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taintandviolent · 8 months ago

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bend without breaking ; Jimmy Darling x reader

summary and word count: 4.4K! requested by @sugarr-and-spicee. you get jealous of Maggie Esmeralda, and decide to give Jimmy a taste of his own medicine. Angst, smut and a little fluff ensues.

w a r n i n g s: contortionist!reader, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, angst, jealousy themes, rough sex, alcohol mention, clunky writing, uhhhhhhhh Jimmy being real handsy and kinda' manhandling reader a bit. maggie esmeralda hate.

a/n: written partially at work, so if it's clunky or disjointed I apologize!! divder by cafekitsune!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here!

It's not like you owned him or anything. It's not even like he really even cared about you outside of the scope of the general, amiable 'member of the troupe' kind of relationship. Now, of age, he flirted with you casually, like he did all the girls, but you, as delusional as it may have been, thought you had something special – because boy, oh boy, did you care about him. You were obsessed with Jimmy Darling, in all ways possible.

You'd grown up alongside him, from the age of sixteen when you got kicked out for a plethora of reasons, and ran away to the traveling freak show that was opportunely in town. It had taken the owner, Elsa Mars, almost all day to be convinced, but when you bent over backwards, putting your head through your legs and pleaded with her upside down, a sly smile spread across her thin, aging lips.

You thought that Jimmy might’ve fancied you – that was until Maggie came along. The liar. The fraud. The insolent little brat that she was. She’d taken a liking to Jimmy, and seemed to snatch up every second he was alone – something that you used to do. He had fallen for her fortune teller act, but you certainly hadn’t. Your aunt had been a fortune teller and had possessed a true and genuine gift. This broad did nothing but spin silly little tales about misfortune and good luck, generic things that any person could identify with.

You’d decided to test the waters one hot summer afternoon. It was before the show, and Jimmy was preoccupied setting up the cash box. With your skirt in your hand, swishing it back and forth, you strolled up to him feeling as giddy as ever. It was rare that you didn’t feel bubbly when you were around him – he had that effect on you. Before you spoke, you took in his appearance; a sheen of glistening sweat covered his bare, tanned shoulders, his caramel-coloured locks hung in a cluster on his forehead, and his dark, brown eyes swept over the cash as he counted it, arranging the tickets neatly next to the box.

“Hey Jimmy,” you cooed. “Need any help?”

Without looking up, he replied: “Nah, doll. I’m just about finished.”

“Well, maybe I could help you with whatever you’re doing next…”

“If I need ya’, I’ll find ya, sweetheart.”

“Or you could find Maggie.”

“She’s in her trailer.”

Your heart quivered and sunk, cracking like a delicate porcelain vase. He already knew; he’d already found her.

“Of course she is, and of course you’d know that.”

He grinned crookedly, exhaled out of his nose and shut the cash box, turning the key. He looked at you then, with a pointed gaze. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean? Huh?”

Your brows rose high on your head, feigning innocence. He, of course, with all his charm and wit, saw right through it. You didn’t care. “Oh, nothing , Jimmy. Nothing at all.”

“Sure, dollface, sure. You wouldn’t be jealous, now would ya?”

“Of her? I’d be more jealous of a drowned rat in a sewer than I would be of Maggie.”

With that, you stomped off, your steps crunching the tall grasses that covered the field you called home for this month. Your heart was pounding, your cheeks had flushed. Feeling like a fool, you marched right to your trailer, taking great care to slam the door as hard as you could.

You spun around, facing the door as thought he was behind it. “How dare he think I’m jealous of her ! That horrible woman, and he thinks – oooooh! ” You clenched your fists, shaking them at the door.

It had taken you two hours to calm down. Two hours of pacing your small bedroom, fussing with your appearance and reading a magazine you’d picked up in town last week. It also took you two hours to come up with what you thought was the revenge plan of the century.

An hour later, you found yourself at the local diner, schmoozing with a cute young man in his early twenties. You’d batted your fluffy lashes and pouted your lips and with hardly a few words, you had him wrapped around your manicured finger. He’d bought you a milkshake, which you were nursing, taking small sips in between answers.

“You’re sure you won’t run out of this diner screaming?”

“No - no. I promise I won’t.”

“I’m a travelling performer… I’m only here for a few more weeks. I work at the Freak Show in the field down the road.”

“What do you do?” He asked, cautiously, looking you over your body with a suddenly very critical eye. To most, you looked normal . Sure, you were a little longer and lithe than some girls your age, but you didn’t fit the bill of a freak. That was until you bent and contorted your body into the most mystifying, inappropriate positions that they had ever seen a woman in.

“I’m a…” you leaned in, dipping your chin to your chest, keeping your gaze sternly locked on his. “A… contortionist.”

“A what?”

Oh, what a dumb bunny . He was cute, you’d give him that; his pretty, sea-blue eyes, pink lips and dirty blonde hair that had been perfectly styled. The clincher was that he had two very nice hands – strong, and veiny. The truth of the matter was that you preferred Jimmy Darling’s hands – but he didn’t need to know that. To him, this would be a threat, and if everything went according to plan, Jimmy would be red with anger, furiously jealous and looking as though he must bust a vein.

“I’m flexible. Very flexible.”

His eyes lit up. It was a predictable response, and one you’d seen before. Men were grotesque, they liked the idea of bending a woman into unique positions like a jointed doll, just to see her body in a fresh, new way. They liked the thought of fucking you while you were bent over backwards, folded up neatly.

The waitress brought your food; you’d only ordered a side of fries, which you dipped into the remainder of your shake. A habit that you’d learned from Amazon Eve – it was easily the most delicious combo you’d ever tasted. As you two ate, the conversation drifted naturally. You laid on the charm heavy. Every other response contained a compliment, telling him how handsome he was, how you’d never seen a boy as cute, so on and so forth. He fell for it hook, line and sinker. And you.

Afterwards, he paid and held the door open for you. As any gentleman should, he wasn’t earning any points with you. Only one man could…

“Can I come see your show?” He asked, playing idly with your fingers.

You reached over and yanked one of the flyers from the nearby telephone pole, folded it in fours, and pressed your lips to the paper, leaving a crimson mark. You tucked it in the man’s shirt pocket.

“See you tonight. Tell ‘em that I sent you. Front row seats.”

He stammered out an agreement, looking flustered. With a wink, you were sauntering back down the sidewalk. The great big sun, orange and warm, was making its heavy, tired descent back into the horizon, and you quickened your pace. The last thing you needed was Elsa being upset at your disappearance.

As you made your way back to the field, you hummed the song that was playing in the diner and skipped. There was something to be said about the butterflies in your stomach, though you couldn’t discern whether or not they were for the fact that you were going to see that man in the audience. You suspected not. Jimmy Darling would be jealous and that was the thought that sent you.

Later that night, as the calliope played, your hands glided up over the curves of your thighs, and over your sides, gracefully, like a burlesque performer teasing a reveal. With one movement, you brought your leg up to your head, pulling it tight. A few oooh’s and chortling chuckles from men in the audience dotted the room. With floaty, delicate movements, you slid down into the splits, never losing your bright smile in the process. More pleased reactions and some applause. You crossed the stage in backbends, working the crowd as they cheered for you.

At the final backbend, you sunk to your stomach, laying on the floor. You were just nearly at the edge of the stage, and directly in front of you was your diner boy. His eyes were locked on you, enchanted, enrapt and obsessed like a dog staring at a fresh cut of sirloin. With a come-hither smile, you reached out and swept your hand along his jawline before tapping his chin with a single finger. You sucked in a deep breath and brought your legs forward, curving your spine around until your feet were planted on either side of your face.

The crowd gasped in horror, and little girls shielded their eyes, expecting to hear the dull crack of your spine as it snapped in two. But Diner Boy was fascinated, and still staring at you. He was looking at your body, the unnatural curve of it, and the way that you’d brought your cunt somehow closer to his face. As the seconds passed, he looked more and more like a dog to you, hungry and slobbering.

You smiled, scanning the crowd again. Your eyes drifted to the corner of the stage, where Jimmy stood against one of the support poles, arms crossed. At least, despite Maggie, he’d retained his habit of watching every performance you did – though this one, he didn’t look as delighted with. You could tell by the way the corners of his mouth were pointed down in an angry frown, his eyes narrowing at the little things you did to entice Diner Boy. You grinned at Jimmy, acknowledging him and tapped the toes of your shoes childishly against the stage before unfolding your body again.

The rest of your show finished without a hitch, and Diner Boy played his part very well. He took in every moment, and at one point, when you reached your hand out to him, he interlaced his fingers with yours. A nice touch. When you looked back to where Jimmy was, he was gone. You smiled inwardly, prideful and gratified by the way your devious little plan had gone.

As soon as you went off-stage, Jimmy grabbed you by your arm, gripping your bicep hard. Almost too hard. You winced. “What was that about?”

“What? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Casually, you yanked your arm from his grip and began to polish your nails on the fabric of your shirt.

“Cut it out! You know what. Who was the guy in the audience? You sure were payin’ him a lot of attention.”

His words, though loud, were a little slurred, his breath smelled of alcohol; you could tell that he'd taken a few gulps of liquid confidence before approaching you. You didn't mind; your father used to say that the truth came out with booze. You hoped that would remain true with Jimmy and he'd spill his guts to you.

“Just someone I met at the diner, Jimmy. Why are you getting so heated over him? You flirt with girls in the audience all the time.”

“It’s part of the act, doll! You know I have to act a certain way, I can’t –”

“Can’t what? Stand to love me?”

Jimmy stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging slack. His chest rose and fell with hot, angry breaths.

"Just because I can bend without breaking doesn't mean my heart can, Jimmy."

“Dollface, wait.”

“No.”

You pushed yourself through the flaps of the tent, storming off towards your trailer. Jimmy followed close behind, calling your name.

“Doll, c’mon, hang on a minute!”

“No, Jimmy. Maybe Maggie can hang on a minute .”

“Hey!” He bellowed, catching your arm again. You pressed your back against your trailer’s door, again, yanking it away from him and crossing them tightly across your chest. Your heart thudded against your ribs, deeply delighted at the fact that he was chasing you, pursuing you with an overbearing jealousy.

“What.”

“Can we just…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “...talk about this a second?”

“Sure.” You snapped.

Jimmy’s black coffee eyes scanned over you, searching your face for some semblance of softness. He found nothing but a tightly pressed line of lips and a cold gaze.

“What’s your problem, huh? I can’t flirt with other guys?” you finally asked, your stern voice shattering the awkward silence.

He shook his head, almost sheepishly. “I don’t like seein’ it. I know they don’t care about you.”

“And you do?”

Jimmy swallowed again, forcing the lump in his throat down. For the past several years, you’d been a constant in his life, by his side, and taking all his showman flirtations in stride. You’d never once fired back at him, and he thought that it was because you could care less about what he did or who he flirted with. Against the voices in his head, Jimmy pacified the anger in his gut by leaning forward to crush his lips against your red ones, tasting the sweetness of whatever gum you’d been chewing before the show.

He lingered there a moment before his conjoined digits made their way up your waist, gripping it softly. He waited for you to soften, to ease into his kiss, but you didn’t. You stood your ground, arms still pressed against your breasts. You intentionally filled your mind with thoughts of Maggie Esmeralda and how close he’d gotten with her. You thought of all the times that he flirted with girls in the audience, damn near kissing them with how far he’d lean off stage during his song.

“Baby, please…” You blinked. His low, smooth voice pulled you out of your hateful thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, you murmured, “I want to hear you say it, Jimmy.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

The muscles in his jaw fluttered as he clenched them, grinding his teeth hard. Jimmy spent his whole life being put on the spot, but it never got any easier. Especially not in front of you – the girl he’d fallen hardest for. He inhaled, puffing his chest out and mustering up all the confidence he had.

“I don’t like seein’ you flirt with other guys… ‘cause… I wish it was me.”

“Who’s jealous now, huh?”

“I am.” He looked at your lips, then back up to your eyes. A cricket started off somewhere in the field, and your attention flitted off towards it, only to have Jimmy’s large, warm hand bring you back. “Hey.”

He kissed you again, his strong tongue darting out to taste you again, his plush lips closing around your bottom lip to suck it gently. This time, an undulating warmth erupted deep in your core. You couldn’t help but melt into him and your arms relinquished their position, dropping heavily to your sides. Your fingers reach forward to claw at his shirt, just above the waistline of his jeans and instead latch onto his belt loops, pulling him closer at the hips.

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, swirling your tongue with his. Mingled with his personal taste, he tasted like warm honey and the liquor you smelled on his breath earlier. Not always admirable, it was something that you knew him to dabble in when his mother wasn’t looking. More often than not, he’d sneak some booze, saying it calmed his nerves before and after shows. You didn’t mind; in fact, you wondered what it would be like to have a drunk Jimmy, sloppy and unable to control himself around you.

“I’ve waited a long time for this…” you broke the kiss, breathlessly whispering over his lips.

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you blindly felt behind your back, where the handle of your trailer was digging into your soft flesh. You yanked it open, and took a fistful of Jimmy Darling’s shirt, tugging him inside.

It was like someone had fired a gun and Jimmy was a racehorse. He charged at you, his big, conjoined fingers wrapping tightly around your hips on either side, kneading the flesh like dough. He kissed you again, hot and in a hurry, like you only had a few minutes to do whatever it was you were going to do. With your hands on his pectoral muscles, you pushed him off gently, just enough to get a look at his face.

He, being mere centimeters from your breasts, wasn’t looking at your face. His attention was clearly elsewhere. A low, rumbling groan vibrated through his throat as he craned forward to kiss your skin.

“Jimmy, baby, slow down…”

Between feverish kisses to your neck and chest, he muttered: “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

He had you where he wanted you, after so long, and he wasn’t going to let that slip through his fingers this time. Jimmy muscled you backwards, urging you towards the small hallway where your bedroom was. He was all hard-working muscle. Having done set-up for so many years had lined his body in bulky strength, the kind of strength that you only get from hard labour. So, when he started guiding you backwards, you could do little to protest.

“Jimmy, my god, what’s the rush?”

“I want you bad, baby… bad.” As proof, he urged his hips against yours; the hot rigidness of his erection pressing into your hip bone. You let out a surprised mewl, and wrapped your arms around his warm neck, fingers slipping into his short-cut hair. His lips found yours again as the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. He kissed once and playfully, shoved you down. You bounced twice on the bed, looking up at him with a heavy, wanton gaze.

“I’m all yours, Jimmy Darling. All yours.”

Jimmy didn’t say anything, just sunk to his knees, his hands finding the stretchy hem of your sequined shorts. He pulled them down in a swift jerk, before moving right back up to your waist. Those striped tights were next. He rolled them down off your thighs and over your knees; which fell apart, exposing the already-damp satin of your underwear. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he worked.

He was in too much of a hurry to bother taking off your shirt, instead just gathering the fabric and pushing it up over your breasts, letting them bounce free. He may have been raised a gentleman, but he wasn't immune to the tantalizing sight of some tits -- especially when they belonged to a girl he'd been lusting over for months now.

"God damn, baby. Look at those."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling your cheeks grow hot at his compliments. You bowed your head, casting your eyes to the floor. You were so stern before -- what had happened? Silly question. You knew; he was undressing you in your trailer, all that confidence had melted away underneath his strong, fused fingers.

“Jimmy, promise you won’t flirt with Maggie anymore…”

He scoffed. “She’s nothin’ to me, honey. Gals like her are a dime a dozen.” He pressed his lips to your kneecaps before kissing his way up your thighs. You whimpered, your head lolling heavily back between your shoulders. You thought about revealing that she wasn’t a real fortune teller, but Jimmy’s mouth neared your cunt, and the thought disintegrated.

“...my god…” you breathed, your lids drifting shut. Jimmy nuzzled his face and lips against your soft mound, the hard bridge of his nose teasing at your soaked slit.

“You like that, baby?”

You nodded, again, whimpering. He pressed his fingers slowly against your soft mound, over the fabric. Feeling the puddle that had settled into your underwear made Jimmy clench his teeth, hissing loud through them. With one hand, Jimmy maneuvered your underwear down your thighs. Once they were off, he tossed them carelessly behind him – you’d find them a day later in your kitchen sink. Now exposed, you gazed at him sheepishly, for the first time since he'd started kissing you. His eyes fixated on the wetness that glistened in the low-light of the trailer.

"I had no idea..." he said, the pad of his thumb sweeping over your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe in lustful agony, aching desperately.

"No idea what?" You breathed.

"To be honest with you, that you liked me that much..."

You leaned forward, taking his chin into the palm of your hand. You stroked it gently, falling deep into his eyes. "Jimmy... I've wanted you since before I could have you."

You looked on at his face in admiration as the thoughts played out, the realization of what you meant dawning on him. He grinned his bright, lopsided grin and his large hands slid up your legs, caressing the outside of your thighs thoughtfully.

"Baaaby," he hummed before dipping his head down. You gasped, your lids drifting shut in ecstasy as you felt his breath rush over you -- you knew what was coming; one deep sweep of his tongue along the length of your cunt, between your folds to taste you, to savour your silken wetness. Burying his nose in your pussy, Jimmy alternated between using the strong tip of his tongue to flick at your sensitive spots and lapping at your clit with a flattened, thick tongue. Adventurous and hungry, he'd venture further down to get a mouthful of your sweet, heady wetness and would murmur how good you tasted into your cunt -- the vibrations of his voice made you shiver every time.

After a few minutes of this, you felt the inner core of your legs begin to shake every time he made contact with your clit, your tummy tightening in a warning clench. You reached forward, gripping his head on either side, yanking him softly off your cunt.

To your relief, he straightened up, chin glistening with your fluids. He swallowed you down, growling in satisfaction; the intimacy of tasting your lover's ejaculate was unparalleled, and when your eyes finally opened, they met Jimmy's lust blown ones. He was ready, and so were you.

"Fuck me," you said, nodding.

Jimmy made quick work of undressing, pulling his briefs down over his ass cheeks before he lined his red-tipped cock up with your leaking slit, bumping into the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times before he stuck you. He didn't ease in, just bottomed out and you let out a pleasurable yowl, tossing your head back at the sensation of being so full as his thick cock violated you, slipping against your slick walls. He found a rhythm, thrusting his cock up into you as deep as he could. You clenched hard around him, pulling a groan from deep within his chest. He pulled out, looking down at your sopping wet and now reddened cunt.

"'Hoh' my god, baby... do that again."

He gripped your hips hard, pulling you roughly onto his cock. You clenched again, swallowing him into you. The tip disappeared inside you, hot and leaking, and he held himself there, completely engrossed in the sensations. You clenched again, pulling him further in and Jimmy's head fell back, his hips bucking hard out of instinct. You both found a hurried rhythm, grinding and rolling against each other with voracious desire.

As he thrust into you, Jimmy watched you intently, holding onto you tight, his thumbs working your hips, kneading them in small circles. He looked starved for your image, the way that his eyes climbed from your hips to your breasts to your face and back down again. You let out a particularly ecstasy-ridden moan, and Jimmy dug his fingers into your hips.

Rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts, you look down, watching as his thick cock pumped in and out of you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, and Jimmy's dark eyes followed them as they moved.

"Huuuh... I'm gonna' lose it, baby... you feel so god damned good..."

"Give it to me," you coax, moaning deeply. His thrusts get faster, more feverish and uneven, and before you can say another word, his expression contorted, brows pulling together in pleasured agony. You felt the warmth of his cum as he filled you up with a few spurts, but kept pumping until it leaked out the sides, groaning deeply. Your orgasm raced towards you quickly after that, pulsing around him in a hungry grip.

With a heavy sigh, Jimmy pulled his softening cock from your cunt and flopped heavily onto the bed onto his back. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath, sweat streaming from every pore. Both of you, collapsed in lust, saying nothing, just enjoying the warm scent of sex that lingered in the air. Soon, your sappy gaze drifted from the ceiling to Jimmy. His fawn coloured hair clung to his forehead in sweaty clumps, his cheeks flushed. You'd done that. Made him jealous until he fucked you silly. You smiled inwardly, and adjusted your head on the small mattress.

"Turn the fan on, Jimmy, it's hot."

Jimmy leaned over, flipping the small metal switch. The fan rattled to life, blades spinning and washing your sweaty skin with a soft breeze of cooler air. He leaned back, enjoying the change in temperature.

"I meant what I said, dollface. Maggie's nothin' to me now that we're uh..."

You pressed your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss. "We're what?"

"Y'know..."

"Fucking each other like teenagers?"

"More than that, baby. More than that."

You weren't sure what that meant yet, but you weren't about to question a bit of it. You paused, furrowing your brows. You realized that Diner Boy had probably expected to see you after the show, but you hadn't shown. You hadn't even thought about him, far too busy with Jimmy's lips to even remember he was there.

"What?" Jimmy asked, concerned.

"I wonder if he was waiting for me..."

"I hope he was, and I hope he figured out real quick that you weren't comin'."

You kissed him again, inhaling his scent. Jimmy hummed into your lips, pulling you atop of him, his face bright with adoration.

He stayed in your trailer that night, and you two fucked each other, explored each other's bodies repeatedly. When the morning sun peeked through your lacy curtains and your lids peeled apart, a yawn ripping through your mouth... you wondered if Maggie Esmeralda saw that coming.

#Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x you #Jimmy Darling x reader #AHS Freak Show #ahs freakshow #myfics #requests

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deadbaguette · 3 months ago

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Crack AU treated seriously: Diomdes goes to Ithaca with a twist

So this would generally be your typical Diomedes going to Ithaca AU. Presumably after getting exiled (? Is there a better word for it?), instead of going to modern day Italy he goes to Ithaca under the impression that he’ll see Odysseus there. But, of course he doesn’t because The Odyssey is happening. The twist that makes NO SENSE and is just purely my want to see my platonic rarepair happen (Telemachus and Neoptolemus/Pyrrhus), and the twist is: for whatever reason, Neo is there with Diomedes. Don’t ask why because I could not explain to you a good reason to make this happen lmfao

Story elaborated below but it’s a little long be warned

I like the dynamic of Neoptolemus and Diomedes, mostly because in so many ways as soldiers Diomedes foils/contrasts Achilles but in so many ways parallels his son. Diomedes gets on begrudgingly with Neo, and I could go on a whole other rant on a different post about some fake dynamics/scenarios for just them, but the main point in this post is that Neo somehow SOMEHOW tags along with Diomedes. They reach Ithaca together and meet Penelope and Telemachus.

They greet Diomedes and Pyrrhus with good courtesy, but the elephant in the room of “hold on where tf is your husband??? he was so eager to go back to you guys???” is very present. One way or another Penelope explains the situation, that being Odysseus is absent/mia (much to his own dismay) and the suitors all trying to wed Penelope. Diomedes is sad obv (I’m not gonna go super big into the angst right now) but he tries to brainstorm with Penelope on solutions for her predicament. Since Odysseus was his closest friend (more than friend for me personally but u can interpret it as platonic if u want) and he knows that Odysseus would want what’s best for his wife and son, they think of a solution that can the guarantee of their safety as of now until they hear news of Odysseus. That solution is fake marriage bcs I am a bit of a sucker for that troupe.

But back to Neoptolemus because he’s here too, I want him to bond with Telemachus what with their dads not being here (one’s dead one’s absent). Neo is like way stronger than Telemachus so at first he thinks he’s a bit of a wimp (keep in mind they’re like both teenagers, Neo’s life was just kinda fucked up), but over time they get along better. Pyrrhus’ relationship with Odysseus is a little complicated, so while Penelope and Diomedes might share all the good stories/parts of Odysseus with, Pyrrhus got off to a slightly rocky start with him lol. What with Odysseus taking him away from his mom and basically all the war shenanigans (war crimes), Telemachus for the first time has a whole and humanized version of his dad. It’s more than what the suitors have said out of malice and jealousy, the things Neo has told him have opened up the trickery/cunning side of Odysseus more than he’d known before. He’s jealous that it seems like everyone knows more about his dad than him, but he’s grateful to have someone his age who would view Odysseus more like he would: an annoying dad/uncle??? (Neo vehemently objects to this, and Odysseus would too. “You’re not my fucking dad!!!” “Holy shit thank the GODS for that!!!”)

All in all, happy family. Odysseus returns home to Penelope and Telemachus, and now two surprise guests too. Telemachus has like 3 kinda parents now (Diomedes might be more like an uncle) and a kinda brother/friend/??? I love my little delusional found family. Odysseus is more than a little surprised, considering this IS Neoptolemus. Kid did a 180° in terms of personality in Troy and then ANOTHER 180° somewhere on Ithaca at some point. Or maybe more like a 90° turn in terms of personality, I imagine Telemachus is the most sane of the family and it is much to his dismay.

And when they all eventually die (Diomedes won’t ascend to godhood here I want him to be in the underworld with the rest of the fam) they’ll live happily in the underworld and Pyrrhus can catch up with his dad and mom.

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prncssie · 8 months ago

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caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you.

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.” parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.”

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one, it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny ��o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately.

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

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darkmodechaoticlight · 7 months ago

Text

The Deal

Evie had one deal with the Kings outside of the contract. And with Evies plan on gaining a reverse harem out of the kings and their little generals, she would do many things to solve her current no family no home crisis. The following would be the Kings (So far) reactions to her deal: NSFWISH, just mentions- no actual sex (for now maybe), Evies Fetish is Maiesiophilia (pregnancy fetish, but she is pregnant) so be warned, these devils will indulge her breeding kink.

SATAN Satan isn't surprised. He has had his fair share of deals that include first borns. But he already had his beloved daughter Maia. Does this mean Evie was offering to have another? More? Now that is a good idea. "I can't wait to see you carrying my child. Openly this time." The King of Wrath said with a sly smirk. This would be his first time enjoying the glow of pregnancy with her. Of course he would enjoy the act, but watching her build him another beautiful child, he couldn't fall harder in his life. Was this feeling love? And for the troupe on incoming children and herself to live on her own, he gifted her a home on a parcel of land. She had asked to live in Gehenna since Maia was born. And of course he obliged. MAMMON

Mammon was surprised. When she came into his office with the document, notarised and waiting for his signature. He looked up at her from his work and then down at the document. A clear smile lit up his face. His Mistress had decided to allow him the ultimate honour. He signed it in gold, and she followed in determined silence. He had to admit, the mere thought of children running around, each the most precious things in his life bar their mother did get the old hording devil's heart beating fast. "Shall we begin master?" He asked excitedly.

BEELZEBUB The King of Flies had already agreed to the contract the first time they fucked. He was addicted, He didn't need any sort of contract since all roads lead back to Evie at the end of a long time of wandering. Of course his clones kept her well bred and well fed when he was away. But she had perfected that gorilla grip that wrung each and every single drop of cum from him. And well what else in life could he ask for? "I hope this round takes," He said into her ear, content in their afterglow. LEVIATHAN Leviathan is a jealous man. He had been watching from his crystal ball in silence. Since the first kidnapping and subsequent memory invasion, it was like Evie was avoiding him. He wasn't only envious about the sex, but also indulging in her own fetish. He wanted a turn. So it took three years of Evie being in Hell for her to ask him. "You took your time," "I wish I could take more." She said witheringly. Fuck, he thought.

LUCIFER

Lucifer was blunt with his answer. Classically clinical. He does not want to risk her life and bodily functions to fufil a fetish. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed the tears his girth could deliver. But he was holding back. Of course he was. But the thought of it lingers in the base of his mind. Maybe when he decides he will bless her with a child.

"We will see, you already give me so much," He said with a honeyed rumble.

#what in hell is bad #whb #地獄のどこが悪い #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whatinhellisbad #whb satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #whb mc #whb lucifer

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kiame-sama · 2 years ago

Note

What does Baby Spider think of each member of the troupe, including Chrollo?

I also find it hilarious that Baby Spider has the upper hand for Little Spider's attention, compared to Chrollo.

Little Spider:

- Baby Spider adores their Mama more than any member of the troupe. They are a Mama's kid and loves how sweet their Mama is to them. If they have a choice of who they want to be with, it is their Mama. Baby Spider knows their Mama will always coo over and protect them and they adore the attention and affection their Mama gives them. Baby Spider loves their Mama more than anyone else and knows Mama loves them too.

Chrollo:

- There is something wrong with Papa and he is very strange, but not entirely sure why yet. Confused as to why Papa doesn't spend half as much time with them as he insists on spending with Mama. Starting to wonder if Papa even actually loves them based off of how he acts with mama and even gets possessive of Mama's time and attention. Baby Spider wants Papa to pay attention to them but that only happens when they are with Mama, so they intentionally monopolize Mama's time.

Pakunoda:

- Pakunoda is the favorite auntie because she has the most even temper with Baby Spider. Paku is the one who is most likely to be taking care of Baby Spider when Chrollo gets jealous and possesive. The main one who takes interest in Baby Spider's general education.

Machi:

- Nurse Auntie! If Baby Spider ever gets an owie, nurse auntie is the one to patch them up and make sure they are okay. Nurse Auntie acts like she is annoyed but the Baby Spider knows she actually cares a lot. She is actually happy to teach Baby Spider how to sew up injuries and how to treat them.

Shizuku:

- Forgetful Auntie. Baby Spider knows to stay around forgetful Auntie because she may forget Baby Spider should be with her and leave them places. She is no longer allowed to take Baby Spider to a playground or park unless one of the other spiders goes with them. She is most likely to play with Baby Spider at the playground.

Uvogin:

- Favorite Uncle. Nothing is more amusing than to ride around on Uvo's shoulders and play wrestle. Uvo is very good at tossing and catching Baby Spider even though it greatly distresses Little Spider to see the baby being thrown like a basketball. No civilian will try and mess with Uvo or the Baby Spider while they are together.

Nobunaga:

- Samurai Uncle. To Baby Spider, Nobunaga looks and acts like a samurai, so that means he must be a samurai. Baby Spider thinks he is fascinating to hang out with. Nobunaga is fond of the Baby Spider and entertains the Samurai idea.

Franklin:

- Horsie Uncle. Franklin will carry Baby Spider around in that pocket on the front of his overalls and is usually the one left to guard Baby Spider if someone ever tries to attack the troupe. Franklin is the safest one for the Baby Spider to be with whenever danger is near and can't be with Little Spider.

Kortopi:

- Uncle It. Baby Spider watched a lot of Adam's Family when Shalnark had to babysit. Baby Spider used to be afraid of Kortopi until seeing Cousin It and immediately made the connection of Kortopi being Uncle It. Kortopi is thrilled the Baby Spider is no longer frightened of him.

Bonolenov:

- Baby Spider actually likes playing pretend with Bonolenov and is more comfortable with him when his bandages are off. At first Bonolenov scared Baby Spider until the first time they saw him without the bandages as a newborn infant and showed no fear.

Feitan:

- Angry Uncle. The Baby Spider is intimidated by Feitan but knows that if they need anything he is the one to ask. Feitan isn't usually the one to watch Baby Spider because Feitan has a habit of being gruff and short tempered. He will watch Baby Spider if he needs to, but he will not be playing games with the Baby Spider.

Phinks:

- Nice Uncle. Phinks tries and somewhat succeeds at buying Baby Spider's love. Baby Spider is as emotionally manipulative as their Papa and understands Phinks is the one the buys what they want. The apple doesn't rot far from the tree and even as a toddler, Baby Spider knows how to get what they want and manipulate others to get it.

Shalnark:

- Techie Uncle. Shal will be the one who entertains Baby Spider most of the time. Any little gadget Shal gets his hands on will also be played with by Baby Spider. Shal also lets Baby Spider control the human puppets and thinks it is hillarious.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #hxh yandere #yandere chrollo #little spider #yandere hxh little spider

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i-heart-hxh · 11 months ago

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Hi!! What do you think is the relationship between Killua and Kalluto? Some say that Killua doesn't care about him, but I think his mother has too much influence on his perception of everything

Hello!

It's hard to say too much, as we haven't even seen a single interaction between them in the whole manga. I don't think Killua has even mentioned Kalluto in the whole series, so it doesn't seem like they're that close from what we've been provided so far. There's also no connection shown between them in the Zoldyck relationship chart (which I think is intended to be from Killua's perspective, so that's worth keeping in mind). My guess is, because Kalluto is so close with Kikyo and Killua tries to stay away from his mother because she's so smothering and annoying to him, Killua doesn't involve himself with Kalluto all that much, and it's possible Kalluto has some feelings about this.

Kalluto, however, is said to be jealous of Alluka, and has stated that he's trying to get his brother back, so it seems like he has some sort of business with Killua. I think there are a few possibilities for why he's seeking Killua, and it's entirely possible more than one could be true at the same time:

He is seeking some sort of validation from or better relationship with Killua. This is the only guess I have that explains the bit about him being jealous of Alluka and also him trying to find Killua, so I think it has the highest likelihood of being at least one of the factors.

He's close with his mother, so he may be seeking to bring Killua back for her sake, seeing as she is terribly upset about Killua leaving and wants to have him back. Perhaps he's trying to win further favor with her for some reason, or just generally trying to make her happy.

It could be something to do with the heir situation? Maybe he wants to take over as heir himself, whether that's even possible or not, and bringing Killua back is part of that plan? Or perhaps he's invested in the idea of Killua taking over as the heir for some reason, so he wants him to come back because of that?

Of course, it could be something else entirely as well--we simply haven't been given a lot of details on his motives yet, so all I can do is guess. We do know he's fairly confident and ambitious, though he gets humbled somewhat by realizing how much stronger the rest of the Troupe is compared to him.

With him currently on the Black Whale with Illumi and the Troupe, I think it's probable we'll get more insight on him coming up in the current arc, or at the very least more hints as to what he's up to. He's an interesting character and I certainly wonder what Togashi has planned for him!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #kalluto #killua #asks #anonymous #my posts

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bluegekk0 · 5 months ago

Note

Ik this question is like WAY ahead of the current timeline, but once the kids grow up to be adults will some of them have aspirations that lie outside of dirt mouth or even hollownest? Maybe some want to study abroad, help out other settlements, or simply just explore the world by themselves and become independent? Or maybe some are just fine chilling in dirt mouth. Very outlandish question in terms of timeline but I think a very important one when it comes to their character.

I haven't really thought about that before, it's one of those veeeery distant scenarios that I just don't really consider. But I do see them all staying in Hallownest, I don't think there would be anything outside that would call to them specifically and make them want to move out. At most, I imagine they would get their own houses in Dirtmouth or nearby, with maybe the exception of Milo which I'll mention later.

That said, I definitely think Asta would enjoy traveling with Grimm, I think she would share his old passion for seeing the world and experiencing new things. I can see her reaching the destination and just exploring everything while Grimm and the Troupe handle their business. But I don't think she would want to live outside of the borders, the familiar connection is very important to her, and considering their world doesn't have phones or video calls, it would be a much more drastic change than what she could experience in our modern times. Not to mention, the area outside of the borders is known to be very dangerous, so I don't see her traveling on her own. But the moment Grimm starts packing to leave for a performance tour or a ritual, she would always be there and ready, with a full backpack and excitement painted on her face.

Milo would not want to leave Dirtmouth, I think he would be happy staying close to his parents. After all, he does need their care, and I do think he would need it even as an adult. I can't imagine him living far away on his own, and I think he wouldn't either. He would be content spending his adulthood helping Vyrm in his workshop, I could see them expanding the business together, and I think Milo would be happy with that kind of life. If he ever decides to travel with Grimm, it would be to learn more things about his skill of choice, I don't think he would care much about traveling for the sake of it (I definitely think he would get homesick very fast, and I see him finding traveling in general to be overwhelming). Sure, maybe at times he would be jealous of his more confident and capable sister who isn't as scared of traveling, but I think he would ultimately find the close proximity to his parents to be comforting, and I think he would be happy staying with them.

For Lewk it wouldn't be the desire to stay close to his family as much as that he would simply grow very invested in Dirtmouth. He already shows a lot of interest in all of its matters, and I can imagine him growing to be a very important figure for the town. I think just like Asta he would like traveling with his father, but mostly for the purpose of learning more things about how towns and cities work, gathering resources and making connections. He'd definitely be the most social of the kids, with a very clear fixation on the town he was born in. Perhaps at some point he would study abroad, but he would eventually return home and stay there after finishing his education.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #save #asta #milo #lewk

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felixknow · 6 months ago

Text

felixknow's requesting rules + boundaries <3

General:

I will never ask for money for my time or writing. Do not give anyone money on my behalf. Instead, please consider donating to any of these trusted charities which are helping civilians in Palestine, and/or do your daily click for free.

I'm an adult who writes about adults. I don't want to interact with minors, and I'd prefer minors aren't interacting with my content, ESPECIALLY if I post something NSFW or suggestive of NSFW. If I notice a minor has interacted with my content, I will block them.

I have complicated feelings about writing about real people. I want to make it clear that I've never met SKZ or anyone who knows them. Everything I write is purely fictional and for enjoyment. I will never try to paint anyone in a bad light, therefore I won't take requests that could be construed as me accusing them of something bad. More details below.

Do not repost my content anywhere for any purpose. If I want my content on another website, I will put it there myself. This includes translations and podfics. Please do not do anything that involves reworking my content without asking for my permission.

What to know when requesting:

I reserve the right to ignore requests for any reason. I will politely post a "no thank you" message if I reject your request, unless you prefer for me to silently delete the request.

I pick whichever request is most inspiring at the time. Requests may sit around for quite some time before I get to them. It's okay by me if you send a follow-up ask to make sure I received your request!

I may not include every single aspect of your request. The more detailed you are, the more likely I am to accidentally forget something. For me, requests are like a collaboration. I'm blessed to have ideas shared with me, and I hope I can do them in a fulfilling way for the requester, even if I change some things.

Requests I like:

FAKE TEXTS!!!!!

I'll also consider drabbles, headcanons, theories, analyses, etc.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS I'll write it a million times I swear

Fluff (◕ ω ◕✿)

Any body size, any sexuality, any gender, any nationality reader

Texts with multiple people (example: bsf![skz] with bf![skz] and jealous![skz])

Silly troupes or fun gimmicks

Suggestive ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ including pics

Request boundaries:

Please be polite. If you demand that I write something for you, I will not do it. If you complain that I'm taking too long or you didn't like what I wrote, I will not react happily. You may even be blocked if you're rude/mean.

I will not write taboo/illegal topics like incest, rape, assault, murder, pedophilia, zoophilia, etc. If it's a fucked up request, I am not the person to go to for it.

I will not write character death in any form.

I will not write about members' IRL family, as this is a boundary that should not be crossed. SKZ are public figures but their family members are not. I also am not fond of "reader is member's sibling" troupes, but could potentially make it work if I so feel inclined.

Heavy topics can be difficult to write about. I wouldn't want to seem like I'm making light of something serious, so I may reject requests that I feel are too serious for my delusional fanfictions, partly because I don't want to get into deep analyses about how 8 random men would react to serious topics. I feel like I have no place to put words in their mouths. <3

masterlist | not accepting requests

#masterlist: boundaries #dividers by cafekitsune #masterlist: rules

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allie-writes · 6 months ago

Text

By the Bootstraps

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Relationships: Rolf & Shinon Other relevant tags: Character Study Word count: 2195 Language: English Read on: AO3

Rolf really just wants to make himself useful.

Written for @strayarrowfezine!

A podfic by @lumeha is available here!

There’s little finesse to the way Boyd’s axe chops into the training dummy.

It’s all brute force with him because he has the benefit of being big and strong, and even his cheap iron axe is a heavy weapon when compared to an arrow. Splinters of wood go flying, looking a bit like a spray of blood in the fading red sunlight.

Rolf watches his brother brutalise the dummy from his perch above the training grounds. There’s a sheen of sweat on Boyd’s face, and a big, satisfied smile on his lips. He wipes his forehead and swings his axe like it weighs nothing, then goes back to tearing into the wood again. Idly, Rolf takes a bite out of the sweet roll that Oscar had slipped him after dinner.

He isn’t jealous, per se—but his brothers are so much older than him, and stronger, and able to carry their weight around their mercenary troupe in a way that Rolf simply isn’t. If anything, he is only allowed to stay because of how well the two of them pull their weight. Even Mist, who sees equally as little combat as Rolf, manages to do more for everyone than him, what with all the laundry and mending and healing she does.

If it weren’t for Shinon’s surreptitiously teaching him archery, Rolf would not have anything to show for himself at all.

Boyd takes another swing at the dummy, right at where a person’s waist would be, and the wood finally gives. The top half goes flying, while the bottom part remains stuck on the rod it is affixed to. The wooden pseudo-torso clatters to the ground, and Boyd whoops in elation. Rolf shoves the remaining half of his roll into his mouth and jumps to his feet, praying that he might get away before his brother can notice him.

Maybe some late practice is what Rolf needs as well.

Dusk has fallen by the time Rolf returns outside, bow and quiver tucked discreetly into his side. The sound of Boyd’s irregular chopping has died down by now, replaced by the last bangs of pots and pans being stowed away in the kitchen and the cacophony of noises coming from inside the forest.

Rolf follows the song of crickets and owls and frogs into the trees, tall and pitch-black in the fading light. His feet know the way to the shooting range – the one hidden away, where Shinon takes him to practice – even as night begins to fall. The small clearing with the makeshift targets is wrapped in faint purple light and tall shadows.

It’s likely going to be too dark to see anything soon, so Rolf sets down his bow and fastens his quiver to his back. The targets fixed to the trees are still visible enough, even in the low light.

His bow feels heavy in his hand when he picks it back up, which is ridiculous. Rolf knows it to be lighter than the average iron bows everyone else uses, made with care by Shinon to account for Rolf’s lack of strength and – well, isn’t that a frustrating thought?

He pulls an arrow from his quiver and nocks it, fingers trembling. His eyes are terribly dry, and the roll from before sits heavy in his stomach. Before him, lined up ever so neatly, the targets, with all their little puncture marks from being struck by arrows so often, appear to be swaying in the shifting shadows. Rolf exhales shakily and draws back his bowstring, zeroing in on one target and taking aim.

The string snaps back into place as he lets go, and his arrow promptly burrows itself in the ground.

For a few seconds, Rolf just stands and stares at the arrow as it sticks out of the dirt. His chosen target is at least another two feet away from where it had struck the ground, like it had simply dropped out of the air before it could make it all the way to the target, and the whole thing feels a bit like a joke. Perhaps, on a better day, Rolf could have taken comfort in the fact that his aim had been pretty much perfect. But today isn’t a good day, and his stupid custom toy bow weighs nothing, and his weak little arms don’t even have enough strength in them to pull the bowstring back with the force needed to strike a target.

Rolf walks over to his arrow and yanks it out of the ground, because the head is barely damaged, and he might as well try again. His eyes sting, but he readies the arrow once more and makes sure to draw the string back as far as he can.

This time, the arrow strikes a tree trunk instead.

The thump of it rings like thunder in Rolf’s ears. Just beside the tree, the target he had been aiming for remains unpunctured.

If this were a skirmish, someone would be dead twice over by now. That is what bothers – no, terrifies – Rolf most. That, if the other mercenaries would allow him to come along on their missions, they would expect him to pull his weight, and he would fail them. That they would need to protect him and receive nothing in return. That Rolf would be nothing but dead weight to them. That someone might needlessly die for him because he wasn’t good enough.

The next arrow feels steadier in his hands than the one before. Rolf adjusts his stance and turns to a different target this time, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He readies his shot, his arms quivering with tension, and he tries, and misses again.

And again.

And—

The moss muffles the clattering as his bow hits the ground with all the force Rolf can put behind throwing it. His breathing comes ragged, and it takes all his willpower not to stomp his foot like a stupid, useless child.

Maybe this really is all he can bring to the table. Maybe he is bound to remain nothing but a petulant, unskilled liability best kept off the battlefield; an additional mouth to feed that can’t earn its keep.

He stares at his bow as it lies between blades of grass and rocks and dust—his bow, that Shinon had made specifically for him, for him to train and get better with. Shinon, who had gone out of his way to take him on as an apprentice. Shinon, who keeps training him, who must still see something in him, no matter his incompetence.

Shinon, whose bow and faith Rolf had just tossed in the dirt.

With a sigh, he picks it up, then goes to pluck his arrows from where they are lodged in everything but in his practice targets. The wind combs through the trees around him, and Rolf shudders.

And then, he heads home.

His evenings are spent much the same after that.

It’s the time of the year when the days are getting shorter again, and sitting out dinner is a small price to pay for an extra hour of daylight. Besides, Oscar holds back some food for Rolf to eat once he comes back, anyways; never mind that he always serves it with a concerned look and questions about Rolf’s wellbeing.

Mist, too, worries, and it feels entirely too patronising in a way that his brother’s concern doesn’t. She always gets under Rolf’s skin, so he takes to avoiding her altogether. It’s easy, seeing as Rolf is already sitting out meals.

And for all the trouble, his extra practice has yet to bear fruit.

Rolf is hopeful that the soreness in his arms and shoulder is a sign that he is finally building up some muscle. His aim has only gotten worse, but it might be temporary. After all, he can barely hold his bow without his arms shaking from the exhaustion and soreness. Earlier that day, Shinon had noticed as much during their regular training session and promptly called Rolf out on it.

It’s easy for Shinon to judge Rolf, of course. Shinon doesn’t have to worry about carrying his weight around their mercenary band. Unlikely as it seems given his natural talents, if Shinon ever started out in the same place as Rolf, it must have been so long ago that he can’t accurately remember how awful being well and truly useless feels.

His frustration makes Rolf yank back the arrow he had been readying with more force than necessary, and his shoulder gives out.

He drops his bow and arrow at once and promptly crumples to the floor.

That’s also how Shinon finds him some minutes later: kneeling in the dirt while clutching his injured shoulder, trying desperately not to cry.

“So this is where you’ve been running off to,” Shinon says, speech just this side of slurred. Rolf only sniffles in reply, refusing to look at him. Shinon sighs and steps closer. “I told you so, you know. That you’ve been overdoing things, and that you’d end up like this.”

That makes Rolf look up. “So what?” he says through his teeth.

Shinon raises his eyebrows, then frowns. “Why do I even take the time out of my day to teach you anything if you don’t bother to listen to me?”

“You don’t get it!”

“I do.”

Rolf glares at him. Shinon glares right back.

“You’ve been making an ass of yourself for a while now, Rolf. Your brothers are constantly whining about you running off instead of eating dinner. And what for? To stand around in the dark and struggle to hit a single target because you’ve been overtaxing your body?” Shinon drops to his knees. His hands come to settle on Rolf’s shoulders with measured gentleness. “And worst of all, you don’t listen to me when I tell you to lay it off to prevent something like this happening. Now let me see your shoulder.”

Reluctantly and wordlessly, Rolf does as he is told.

“Would you have kept going the second it stopped hurting?” Shinon asks as he smooths his hand over the smarting muscle. Rolf tries his hardest not to flinch.

“I… don’t know.”

Shinon lets out a noise of frustration. His touch becomes rougher for a second before he catches himself. “You pulled a muscle there. Pretty badly,” he says. His hands come to settle on top of Rolf’s shoulders again, and he levels Rolf with a glare. “If you keep going with an injury like this, who knows if your shoulder will ever be the same again. Do you understand that, Rolf?”

Numbly, Rolf nods and keeps his head down. He can’t stand to look Shinon in the eye anymore. “I just—Master Shinon, I just don’t want to disappoint you! You can’t be happy with me as a pupil, can you?”

“Not if you’re going to behave like this.”

“I mean it! I haven’t been making any progress at all! I rarely manage to hit any of my practice targets, and if I ever got into an actual fight, I would only be a burden to everyone else!”

A hush follows in the wake of Rolf’s outburst. Shinon’s face scrunches up in something akin to disgust.

“Well, good thing you’re not joining any fights then,” he says after a beat. “You are simply not ready for it.”

“And that’s exactly the point, isn’t it? I’m not carrying my weight!”

“Who said that you had to? Because that’s bull. You’re perfectly capable for a boy your age who has been practicing archery for as long as you have,” Shinon says, his face still stuck in a strange expression of distaste. “If you were a lost cause, I wouldn’t bother.”

Rolf can’t help the tear that escapes his eye at last. In the advancing darkness, Shinon doesn’t seem to notice.

“But,” Shinon goes on, “if you permanently injure yourself by practicing until your shoulders give out and your hands bleed, you will become a lost cause. And I don’t want that for you. Do you understand?”

Rolf swipes at his face with his good hand and sniffles. “Yes, Master Shinon. I just… I wish I could get better faster.”

Shinon sighs and pushes to his feet. He doesn’t offer Rolf a hand to pull him up, but goes to pick up his discarded bow instead. Weighing it in his hand, he considers Rolf. “I wasn’t born a master archer either, you know. But… well, I think I’ve trained you well enough to trust you to have my back, once I deem you battle-ready.”

Rolf’s heart jumps in his chest. “Really?” he gasps and moves to stand up, only to wince when his shoulder smarts at the movement.

Shinon smirks. “If you take the time to heal, first.”

“I promise,” he says, and crosses his heart with his uninjured hand. Another tear slips out, and he quickly wipes it away. “And… thank you.”

Shinon shrugs and fumbles for something with his free hand. A second later, he pulls out a hipflask and uncorks in one practiced movement. “Go see if they left any food for you,” is all he says.

Rolf obliges.

#fire emblem #fe9 #fire emblem path of radiance #fe por #tellius #rolf fire emblem #shinon fire emblem #word count: 2k+#zine piece #fanfiction

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the-himawari · 1 year ago

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A3! Troupe Event Translation - Journey to the Colours (9/11)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Kumon: … (I caused so much worry for not only everyone in Summer troupe, but also nii-chan and Director…) (I’ll give it my absolute all in rehearsals from tomorrow on to make up for it!)

*bzz, bzz*

Kumon: Yamaguchi? Ah! I forgot to reply to him! Hello!?

Yamaguchi: “Hello? You haven’t replied since earlier. Did something happen?”

Kumon: Sorry! I was kinda all over the place… But don’t worry, I watched the last match of your high school life!

Yamaguchi: “I know because I saw you. I didn’t get a reaction back though.”

Kumon: I said I was sorry!

Yamaguchi: “So, how was it?”

Kumon: Eh? Erm, well… you were really cool out there! It was like the culmination of all the practice you put in for three years. There’s no way you wouldn’t look cool having the time of your life like that after everything you’ve done!

Yamaguchi: “Geez, what’re you talking about?”

Kumon: Also, I remembered the time I was part of the baseball team and it felt so nostalgic. I felt kinda sad and jealous seeing all of you playing in the game together. That fist bump you did at the end—you also did that in the past when we lost a game a long time ago, right?

Yamaguchi: “Ahh… right, I did do that, huh? It just came back to me.”

Kumon: Just now!? Geez, dude~. I thought you were encouraging me.

Yamaguchi: “…Well, to be honest, I wanted to play as a battery together with you until the very end, too.” “But it’s not like I won’t be able to play baseball with you anymore. Even now, we play catch and casual games together, don’t we?”

Kumon: —Yeah, that’s true! Let’s keep playing baseball together from here on out, ‘kay, Yamaguchi!

Yamaguchi: “You know it.”

Kazunari: …Kumopi looks happy.

Tenma: It looks like his fog has been lifted.

Muku: Yeah. I’m so glad.

Yuki: We’d be in trouble if our lead was a wishy-washy guy.

Misumi: I can’t wait for our rehearsals starting tomorrow~.

-pause-

Tenma: “Tch, another annoying guy is here.”

Muku: “Hmph. It doesn’t matter how many people come, they’re not match for us!”

Kumon: “I’ve been searching high and low for you! You can’t deceive people!”

Juza: Just now, you should keep your center of gravity a lil lower—.

Kumon: …Like this? Woah, it’s a lot easier to do now! Thanks, nii-chan!

Juza: It’s ‘cause you practiced. You’re movin’ better than before in general.

Kumon: Ehehe! Nii-chan complimented me~!

Muku: Good for you, Kyu-chan!

Banri: Kumon’s got good reflexes to begin with, so he’s quick to get the hang of it.

Izumi: That’s true. It’s great it looks like he’s able to focus now and get back on track.

-pause-

Kumon: Hmm…

Kazunari: What’s up, Kumopi?

Kumon: I’m trying to come up with a title for the show~. Director told me the title is gonna be finalized soon, so I should let her know if I have any good ideas.

Kazunari: Gotcha~. I gotta fix the flyer design soon too. So, you got any ideas?

Kumon: I’ve wracked my brain, but…

Kazunari: The Tale of The Wicked Heavenly Dragon Son Goku’s Adventure… Extreme West Quest… those titles would totes suit you, don’tcha think~!

Kumon: Well, I tried thinking of words that are phonetically similar, but nothing’s clicked yet~.

Kazunari: Phonetically similar, huh~… AH! In that case, how does this sound?

-pause-

Kumon: This happens every time, but we got the show in the blink of an eye, huh?

Tenma: When rehearsals got into full swing, it felt like we were just blasting through it.

Muku: Opening day is nerve wracking no matter how many times I experience it. Are you holding up, Kyu-chan?

Kumon: I feel nervous, but I’m also super psyched!

Kazunari: Kumopi’s so dependable~!

Yuki: You were ridiculously pale during your first leading show.

Misumi: Now he looks raring to go~!

Muku: You’ve grown a tremendous amount compared to back then.

Kumon: Ehehe.

Izumi: Everyone will be fine. Just perform as you did during rehearsals. Be careful not to injure yourselves, alright?

Kumon: Got it!

Tenma: It’s the overly eager guys like that who are the most at risk.

Yuki: Takes one to know one.

Tenma: No one asked!

Kumon: Ahaha!

Izumi: (A lively color that’s bright enough to blow away all their nerves—this is what you call Summer troupe…)

*flashback starts*

Izumi: …”Journey to the Colours”?*

Kumon: Yeah! Kazu-san came up with it!

Kazunari: I got it from Kumopi’s idea to use a phonetic equivalent~. Our costumes and the visuals for the world setting in our upcoming show are more colourful and vibrant than usual, aren’t they? I hope our play will also overflow with brilliance, just like Sanzo’s journey with his friends~!

Tsuzuru: …Great idea. Being highly saturated with colours suits Summer troupe.

Izumi: Yeah. Let’s go with that!

*flashback ends*

Izumi: (I’m glad we came up with a title that fits Summer troupe perfectly.) (May everyone in the Summer Troupe shine even more vividly on the stage on their opening day—.)

Manager: It’s almost showtime~!

Kumon: Group huddle, guys!

Kazunari: Okay~.

Kumon: Everyone, sorry for causing you so much worry this time! Since it was my second time playing the lead role, I thought that I had to work hard and show everyone my best side. But I know I ended up causing unnecessary trouble. I felt lost and depressed when I remembered my baseball team days… But I realized once again that the reason why I’m able to stand on stage with such confidence is because I have all of you. Because I'm with you guys, I feel like I can do anything. We’re definitely going to make this how a success! LET’S GO! TO TENJIKU!

Kazunari: YEAH!

Muku: Yeah!

Misumi: LET’S GO!

Yuki: He’s hyping us up like a baseball team, huh?

Tenma: It feels like we’re going to Nationals again.

-pause-

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “Going on a journey with someone you don’t get along with is hell…”

Goku [Kumon]: “Ehh? You think so? Travelling is fun no matter who you’re with!” “Ah, it says they’re holding a festival right now. I wanna go!”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “Listen, Goku. This is an ascetic journey to Tenjiku in order to study sutras. It is not a sightseeing trip.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Since I’ve come all the way here, I’d like to stop by a town a little further south.” “I heard there’s a popular sweets shop. They have fluffy pao cakes.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “No festivals and no sweets shops. There will be too many women. It’s dangerous. I’d much rather pass through the mountain range over there where we’re bound not to meet anyone.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “If a regular human like our master climbed such a steep mountain, he would freeze to death.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “…That’s enough. I will head to the temple lodging where we are staying today by myself.”

Goku [Kumon]: “That’s too dangerous! Master, if you travel alone, you’ll get gobbled up by demons in no time.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “*Sigh*…”

Goku [Kumon]: “Since everyone wants to go somewhere different, why don’t we take turns and visit all of them in order?”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “What a pain.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “I’m absolutely against going to a festival or sweets shop.”

Goku [Kumon]: “Now, now. You might have fun if you go! Let’s go, let’s go!”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “My sweets shop will be first on the list then. I heard there’s a huge line, so we have to go early tomorrow morning.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “*Sigh*… good grief. I am not the least bit interested. But I suppose I must…”

-pause-

*jumps down*

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Older brother, is that human…?”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “There’s no mistaking it. He’s the spitting image of Genjo Sanzo’s portrait.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “I wonder if Sanzo will be tasty…”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “They say eating him will prolong your lifespan, but I wonder about the taste. Well, we’ll know once we devour him.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “I can’t wait!”

*dream starts*

Gojo in his previous life [Misumi]: “Enough already. This is different than what you’ve been saying up until now.”

Hakkai in his previous life [Yuki]: “I can’t go along with your selfish whims anymore, Goku.”

Goku in his previous life [Kumon]: “Eh~? But it’s more fun this way.”

Gojo in his previous life [Misumi]: “I heard you were going to create a world with only women, so I went along with your plan.”

Hakkai in his previous life [Yuki]: “And I jumped on board because you said that all the food in the world would become extremely spicy gourmet food I love if I went along with you.” “I’m done here~!”

Gojo in his previous life [Misumi]: “I’m out too.”

*walks away*

Goku in his previous life [Kumon]: “What the hell… I can’t help it, you know? I changed my mind.”

Heaven’s voice: “Goku… you have manipulated those around you at your own fickle whims and you have thrown the world in to chaos.” “You cannot return to heaven until you repent.”

Goku [Kumon]: “HUH!? Why!? No way! I just did what I thought was fun! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

*dreams ends*

Goku [Kumon]: “*Yaaawn*…”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “You look sleepy.”

Goku [Kumon]: “I had a weird dream.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “It’s just before dawn. Anyone would be sleepy. You said there’d be a wait, but this is one hell of a line. Where is the store?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “There’s still 5 hours before the store opens, but look at this queue…”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “This isn't even the worst. When it’s bad, there are people who pull two all-nighters.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Did you say two? You mean there are people who will stand in line here for two days straight?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “How dreadful… Will we have to endure this for two whole days…?”

Goku [Kumon]: “I’m tired.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “Goku. You’re the one who originally said you would go everywhere the others wanted to go, remember?”

Gojo [Misumi]: “You said we might have fun if we went.”

Goku [Kumon]: “Well this isn’t fun! It’s boring. I wanna go somewhere else!”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “How selfish…”

Girl A: “Excuse me. Can we take a picture together?”

Girl B: “Are you a celebrity, mister? You look so cool!”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Err… n-no, I’m…”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “And as usual, he’s unnecessarily popular with the ladies~.”

Goku [Kumon]: “Hey, hey. Can I head to the next place already?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “You threw in the towel way too fast. You’ve only been in line for a few minutes.”

Goku [Kumon]: “I’m at my limit! See ya~.”

*runs off*

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “Wait, Goku. Simply acting on your own like that—.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Master, anything you say to Goku will go in one ear and out the other.”

Girl C: “Please take a selfie with me!”

Girl D: “What’s this line for? Is it to take selfies with that guy? I’ll get in line too!”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Would you look at that~. A new line has formed in front of Gojo.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “S-sorry… I’ll just… head back to the temple first…”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “And now Gojo…”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “You guys sure lack grit~. If you just wait a little longer, you’ll be able to eat an exquisite pao cake full of cream.” “The cream in the pao cakes are threefold: they contain honey, condensed milk, and chocolate.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “That’s… going to be too sweet for me, don’t you think? I’ll just get a drink.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Once you enter the store, there’s a sign that says you have to order one pao cake per person.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “…My apologies, but I am going to head back to the temple first.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Huh~! Even you, Master~?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “If our palates don’t match, then we won’t be able to share a meal together…”

-pause-

*door opens*

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “Phew… yes, the temple really is the most relaxing place of all.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “You are right about that… there’s not a single woman here…”

Goku [Kumon]: “So, what should we do? Baseball? Soccer? BBQ?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “What are you thinking in a place like this? This is a spot where one calmly faces their own selves.”

Goku [Kumon]: “Aww, that’s boring.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “You should read one of the scriptures too.”

Goku [Kumon]: “You’re just saying that because you like scriptures.” “There’s no point just reading books like that. We gotta get out and see the great wide world!” “Come on, let’s all go play together!”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “You’re going to receive bad karma if you speak about scriptures like that—.”

Heaven’s voice: “You know too little of the outside world. While it is impressive that you're so diligent about studying, you are simply clinging to your books.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “—Please leave me be and go on your own. I will stay here.”

Goku [Kumon]: “Eh~! What about you then, Gojo?”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Of course I am going to say with Master. As a disciple, that’s only natural.”

Goku [Kumon]: “I know it’s because you won't get caught up by women here! Ugh, whatever. I’m going alone then. You guys are lame!”

*runs off*

Gojo [Misumi]: “How dare he talks to Master that way? Good grief.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “What in the world was that voice earlier…”

Gojo [Misumi]: “What is the matter?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “ …Oh, no. It’s nothing.”

-pause-

Goku [Kumon]: “I really don’t see eye to eye with those guys, huh~? Festivals are definitely more fun.”

*shoots*

Goku [Kumon]: “Ah, you ladies are amazing at shooting the targets. Here, have some juice.”

Lady A: “Thanks!”

Lady B: “Do you wanna try shooting too?”

Goku [Kumon]: “Don’t mind if I do! Target practice is a staple at festivals, after all~.”

*shoots*

Lady A: “Hey, you’re a pro at this!”

Goku [Kumon]: “Is there anything you want? Which one should I aim for?”

Lady A: “If you’re asking, then that plushie over there!”

Goku [Kumon]: “A plushie, huh?”

*shoots*

Lady B: “Amazing! You hit it right on the mark!”

Goku [Kumon]: “Here you go.”

Lady A: “Thanks! Shall I treat you to something as thanks?”

Goku [Kumon]: “If you insist, let’s go to karaoke.”

Lady B: “Are you by yourself? Did you not come here with friends?”

Goku [Kumon]: “No worries, no worries! I don’t get along with them at all~. Let’s hang out ‘til morning~.”

-pause-

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Welcome. Table for one? Do you have any companions—.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “For one.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “…Please take a seat over here.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “I finally made it into the store~. I’ll have the special, fluffy, three-layered pao cake, please!”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Coming right up.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Gojo and the others should’ve came too. Too bad, so sad~.”

-pause-

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Apologies for the wait. Here’s a special, fluffy, three-layered pao cake. Please enjoy it while it’s hot.” (I didn’t expect Sanzo to be absent, but the less obstacles the better. Now quickly, with one bite of the poisoned pao cake…)

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Don’t mind if I do—.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: (Nice. With that, it’ll be one down for the count.)

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Ah! Hold on, I forgot something important. I have to take a pic and post it to inste.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “—“

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Mmm, which angle… ah, this might come out well. I think this angle is more aesthetic…”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Dear customer, please dig in alread— Ah, no. Shall we take the picture together?”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “I’m good. Hmm. The position of the fork and knife are a bit off…

Ginkaku [Muku]: (Oh my god. Hurry up and eat it…)

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Wait a minute?”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “—” (Did he figure out who I am?)

Hakkai [Yuki]: “The pao cake on the table next to me is adorable! It looks tasty~. Which menu item is that?”

Customer beside him: “This one? It’s the deluxe, fluffy-wuffy, four-layered pao cake.” “I’ve always wanted to try it, so I rode on horseback for four days straight…”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “It was worth coming, wasn’t it~!”

Customer beside him: “Totally! Ah, would you like to try a bite?”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Are you sure!? Alright, I’ll share some of mine too.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Um—”

Customer beside him: “Thanks so much! I also wanted to try the special one, but I didn’t think I could finish everything myself.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “The best part of eating desserts is when everyone shares a bit of their own, after all~.”

Customer beside him: “I feel you~. Alright, let’s eat!”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Ah, hold on—"

Customer beside him: “Urk—"

*collapses*

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Eh!? Are you okay!?”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Tch.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Wait, are you… a demon!?”

*transforms*

Ginkaku [Muku]: “I guess the jig is up. It's a bit of a hassle, but I suppose I’ll silence him with brute force.”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “How dare you interrupt our happy dessert time… I'll teach you that grudges over food are terrifying.”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Hmph. Shut it, piggy. I’ll turn you into char siu in no time!”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “HA!? Don’t get carried away just because you look a little cute.”

*swords clash*

Ginkaku [Muku]: “—Geh. This char siu is surprisingly good…”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “DON’T CALL ME CHAR SIU!”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “If that’s the case… AH! IT’S THE MIRACLE, FWUFFY, SEVEN-LAYER PAO CAKE ON THE SECRET MENU!”

Hakkai [Yuki]: “Huh, what’d you say? Where?”

Ginkaku [Muku]: “Take this!’

*slashes*

Hakkai [Yuki]: “—Urgh.”

*falls*

-pause-

Gojo [Misumi]: “Why don’t you take a rest, Master?”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “There’s no need to concern yourself with me.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Or would you like to go to the festival that Goku was talking about? Although, I have chronic hay fever so I’d have to stay back—”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “Festival…”

Heaven’s voice: “You should travel to Tenjiku in the west. Go see more of the outside world.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “No, I’m okay as well.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “I see! If you say so! Very well then.”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Hello~? Somebody?”

Gojo [Misumi]: “—. It sounds like there’s a woman’s voice outside.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “…”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Master? Master? Right, when Master starts reading scriptures, he doesn’t register the sounds around him…”

-pause-

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “You there~. Save me~.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Um, me? …Err, you see… Ah. Oh, no, the pain! I SudDenlY GoT an UpSeT StoMaCH…!”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Then you there, monk~. Please save me from my misery~.”

Gojo [Misumi]: (? She gave up just like that…?)

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Oh, monk~.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Master, please be careful! I suspect she is no ordinary woman!”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Tch. How did you know?”

Gojo [Misumi]: “I have never once met a woman who does not approach me!”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Aren’t you embarrassed saying that yourself…?”

Gojo [Misumi]: “It’s the truth, so what do you want me to do! Just to be clear, I’m not bragging or anything!”

*transforms*

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Well, whatever. It was the right call to station one of us here. It seems Ginkaku got the short end of the stick.”

Gojo [Misumi]: “Master, please run!”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Not on my watch!”

*slashes*

Gojo [Misumi]: “Geh—”

*falls*

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Hmph. Child’s play.”

Heaven’s voice: “Books are not everything.”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “…I…”

Kinkaku [Tenma]: “Now then, how should I cook Sanzo?”

Gojo [Misumi]: “MASTER!”

Sanzo [Kazunari]: “—!!”

---

*The original Japanese title is a play on words. Original: "最遊記" (saiyuki: Journey to the West). Summer troupe's play: "彩遊記" (saiyuki: the '彩' kanji being read 'sai' and meaning colourful, brilliant)

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#a3!#a3! translation #hyodo kumon #act! addict! actors!#journey to the colours #SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!!!

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