” Yeah, right. Like I know how to do that. I just want to say that I don’t know what I am doing as I think Hurt/Comfort is my worst genre so be warned about that. I think I managed to steer it to angst again but I tried my best to stick to the request. Also, if you have any pointers on the Hurt/Comfort front, feel free to give them as, like I said, I am not even sure I get what needs to happen in those fics. (I mean it’s kinda self-explanatory but then again, kind of not really and I am totally lost. Help!)

Summary: They say love can make you do crazy things. It can accomplish astonishing things itself as well as it heals wounds it opened with its own strength. Valtor has yet to experience how powerful a feeling that makes you so weak can be when Griffin gets hurt by it.

Griffin was sitting on his–their–bed and nursing a cup of hot tea he’d conjured for her. She seemed to like it if the way she inhaled the steam from it was any indication even if he wasn’t quite sure what it tasted like when he’d been all over the place with his mind too scattered to remember what she loved. Other than him, that was, but he had to focus on her well-being and not get lost in memories.

She was obviously still sore from her injuries even if she insisted she was okay now. He could tell from the way she winced every time she moved to cocoon herself better in the sweater he’d gotten her.

Her mother had knitted it for her and he was sure it would bring her comfort. Probably even more than any of his clothes could have when they were all too formal and restricting which he knew she would have overlooked on account of them being his and prioritized that over her comfort. They couldn’t have that.

She was better after he’d drained most of whatever magic he had left after their mission in the healing spells he’d dug out of his memory when she’d refused to go to the infirmary. She was doing it for both of them when she could picture his mothers’ sneers and magic bolts thrown at them to make any injuries worse and teach them to never make the same mistake again. She’d gotten even more familiar with their temper tantrums now that she was with him in everything. His failure was hers and she was paying for it.

“Ow!”

Griffin’s distress had his attention snapping back to her in an instant.

She swiftly switched the hand she was holding her cup with and waved the other one as if that could make the burn of the tea scalding her go away. As if it was that easy to erase what had hurt her.

“You should be more careful,” Valtor said, pursing his lips the moment the words made it past them to contain the impulse to scream at her. That would hardly be appropriate after what she’d just been through. It would hardly be the way to treat his lover even if it made perfect sense and not just in the confines of his troubled mind.

He could still feel the swelling under her skin that his magic had mapped out, the bruises that had needed only that much time to start forming, the crack in a rib his mind had almost fallen through and out of his grasp, and worst of all – the absence of her own powers reaching to tangle with his. He’d been alone again when she’d lost consciousness on him, just like he’d been before she’d loved him. They’d been lucky he hadn’t sent them to Domino, which had definitely been a probability when the Dragon Fire could provide the healing power his mind had pulled him to but he hadn’t been sure he could find in the darkness in his own veins, when he’d opened that portal to take them home. Back to their base where she’d been safe when she hadn’t had to fight his battles.

“Tea can hardly burn me after I’ve been exposed to your hotness,” Griffin said, the mischief and allure back in her gaze as if her eyes hadn’t closed on him like there’d been no life inside them left.

It was what he was afraid of. She’d walk into the fires of hell convinced they wouldn’t hurt her when his own flames didn’t burn her. But as much as she claimed his warmth helped her muscles relax, she needed cold to keep at bay any bruising his magic may not have caught. His power was in destruction, not in healing that she’d always been so much better at. He’d been the only one that had been able to do anything for her injuries, however, when she’d just regained consciousness and had been robbed of her magic that was only now starting to come back with too little space left for it as gratefulness was filling her to the brim.

She scooted away in the bed to make room for him and lure him close again and he answered her unspoken plea. She would just start protesting and moving to irritate her muscles successfully after everything they’d been through already. Plus, if he was comforted by the softness of her body–even as sore and stiff as it was–he could only imagine the effect his presence had on her.

She laid her head on his shoulder once he was in bed with her only to whimper like a kicked puppy when her neck protested and the sound of misery hit that nerve in him that was still inflamed with worry.

He’d been restless like a scaredy-cat in the few moments it had taken him to confirm she hadn’t broken her neck as she’d fallen out of the sky, not at all similar to a shooting star when she’d plummeted headfirst towards the ground with the frailness of her human life and her death would have only granted his worst nightmare. He’d thanked her lucky stars–she had to have at least a few of those to compensate for the absence of his own that she hadn’t followed into even as she’d followed him everywhere–that they’d lent her some of their endurance and power that had seen her all in one piece when she’d landed in the dirt of his failure to protect either one of them.

“You’re more reasonable than that,” he chastised quietly when the light of her eyes would illuminate every corner of his soul to leave nothing hidden from her gaze. He didn’t want to hide any of his weaknesses from her if it would stop her from taking them as her burden and sacrificing herself to save him from them but it was worth the energy he wasted in attempts to cover them when they would only push her further into her selfless foolishness that she loved to call love. At least he could count on her to read all his pages and empathize with his panic and horror which he could only pray–if he knew to whom–would tip the balance back to her mind, back in her favor.

“I am,” Griffin said, moving again to catch his gaze and causing herself pain in the process, poking him to capture her lips and kiss her until she was out of breath and couldn’t put him first anymore but the steady rhythm her chest was following in its movements had been the only thing keeping him sane when it’d meant she was alive. He couldn’t bear to see it disrupted so soon after that very thing would have been his death. “Your magic was our only ticket back home so I couldn’t let anyone take you out,” she said calmly as if the explosion of her magic hadn’t shaken her to her core like it had him and her pretense of strategy could fool him.

He wasn’t as blinded by her love as he would need to be to buy her lie about the strength of it. Her comfort was a priority right now, though, so he pretended to believe her even when she always saw right inside him. They both saw through each other’s eyes to the mind behind and he hoped that would make her use hers more instead of her heart even if that could hurt their harmony. Her own well-being was in the balance and with that he didn’t want to take any chances.

Griffin nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck and wrapped an arm around his chest even if he could hear her muscles screaming against it. Challenging any logic, the tension in her melted away when he wrapped her in his embrace and pressed her in himself as gently as his heart was capable of when it was racing still from the terror of losing her to her own love for him. He couldn’t hurt her for the damage she’d done to herself in his name when they shared feelings. They were one whole so hurting him was hurting her and vice versa.

It was a shock he had to actively fight against to keep from shaking in its grasp to know how vulnerable their weakness for each other left them. And yet, they were the embodiment of content when wrapped in each other and the comfort of their shared breath as his lips found hers and her life left him too full of itself for fear to find a way in his body.

Send me a summary of the fic you want me to write and I might write a little from it

#winx club #winx valtor #winx griffin #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans

9 notes · View notes

typewriterghcst · 4 years ago

Text

Title: A Very Small Wish Fandom: The Cat Returns Characters: Baron, Muta, Toto, Haru, plus some OCs Rating: PGish maybe?? Words: 4724 Summary: A pleading request from a parent whose daughter has been cursed by a resentful witch is nothing truly out of the ordinary for the Cat Bureau— in fact, it might be so common so as to be routine— so why does something feel inherently off about this particular one? Notes: Third chapter of six of a Secret Santa gift for @deedee-sunflowers. It’s about here that the chapters start getting a bit long hhh. Tho I think they end up a little shorter again eventually Anyway, the first task. A lot of different influences went into these parts of the story, and I hope they’re not too blatant or distracting, aha ;; Also, I forgot! I drew a very small doodle of the little patchwork creatures which feature in this chapter, if anyone’s interested `~`;;

Ch. 3: The Sown Forest

The Sown Forest is near deathly silent, or… perhaps at least it feels that it should be, but the crunching of the snow under their collective feet and an ever-present rumbling ambiance akin to a distant earthquake means there’s little true silence to be had. And even without that unexpected ambient background, something about the place doesn’t feel quite right. In every direction grow thin, white trees, scattered haphazardly and yet also in just the right formation to make the forest seem far too organized, tidy. Patterned.

No matter where they look, the horizon stretches out over an immeasurable distance, and the white of the sky and that of the level, milky ground meld into one. Only the wispy, bare branches of the trees break up the monotony of the landscape.

“Well,” Baron finally thinks to remark, “The bright red of a holly berry is likely to stick out like a rather sore thumb in this environment, isn’t it?”

“Sure, if you can find the one dumb enough to grow right now,” Muta grumbles, burying his nose into the warmth of the scarf wrapped around his neck and grumpily huddling further into his coat.

“Now, let’s not lose faith so early, Muta. Should we remain positive and keep a cool head about this, we’re sure to succeed.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say…” More grousing.

“We have only a limited amount of time to triumph over all three of these challenges, and I believe we’ll cover more ground if we split up into groups. Muta, Miss Haru— the two of you start in that direction. Mr. Vanya and I shall take the opposite. Toto, see if you can discern anything from the sky.”

“A berry— even a patch of berries, might be difficult to spot from an aerial view,” Toto responds as a gentle caution. “Even in such a uniform environment.”

“I know, but there’s no harm in trying anyhow.”

Toto nods. Then, more firmly than before, “And how do you propose we find this spot again to inevitably reconvene?”

Ah, bless Toto again, Haru thinks to herself briefly, because Baron looks rather comically bemused by this question, and she and Muta and Toto (if possibly even Vanya, the newcomer that he is) know that this very important piece of information had not occurred to him while putting together his impromptu plan. He gives a pensive noise, one hand going to his chin as the other is planted on his hip.

Eventually, he glances at the trees surrounding them, appearing to have been struck by inspiration, and then removes his hat.

Wordlessly, he hangs it on one of the nearest branches, positioning it just so so it won’t slip off or blow away (though there’s not been even the slightest whisper of wind since they’d arrived).

“Here we are. We’ll all meet back here in an hour— keep an eye on your own footprints. They’re all four of them different, and they should help to distinguish our separate paths.”

Something in Vanya’s gaze gleams as he looks to Baron’s hanging hat, though he ultimately turns away from it to rejoin the group. Instead, he hops like a particularly excited toddler to Haru and Muta (well, Haru, to be more truthful). In one of his paws is what appears to be a skewered snake or worm, which he wastes no time in handing sloppily to the teen, much to her dismay.

“For good luck! This is a traditional Oostal charm good for finding tricky things. And we need all the good luck we can get!”

Haru looks swiftly to Muta for assistance, but the cat is leaning away from her with an expression that speaks to no less than utter baffled disgust. Well. Strained gratitude it is, then, it seems.

“O-Ohh… You’re right, that’s a good idea— th-thank you.”

Vanya beams in a manner eerily reminiscent of the Cat King before scampering back over to his place beside Baron (and it’s only through their long shared history with the cat figurine that Toto and Muta both glean the subtle apprehension in his own expression, that he is mutely waiting in terror for the fox to hand him one of these traditional charms as well). Vanya neglects to do so, however, and Baron’s subdued trepidation is gone almost as soon as it’d revealed itself.

“Remember— one hour. If all else fails, Toto at least should be able to reunite us.”

With that decided, they start off in their opposite directions, Toto taking wing into the sky.

&&&

It’s terribly easy to become disoriented in the Sown Forest, Haru and Muta quickly find out. If not for their own footprints, they swiftly agree they’d have long since been wandering in tight circles and not even realized it. The seamless boundary between land and sky and tree has Haru occasionally feeling rather like she’s walking on a spinning top which also wobbles across the table.

She eventually places the skewered… animal Vanya had given her down beneath a tree, shooting Muta an injured look when he comments on it.

“Looking a gift horse in the mouth, chicky? Didn’t think you had it in ya,” he cracks with a sardonic laugh.

“I’ll pick it back up before we head back to the others! He’ll never even know. B-Because there’s no reason for me to actually carry it with me the whole time we’re looking…”

“I’m just picking on ya. You dropping that thing is gonna do wonders for my nose. Smells like a spoiled fish.” Then, with an annoyed huff, he continues, “I woulda thrown it at him— try to give me some stinky dead thing on a stick—”

“Come on, he’s not that bad,” Haru tries, but she knows she doesn’t sound all that convinced herself. And Muta’s not about to let it go without comment, either.

“You don’t sound so sure to me, kid.”

Haru turns in her spot on her heel, feeling lost and restless in a hard-to-define way. The Sown Forest is devoid of rocks and bushes entirely; it’s nothing but thin scraggly trees, and she would never have imagined before now that to scour such a nebulous landscape might prove to be so exasperating. Where does one search for a pop of color when there are no hiding places?

“...do you get… kind of a weird feeling from Vanya..?”

“Yeah,” Muta doesn’t hesitate to respond sourly. “He’s a tiny, annoying puffball with a bad laugh.”

“N— No, I mean— like an uneasy feeling. Like something is… um, off.”

“Probably ‘cause something is off about him. I don’t trust that puffball.”

The relief Haru gains from such a simple sentence is near indeterminable. She almost leaps in victory.

“I knew it couldn’t be just me! Well, and Toto, maybe, but he was more mum on the whole thing. You know how he is.”

“A gargoyle of few words, yeah, I guess. Real annoying, if you ask me. It’d be a lot easier if everyone just said what they mean instead of hanging on to secrets to keep the peace.”

Distantly, Haru gets the distinct impression this complaint has roots beyond the borders of the current situation, and she’s not sure what to say to it.

Muta, also, seems similarly surprised at himself, and in the end, he chooses to bulldoze past it, circling a few trees in the silence and eventually speaking up, “...Anyway, this Vanya creature pipsqueak is fishy, an’ I don’t like him. I don’t know what he is. Something old. And this place is, too.”

“What about Baron? Do you think he’s being careful enough? He’s wandering around alone with Vanya right now…”

“Eh, Baron’s kind of a soft-hearted ham sometimes, but he’s no peabrain. He’ll be fine.”

“Is that really the best you can do to reassure me..?”

“What? I dunno what to tell you, chicky, it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, but a little more optimism wouldn’t have hurt,” Haru mumbles plaintively.

“If you want, ya could bust on to the scene and rescue him from the puffball to pay him back. Hey, maybe he’ll start crushing on you, then.”

Oh, that calls for a heated blush. Haru stares down at the snow-covered ground of the Sown Forest, hands balled loosely into fists at her sides, though she’s trying desperately to play it all cool. Unfortunately, she’s never been much of an actor.

“He’s my friend— of course I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Muta’s response of the beginnings of a chaffing laugh is not well-received; Haru spins around to protest, but—

Something comes shuffling into their space from behind a nearby tree. And something is all Haru can think to describe it as— smaller even than Vanya and Siree, with a long, snuffling snout and a soft, bean bag body. The tiny creature lacks arms or wings of any kind, giving it an awkward, waddling gait. Missing also are eyes and any noticeable ears.

Yet the strangest thing is that it appears to have been sewn together out of scraps of colorfully-patterned fabric, much like a quilt. (It triggers a memory of her mother’s handiwork, in fact, and the very idea of her mother back at home, in the real world, throws Oostal’s alienness into stark relief. She’s so terribly far from home.)

Muta and Haru watch the little thing waddle between them and then down the way from them in silence before looking back to each other.

“What is it, Muta?” Haru asks. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What, you never had a stuffed animal before?”

“Stuffed animals don’t walk, Muta,” Haru responds with a huff.

“Eh, shows what you know.”

Whatever response Haru might have had to this lazy red herring abruptly trails off, because the funny little creature, having paused for a brief moment, now drops its floppy snout onto the ground and continues on in a faintly opposite direction, snorting softly the whole way.

“It must be one of the rumored inhabitants of the Sown Forest, right?”

“Yeh. Bet it’ll lead us to those rumored holly berries, too, if we’re careful about it.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Baron.”

Muta darts out from beside her with a faint derisive groan. “Remind me to scratch you later for that one.”

&&&

Following a colorful (albeit very small) waddling quilt animal through an otherwise blinding array of white snow and sky proves to be astonishingly more difficult than either Muta or Haru would have expected. More than once they somehow lose sight of the thing, only to have to stop and strain their ears for its characteristic snuffling breaths.

“It has two little stick legs and waddles like a sedated duck,” Muta complains at one point when they’ve lost it again. “How do we keep losin’ track of it?!”

“Hold on— Muta, I hear it again. It sounds really close.” Then, after a few seconds spent listening, she adds, “...Actually, it… sounds a little like it’s eating something, doesn’t it?”

This is all Muta seems to need to hear before turning on his heel and starting the opposite way.

“Where are you going?” Haru calls after him.

“I’m out!” He hollers back. “Nothing good comes outta anything that involves weird creatures feasting on stuff, I don’t care what it’s actually— woah!!”

“What is it— Muta, what’s wrong?” Haru dashes in the direction of his voice, fearing the worst. Yet she finds him with little difficulty, and in one piece, poised in the same horrified position a housewife might take were she confronted with a trail of muddy footprints across a formerly pristine linoleum floor.

At his feet, so close he could stretch out a paw and tip the little thing over were he so inclined, is the patchwork animal they’d been struggling to track… and the good luck charm Haru had abandoned earlier, which appears a little worse for the wear.

Muta dashes behind her with an unsteady gait, complaining the entire way. “Ughh, it’s even worse than what I was thinking—!”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Haru tries, even as she takes a repulsed step back at the faint sound of tearing meat and flinches. “...it’s still pretty bad, though.”

It’s as they’re watching from a couple paces away that the little thing lifts its ostensible head to… well, scrutinize them, Haru supposes, though it lacks the eyes to do so. Perhaps there is another, hidden sense that allows it to see in a less traditional manner.

Your trade is acceptable.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the creature before Muta and her is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding statement is clear.

“O-Oh—” She starts, and her voice is like an echoing gunshot in the silence of the forest, which leads her to whisper her next words, “We’re, um, glad you like it.”

Then, as they watch, it drops its head again and continues tearing delicate slivers off the charm, seemingly oblivious to their presence again.

“Well, now what?” Muta says at her feet. He’s still eyeing the patchwork creature with no small measure of antipathy, but he’s at least not subtly hiding behind Haru anymore.

“I guess we… wait for it to finish..?”

“Great.” Muta sits down with an annoyed huff. “Doesn’t it know we’re on a tight schedule here?”

Haru laughs, but it’s tinged with a speck of nervousness.

If not for the unmistakable noise of flapping wings over the ever present hum of the forest, the resultant wind would certainly give Toto’s arrival away— there’s been not even the barest hint of a breeze since they’ve been searching. The crow perches atop a nearby tangle of branches, cocking his head in a distinctly avian fashion at the creature they’ve run across.

“Ha, looks like you’ve found one of the inhabitants.”

“What was your first clue?”

“The quilt creature down there, mostly.”

Muta, again feeling indirectly bested, only grumbles lowly to himself and crosses his arms. Instead, Haru speaks up.

“It’s taking this good luck charm as a trade for the berry. At least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I guess it’ll… um, show us the way once it’s finished..? I’m not sure how it works.”

“Sounds plausible to me. Baron and Vanya are some ways off in that direction,” Toto also adds, gesturing with his wing. “I’ll go to let them know they can stop searching, and bring them here. Be right back!”

Haru and Muta watch him take off, and for a little while until he’s too far in the distance for them to make out, before turning back to their… companions. It seems in their distraction, more of the little quilt animals had arrived, attracted no doubt by the scent of the ‘good luck charm’ Haru had laid down before the tree.

“They really like this icky stuff, don’t they?” Haru muses in an almost-laugh.

Muta pokes one of them on the top of its soft head, causing it to lose its balance and fall to the side. Grudgingly, he sets it rightside up again. “...Guess that little pipsqueak knew what he was talking about, after all.”

&&&

Elsewhere, Toto’s return trip hits an unforeseen, somewhat bizarre snag.

“The Very Pretty Vanya Creature does not fly through the air like an unsolicited blown kiss!”

Baron and Toto share a puzzled, if slightly frazzled, look between them.

“Mr. Vanya, I sympathize if it’s a matter of a… ah, disdain for heights, but the time limit with which we’ve been burdened is perpetually ticking down, and we ought to do all we can to minimize wasted time,” Baron first tries.

“I’m a very careful flier, too. I promise you’ll have your feet on solid ground in no time at all,” Toto also adds.

But Vanya only shakes his head. “It is no matter of fear!” He begins in a manner that says fear is exactly the matter. “It is the principle! Pretty Vanya has no wings. He was meant to stay on the ground.”

It seemed there would be no convincing him. Baron turns to Toto.

“Toto, do you think then that you could fly a little ways overhead and guide us to the others? If we hurry, perhaps we’ll still make good time.”

Before them, Vanya wrings his paws fretfully before finally throwing one arm across his eyes and crying out, “Pretty Vanya must be left behind! He is the millstone dragging everyone else down!”

“N-Now— Mr. Vanya, please, don’t despair—”

“The Most Helpful Bureau must leave me behind,” Vanya insists again, this time without his face hidden, fixing Baron with a determined look. “I said it before, didn’t I? The Pretty Vanya Creature will meet you there in no time, because he is very fast.”

Faced with Vanya’s clear obstinate refusal and the added stress of a ticking clock, it doesn’t take long for Baron to give in, though the veneer of reluctance lingers over him still.

“V… Very well, Mr. Vanya. If you do insist. We’ll go on without you.”

"You will. But there's no reason to worry. It'll be all okay!"

"...Yes. Of course. Be careful."

As they’re flying away, Toto speaks up. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

Baron seems reluctant to answer, gaze distant and unfocused. Coupled with his stilted posture, it gives him the look of someone who is quite diligently trying to avoid jumping to an unpleasant conclusion.

“...It doesn’t matter,” he eventually responds quietly. “I suppose it’s not something which overtly needs his presence.”

“What about covertly?”

“Then we shall hope for the best.”

&&&

True to Toto’s ultimately fruitless attempts at reassurance, it seems only a matter of seconds when they have their feet back on solid ground, spotting Muta and Haru from the air easily enough and touching down just shy of them in the hopes of not startling the by now bristling crowd of tiny quilted animals surrounding the other two.

“Eh? Where’s the pipsqueak?”

“He chose to find his own way to our location,” Baron first explains in his impeccable manner.

“Scared of heights,” is Toto’s more honest addition.

Muta turns back to the quilt animals with an unimpressed scowl. “Figures. Just make us do all the dirty work.”

“Now, Muta, a genuine fear of heights is nothing to brush off.”

“Yeah, if it’s genuine…” Mumbled under his breath, but distinct enough for them all to hear, and that Baron (nor the other two) step in to offer a defense is telling… but also serves at least to inform them all that they’re all four on the same page.

“What about these little guys? Have they brought up the trade or the berry again?”

“No. I think they wanted to finish off the, um… trade first,” Haru says, looking from Baron and Toto to the gathering of quilt animals scattered about before them. She sits crouched on her haunches with her elbows on her thighs, gazing out at their odd companions with the same detached but amiable curiosity one might reserve for a child’s play.

“Can they really stretch out that one sticky charm enough for this many to have a bite of it?” She eventually notes with some incredulous amusement.

“They’re sure gonna try,” Muta snorts.

Finally, as they watch, in the distance it looks as if there are languid waves in the sea of brightly-colored patchwork, divots in the throng that speak to the movement of only a few individuals while the others part to let them pass.

It doesn’t take long; they soon find themselves approached for an apparent audience with a… particularly diminutive individual which separates from the group, one which also appears to have been adorned with a tattered shawl thrown over its body, which trails like a leaden weight after it (though upon closer inspection, this threadbare train is simply part of the little thing’s frame).

Some of the seams on its patchwork appear to be coming undone. Distantly, Haru wonders what will happen should they truly do so, and— quite swiftly derails her own thoughts before they can wander down distressing paths.

Strikingly, also, unlike the others, this one has been endowed with an eye— a single coffee-colored iris in startlingly familiar, human-shaped white sclera. Situated somewhat strangely off-centered atop its tapered, drooping head, it stares vacantly ahead, half-lidded.

The four of them feel themselves scrutinized by this seeming elder; even Muta has no complaint to offer in an attempt to hurry the process along.

Only one.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the little creature before them all is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding caveat is clear.

Baron nods stiffly, appearing to have been caught off-guard in the same way the rest of them had. “Yes. Just the one.”

The quilt-like creature responds with some erratic, floppy movements that vaguely resemble an affirmative nod before placing the tapered end of its cloth snout into Baron’s hands, where it drops a single round, bright red berry. It’s about the size of a particularly plump blueberry, though it seems quite larger in Baron’s gloved hands. Seemingly satisfied, the little animal turns then, and begins to waddle away.

“Thank you,” Haru thinks to call after it.

Not too far into the future, they will all four find themselves remembering this particular phrase and wonder furiously why such an innocuous one seemed to have such a profound effect upon the Sown Forest’s minuscule inhabitants. For now, however, it’s little more than a curiosity, when the creature abruptly stops with an accompanying jerk, and then goes quite still.

The others surrounding them, too, copy this one’s motions.

“Uhh, I don’t like the look of that—” Muta starts, but he’s rather abruptly cut off by a hoarse, low-pitched bark which echoes through their surroundings. The four of them instinctively back up in alarm, a sentiment which only grows upon witnessing the little things begin convulsing, tossing their heads into the air and then back down, all the while emitting those same short roars like a baleful staccato.

“That’s loud—”

“I think it’s time we took our leave,” Baron says (he makes a motion to steady his hat, only to belatedly realize he’d left it behind). He’d liked that hat.

No sooner have they turned on their collective tails and fled that the Sown Forest’s inhabitants scuttle and crawl after them in whatever way they can, and despite their obvious disadvantages, the little things are startlingly adept at keeping up with them. Haru doesn’t have the nerve to give their pursuers the thorough, lingering look she wants, too intent on making sure her pounding steps remain even and sound, but the tight-knit mob’s thunderous pursuit is impossible to mistake. It’s not long before panicked discouragement sets in. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Baron who speaks up first.

“We won’t be outrunning them on foot—”

“Good thing we have a gargoyle chicken, then, isn’t it?!” Muta snaps, then calls to said ‘gargoyle chicken,’ “Hey, birdbrain—!”

“Toto’s many good and admirable things, Muta, but I doubt even he is strong enough to carry a full-grown human—”

Haru, overhearing this, burns with the inclination to wildly apologize, all too aware of the cracks of the trees and the deafening crunch of packed snow behind them. She bows her head in remorse, feeling fervently in this moment that her decision to tag along really had been a mistake. She’s so close to contemplating how far she might get should she separate from the group and divert the creatures away… when she notices something rather strange.

“Wait—” Haru gasps, glancing down to herself in a bewildered fashion, so much so that for a fleeting second she stops in her tracks and has to be tugged along by Baron. “I’m not the same size I was— when did I get this small—?!”

Baron sounds just as bewildered when he answers, though he at least moves past it, “Let’s not kick a gift horse, now— Toto!”

“Got it!”

If Toto at all struggles with the effort to carry all three of them, even if Haru has been unexplainably shrunken, then he’s quite gifted with hiding it. He takes off into the air with them, far above the swarming quilt creatures, with no less agility than he usually does, and Baron and Haru spend the next few moments surveying the horde raptly.

“Ya just had to thank them, didn’t you?” Comes Muta’s complaint from his not altogether eager spot in Toto’s talons.

“I was just trying to be polite!” Haru counters just as plaintively, but even she sounds at least a little remorseful. “What kind of place takes words of gratitude as an offense..?”

��They don’t show any signs of slowing down,” Baron notes.

“Are they really gonna chase us all the way to the border?! They barely have the legs to run! You really steamed them with that gratitude BS, chicky.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Haru laments.

“We know you didn’t, Haru, “ Toto tries to reassure.

“Ah, it’s Vanya,” Baron says with a nod in the fox’s direction; he looks quite small (smaller than usual, that is) from their height, rapidly looking between them in the air and the horde of… well, what look to be furious blankets swarming the forest below them. He’s motioning frantically to them to come closer, to land as quickly as they can.

“Is he crazy?! There’s no way we’re landing that close to the forest— if he doesn’t make a break for it, he’s gonna get smothered, too,” Muta says.

Seemingly as an exasperated response to their stubbornness, Vanya points to the forest behind them with an agitated zealousness, or, perhaps more specifically, the perimeter which is teeming with untold numbers of the tiny quilt creatures. The vast majority of them pace behind the line of trees, fretful and overwrought; the unfortunate few that have accidentally tumbled beyond it lie scattered and twitching on the snow-covered ground like marooned fish.

“What’s wrong with them..?”

“Looks like they can’t go beyond the trees,” Toto guesses.

When they land, still uneasy from the agitated mass of patchwork continuing to obsessively tread back and forth just a scant stone’s throw away, Vanya is swift to bound over to them, practically throwing himself at Baron and wrapping his arms around the Creation. If Baron had appeared disconcerted at the mere possibility of being given one of Vanya’s messy luck charms, he’s downright alarmed when being in no uncertain terms ‘glomped’ by the same creature.

“You made it! Pretty Vanya was worried!”

“What’s wrong with the forest’s inhabitants, Vanya?”

Vanya lets Baron go (much to his evident relief) and cants his head in thought. “The Sown Forest exists as a powerful transformative milieu. Stay too long and one becomes part of it. The inhabitants can’t leave it.”

“What will happen to the ones that accidentally fell out of bounds?” Haru asks, glancing to the small number of quilt animals still lying pitifully just out of reach of the border of trees.

“They will die,” Vanya answers with a shrug. “Eventually.”

“But that’s awful! Can’t we just push them back into the forest..? Will they go back to normal then?”

“Yes.” Vanya sounds confused.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Haru says, starting for the border with a marked lack of hesitation. “There aren’t that many— it shouldn’t take long, should it?”

“Even less with assistance,” Baron agrees shortly, following after her.

“I guess we’re doing this now.” Muta, as well, trails after the two with a sullen grumble.

“Cheer up, kitty, exercise is good for you.”

“Don’t make me cook you.”

Behind them, Vanya, still holding Baron’s hat as if it were a priceless artifact, watches them leave with a hard to define look, moving just a foot or two from side to side (but never so much as a half-step forward). His tail twitches and flutters in a manner quite reminiscent of an inquisitive squirrel, with the searching mien to accompany it, but he ultimately says nothing and seems to content himself with killing time.

#the cat returns #secret santa

1 note · View note