#I thought we all had a joint agreement that none of us found our life partners even after turning 18 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Secrets ~ 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Bruh, other series are still going. At least one update a week for existing series in future, I promise! Probably more.

This was semi-inspired by The Princess Diaries but obviously we’re not going highschool.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You found it hard to focus on the lecture. You copied the slides without processing the words. You couldn’t tear your mind from the unusual stranger. The one who had slipped from the room not ten minutes earlier. The one no one else seemed to notice; even the professor as she outlined the fall of the Roman Empire.

You did because you were early every week. You sat in the same seat, pulled out your notebook and pen, and put your phone on silent. You’d worked too long to screw this up. Years of saving and scrounging just to pay the application fee, bursaries awarded for your volunteer work and nearly forgotten extracurriculars from high school.

So, you noticed. The man sat in the back row with not a possession before him. Silent, discerning, and to be frank, a bit too old for the student body. Even you, after several years away from academics, thought so. You used the reflection in your phone screen to watch him and when he stood and left without cause, you angled it after his departure.

Perhaps he had come to the wrong room. Or maybe he had got the wrong time. He could be an older student or a guest speaker. Whatever he was, he was gone and you needed to focus. You didn’t have much time outside of class to revise your notes. Between your job at the campus bookstore and your intern position at the museum, you didn’t have time for anything beyond a few hours sleep.

You packed up as the lecture came to an end. Tuesdays, Professor Halren went over the week’s material and Thursdays you had a class discussion on the assigned articles. Basic, simple, but at least eighty pages of reading a week. You climbed the steps between the rows of tables and passed through the upper doors. The east entrance down the rear stairwell was the quickest exit.

You tossed your bag in the passenger seat of your crummy used Honda, parked in front of the burger joint several blocks away from campus parking. It cost you more to park on-site than it did for the beat-up contraption itself.

You drove to the museum and got out, your lanyard around your neck denoting you as a volunteer. You usually worked the help desk or handed out pamphlets for upcoming tours. Most of the time it was quiet enough for you to study in between visitors.

Sheila was the curator on duty that night. She kept to her office, saying she trusted you to direct the rare patrons who arrived on a Tuesday night. As expected, it was dead. You wandered around with textbook in hand, occasionally looking up to check that you were alone.

There was a man by the chart of Greek gods and their relations. A spiderweb with no end. You closed your book and quietly set it down on the nearest bench as you kept an eye on the man. It was him, the one from the lecture hall. A frightening coincidence. He leaned closer to the diagram then turned away, walking, no marching along the wall and rounding the corner into the next section.

Your heart was beating; in confusion and fear. You followed, carefully not to let your shoes click as you did. As you reached the next corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. You continued on, around corner and corner, on and on, looking up and down the walkways. He was gone.

You came back to the bench where you left your textbook. You glanced around one last time and opened it. Behind the cover was a ribbon, a tricade of red, white, and blue, a star emblazoned three-quarters of the way up embroidered in gold and silver. You’d seen it before but none so new as this.

You held it up and felt it between your fingers. You closed the book again and tucked it under your arm. You went to the next wing; medieval history. You walked along the timeline of European kingdoms, below each was a display of royal families of each.

The same ribbon, aged and frayed, laid beneath the kingdom of Astrania, marked by the house of Rogers. A long storied bloodline thrust in and out of power by civil wars and politics well into the twentieth century. A country that stood still, one of the few who still lauded a monarch, as famous as the Windsors in England and beyond. The last vestiges of long lost era.

You shoved the ribbon in your pocket. It was likely a souvenir from some commodified tour of the country. A forgotten novelty sold for pennies and shoved into a used textbook. You shrugged and headed back to your usual spot among the ancient civilizations. Strange things happened. That was life.

👑

You spent your few hours before midnight writing up your rough draft for Life and Death in Ancient Greece then finally crashed. You slept on your back, uncomfortably; a heavy, exhausted sleep. You woke to voices. Your mother’s and another. One you didn’t know.

You checked the time, it was barely seven in the morning. You grumbled as you sat up. Your mother’s tone set you on edge as her voice rose. You stood and crossed to the door. You turned the handle slowly, listening through the crack of the door as you eased it open.

“You get out of my house.” She snarled. You’d never heard her sound so vicious. “I am not that person anymore. I never was.”

“You can hide behind a name,” The deep voice replied evenly. “It doesn’t change your real one.”

“My father is dead, his name died with him.” She hissed. “I won’t tell you again to leave.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll call the police, asshole.”

“I’ve been sent here under the banner of diplomacy, what are they gonna do?”

You stepped out as the argument continued, your mother growing angrier as you tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed a frying pan from the dish rack as you stopped in the doorway and she waved it at the man standing on the other side of the table.

“I’ll just have to make you,” She warned. “Now go--”

“Mum,” You rubbed your eyes. “What’s going on?” You looked to the man as he turned to look at you. It was the same man from the day before. You recoiled and pressed yourself to the wall. “Who is that?”

“No one. He’s leaving.” She edged around the table and drew back the frying pan.

He didn’t move. She swung and he caught the pan as his palm deflected it away from his head. He wrenched it away from her and tossed it away.

“Sit down, your highness,” He glared at your mother as he clanked the pan against the table.

You frowned and looked at your mother. Her eyes glinted at you and she shook her head.

“You will not tell my daughter what to do,” She scowled. “Not in my house.”

“You can send me away now, but I’ll be back.” He looked around the kitchen. “Looks like you can afford a fine lawyer, indeed.”

“Lawyer?” Your mother spat.

“There’s a contract, Princess,” He sneered.

“There is no kingdom left. No crown, no throne.” Your mother neared and grabbed your wrist, drawing you to her. “My daughter does not belong to anyone.”

“Your own father signed the accord. We paid our dues, even after his fall, we expect you to fulfill your end of the contract.”

“My father is dead,” She pushed in front of you, shielding you from the man. His square jaw twitched and his blue eyes glimmered defiantly.

“As his heir, you would acquire his responsibility. She is his first born granddaughter.” The man asserted.

“She has no title.” Your mother insisted. “You can see we have no wealth, no holdings. We are displaced; we are common.”

“Princess Karissa of Ecklun,” The man addressed your mother, “Her daughter, Duchess of Brey. You needn’t land to uphold your titles… and your obligations.”

“The contract is old. Outdated.” Your mother countered. “There are other duchesses. Real ones.”

“The contract is legal still, it has been upheld to this point and there is no clause for annulment. Unless of course you have the funds to buy out the agreement.” He challenged. “Fifteen million, with interest.”

Your mother was silent. He hand squeezed your wrist.

“I never received any of these payments you claim to have made,” She said.

“In a trust, as stated in the contract, to be accessible upon the day of marriage.” He declared. “If you insist, however, I can return with my legal council… and a military escort.”

Your mother let out a long breath. She released you and shakily pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit,” She gestured you forward and drew another chair out. “I’ll entertain your… discussion.”

You stepped forward and sat and she did too. The man across from you lowered himself into another chair and set down his briefcase on the floor. He reached inside and drew out a bundle of papers. He slid them across to your mother.

“If you’d like to look over the terms,” He smirked. “You’ll see all is as I said.”

“He couldn’t find another bride?” She spat as she ignored the contract.

“Not legally.” He insisted and looked at you. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce myself, your highness. James Barnes, I am a representative of the Astranian court.”

“I don’t--” You blinked. “I don’t understand what’s--”

“Yes, apparently your mother has created a convincing ruse here in this… slum,” He sighed. “What do you know of your grandfather?”

“Don’t talk to her.” Your mother snipped. “Talk to me.”

“She must know--”

“I will explain. That is my responsibility. My right.” She sneered and grabbed the papers.

She flipped the first page, then the second, she continued as she hastily read through it. You peeked over her shoulder but she kept turning away to block you. When she finished, she turned it face down.

“You signed it, Princess,” The man said.

“I was sixteen.” She said. “I was still a child.”

“You were a married woman.” He returned.

“A girl forced into a ring.” She slapped the paper. “And you would have me do the same to my daughter?”

“You already did,” He said plainly. “And she is older. Quite a few years, in fact.”

“It took you years to find us,” She grinned. “You think you’ll be as lucky again?”

“You are being watched. You have been watched.” He pushed his shoulders back. “We have waited long enough.”

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” You said.

The man, Barnes, looked at you. Appalled.

“I will,” Your mother squeezed your arm. “Mr. Barnes.” She turned back to him, her head held high. “Might you allow me some time to prepare?”

“To run?” He challenged.

“If we are being watched as you say, that should not be an issue,” She sniffed. “You must understand the circumstance.”

“I do understand your negligence,” He raised a brow. “One day. That is all I can allow you.”

He left the contract and stood. He took his briefcase and nodded to the table. “A copy for your records.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and flicked it onto the document. “My information should you require it.”

He bowed his head and turned to leave you. The door opened and closed loudly as he strode out the back door. You sat, perplexed, and reached for the contract. Your mother caught your hand. She turned to you and drew your hand back with her.

“Honey,” She said softly. “I need you to listen to me. Just-- don’t talk, just listen.”

“Mum, I--”

“You’re going to hate me. I know that hate, I felt the same for my own father. I would not blame you for hating me even more than that.” She said grimly. “But please, there is much I need to tell you. That I should’ve told you before.”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand.” You sputtered.

“So just listen,” She pleaded. You nodded and your stomach bubbled nervously. “You’ve heard of Ecklun? You were always so fond of history.” You confirmed and she continued on. “And Astrania. Occasional allies until the dissolution of the former… but that all doesn’t matter.”

Your mother hung her head.

“My father knew the tide was against him. He tried to rally his reinforcements, he made promises to those he thought could help. He was the king, you see? He was dethroned, we were all thrown out of the country. I tried to… stay with him. Tried to make him move on but he wouldn’t. So after I had you, I left. Your father didn’t want to let go either and he refused to come with me.”

She touched her cheek and shuddered.

“It was all gone so I thought that meant it was over. Everything. The promises, the debts.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to start over. For you. But… Your grandfather promised you to the heir of Astrania to fund his personal guard. The same that ejected us from our home.”

She twined her fingers together then pulled them apart. She gulped before she found her voice again.

“That heir is now in power,” She could barely look at you. “And you… you are to be his wife.”

“I-- no, they can’t-- it--”

“I thought I could stop it. I didn’t think they’d want it still but-- I always hated how backwards it all was. Bloodlines, lineage, privilege… It was all so ridiculous.” She huffed. “I-- tried. I failed.”

“You ran once, we can--”

“That man found me. I am not foolish to think he did not come with back-up. I have seen what happens when you undermine others. I have seen the ugliness of it. I can’t say what’s worse; to let them have you or to refuse and suffer further. You don’t know how-- I was stupid enough to think I could ever outpace them.”

You gaped at her. Shocked, angry, sickened.

“And now I can’t stop them.” She uttered.

“You didn’t tell me,” You breathed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry--”

“I have school, work...I… No, they can’t. I have a life!” You stood and the chair wobbled.

“Honey, please,” She got to her feet. “I know how it feels. Trust me. My father, he did the same--”

“So what? Family tradition?” You scoffed. “They can’t make me. I’m staying. I’m going to school, I’m working. I’m not--”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I won’t go!” You shouted.

“They’ll make you.”

“How?”

She looked at you. Her face was grim, her wrinkles more apparent than ever before. She didn’t need to say.

“They can’t--”

“They’ll find a way.” She muttered. “They always do. I’m so so sor--”

“So I’ll make them drag me,” You said. “I’ll fight it.”

“It’s treason--”

“It’s the twenty-first century!”

“Not there. It’s not the same as here. There’s no one to stop them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You hit the table and swore. You stormed from the room and slammed your door before you fell onto the bed and screamed into your pillows.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream!

649 notes · View notes

phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

Twisting Fate

(A what-if idea I had. adjusted the canon timeline a little)

...

From Recovery Girl’s perspective, Sir Nighteye was a horizon.

Lying stiff in his hospital bed, with the setting sun creeping lower at his right, Nighteye’s whole body became ridges of shadows. His face was gaunter, paler at the precipice of death. Caverns hid his eyes, and every sharp angle of his frame threw swaths of shadow, magnified larger, over the left wall of his room. Machines like snakes clawed into his midsection, all cold metallic tubes replacing the functions of organs that had been shredded through. Recovery Girl sat on a stool to his left, shaded in this darkness, smelling on the heat of the radiator the familiar smell of death.

“I have… a theory…” Nighteye’s words were hardly even whispers. They were stow-away nuances on the raspy rattle of his breath. “…and it will bother me if I die without ever having resolved it.”

“What’s your theory?” Recovery Girl asked. She was too used to this, being the receptacle for the last thoughts, wonders, worries, and dreams of dying heroes.

“Izuku Midoriya… He may--…it is possible—he may have a quirk.”

“A quirk, as in one beside One For All, I assume.”

“Not One For All. Beyond that. His own quirk. I have a theory…”

“Izuku Midoriya was diagnosed quirkless. Does this affect your theory?”

Silence rattled around them. Nighteye’s chest rose and fell faintly. “As in… the vestigial joint in the smallest toe, and no observable quirk of his own?”

“Yes, he matches those criteria,” Recovery Girl confirmed.

Sir Nighteye said nothing in immediate response. He laid in silence to catch his breath, and let the room fall back under the sedation of his blipping heart monitor.

“The correlation… of the additional toe joint to quirklessness is about 99%. It is possible for Midoriya to still have a quirk.”

“That is true.” The lamp in the corner clicked on, softly yellow, blanketing the room as the creeping darkness of nighttime set in. “We don’t know how many cases of quirklessness are false positives. What is it that makes you think Midoriya has a quirk?”

Nighteye let out a rattling breath. “By my own nature, and the nature of my quirk… I take pride in having evidence for my claims. I’d like to investigate this before I tell you. …The doctors estimate they can keep me alive like this for three days, at most. Do you think that’s accurate?”

“Three and a half, now that I’ve healed you some,” Recovery Girl answered.

“That’s enough. There’s someone I’d like you to fetch for me.”

“All Might.”

“No,” Nighteye answered with the faintest shake of his head. “Shota Aizawa. He should be in this same hospital. Please bring him to me.”

…

Aizawa and Nighteye spoke only briefly, with an agreement to help, and a message to pass along. Two messages, more precisely.

Aizawa got himself released from the hospital by 6am the next morning, having not slept, and having pulled some strings with the night nurses who knew him well to expedite the process. By 7am, he was back at the U.A. dorms, the very atmosphere asleep this early on a Saturday morning.

Only two students were awake: Momo Yaoyorozu, reading comfortably on the common area couch with a blanket swaddled around her, and Tenya Iida, preparing enough toast in the kitchen to cover breakfast for the entire class.

It was Iida who Aizawa flagged, and pulled aside, and passed the message along to: There was a dying pro hero whom Iida had never met asking for his presence. Aizawa had no further details on what the man wanted, or why, and he knew Nighteye well enough to assume that neither he nor Iida would ever be informed.

The lack of information agitated Iida. His arms jittered, and he pressed for information on why, and what had happened, and what his presence would mean to Nighteye. Aizawa could only shrug and ask if the withholding of that information affected Iida’s answer. Iida paused to consider this only briefly. And then he agreed, of course, because any self-respecting hero-in-training would do everything in his power to satisfy the dying wish of a citizen.

…

When Sunday set in, Aizawa did not go prowling through the dorm areas until the early afternoon, because the other message he had to pass along was for Katsuki Bakugou, and Bakugou’s whole morning was booked solid with provisional license training.

When Aizawa found Bakugou, the boy was freshly showered and sporting a litany of new scrapes and bandages, thumbs jamming aggressively into one of the dorm’s three console controllers for the shared GameStation. From the neighboring couch, Kirishima yelled at Bakugou to not mess us the toggles, to which Bakugou fired off several choice, colorful words back.

Aizawa didn’t bother scolding him. He only pulled Bakugou aside, and gave him the same message as Iida: Pro Hero Nighteye wanted to see him.

Bakugou sneered at this. He knew the name as Deku’s work-study boss, and knew it more potently now that the recent news story broke, and Nighteye’s name made it to the local stations as a hero in critical condition after a daring rescue.

Bakugou asserted this had nothing to do with him. That none of this was his problem. That he owed nothing to a man he’d never met and shouldn’t be expected to bow to his whim. Aizawa said nothing in response. He let the silence linger, and let Bakugou fester in the echo of his own words. Bakugou cracked the silence with a growl of frustration, and a crackle of his palms, and a spat declaration of “fine”.

Aizawa thanked him for his cooperation, and asked if now would be a bad time to follow him to Nighteye’s hospital.

…

By the third day of his hospice stay, Nighteye had become more machine than man. He fostered little presence. His only motion came from the respirator breathing for him. His harsh angles and stark shadows had decayed, softened, sank with him into his very-little-at-all-ness into the bed.

Recovery Girl sat beside him once more. In theory she had come to change bandages and administer healing, but at the sight of the man, she knew even that much was not worthwhile. It was only Nighteye’s comfort that mattered now. She set up an IV drip to ease his breathing and pain, but it would not heal him. At best, it would offer him just a wisp of his voice back.

“Have you resolved your theory about Izuku Midoriya’s quirk?” she asked simply. It was another skill she’d fostered in her professional life – to ask the leading questions of dying people, who in death seemed so strangely prone to avoiding any direct answers.

To her surprise, Nighteye smiled.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Yes. You are the only person right now I trust with this information. I need to pass it along, and I have no one else in mind.”

“And once you’ve told me, should I tell Midoriya too?”

“I don’t know. I trust you to figure that out, if it’s right or not.”

“What’s Midoriya’s quirk?”

Nighteye said nothing at first. He stared at the ceiling, as it seemed he possessed little of the necessary strength to look elsewhere.

“During the fight against Overhaul… I saw Midoriya die. I saw it with my Foresight,” he said, not answering the direct question, which did little to surprise Recovery Girl. “My Foresight has never been wrong. Sometimes, purely in denial, I’ve convinced myself it could, theoretically, be wrong, if only to not feel so hopeless about the futures I’ve seen. But 35 years without a single incorrect prediction is… a devastatingly consistent precedent to contend with.”

“I know this about you. Midoriya was the first to change that future?”

“It was… Chisaki’s future… that I was looking at. I saw him kill Midoriya. I saw him escape. So it was Chisaki’s future that changed. And I suspected, the more I thought about it, that Midoriya may have done it.”

“What do you think his quirk is?”

“I… have more context… I want to explain myself. I asked Shota Aizawa to bring me two U.A. students.”

“Iida and Bakugou. Shota told me.”

“Iida, because, if my hunch was correct, he would be affected too. And he was. My hunch was correct.”

“What was your hunch?”

“When I used my Foresight on him, I saw something I’ve never seen before… All futures I’ve seen are linear. A movie to play out. Singular, immutable, and certain. What I saw in Iida was more like… tree branches twisting around a trunk. One which was strong, and bold, and most clear ahead of him. Like what I usually see. It was a bright and happy future. A future he’s earned. One to be proud of.”

“I’m glad. Tenya Iida is a kind boy.”

“But the small futures… I’ve never seen them before. All gnarled and withered, twisting in and out…. Most of those were empty. I see this when someone is soon to die, but… these looked as though Iida had already died. Several times over. Other small twisted ones… he was still alive, but not a hero, not a U.A. graduate, too heavily incapacitated. No use of his arms. Limited use of his legs.”

“And what does this tell you?”

Nighteye offered just wheezes, catching his breath.

“With… with Bakugou. It was similar but... Bakugou had many more gnarled branches than Iida. Some empty… Others where, it seemed he had never even gotten into U.A. Others as the League of Villains’ hostage. Others in jail. They were not uniform. Some were faint, so I could hardly detect them. Some were so far removed from our reality, as if they’d forked over a decade ago. …Do not worry, his main future is bright.”

“I know All Might has a lot of hope for that boy.” Recovery Girl pushed off her stool. She went and cracked the hospital window open, so that the fresh air may do something for the sweat coalescing on Nighteye’s brow.

“Izuku Midoriya… I know many things about him. Gathering intel is a specialty of mine. And I know he has been lucky in unfathomable ways. Bakugou, that boy, he saved from the League of Villains. Iida, he saved from Stain, just barely, as I understand it. Midoriya’s own acceptance into U.A. was improbable at best. His rescue of a boy named Kota should have been his end, but it wasn’t. He was involved in a fight against the serial killer Moon Fish. He was Shigaraki’s hostage briefly. He played the main role in orchestrating Bakugou’s rescue from the League of Villains. And now, under me, he defeated Chisaki, in a fight which should, with certainty, have cost him his life.”

“There’s no need to remind me of all these. I was the one who healed that boy every time. I know he’s reckless.”

“This is beyond reckless. This is the resume of a boy who should have died many times over. …And I think, maybe, he has.”

To this, Recovery Girl gave no immediate response. Only a deep inhale, nasally, a held breath, an exhale.

“Midoriya may have died already. My Foresight wasn’t wrong, but it was posthumously corrected. It is in the strange nature of Izuku Midoriya that when the people around him should die… they don’t. Midoriya always saves them. And if my Foresight is to be believed, he does not always succeed on the first try. Those gnarled branches into Iida and Bakugou’s futures were fates in which Midoriya had not intervened. Or had failed to intervene successfully. They were fates he was able to twist off the main path, and correct under his own power of will. And that would be a quirk nigh undetectable. How would you document or observe it? The ability to undo the outcomes that ended in disaster. It’s powerful. Unfathomably powerful, if I’m correct about this. Stronger than One for All could ever be. I wonder, if I were to look at Midoriya’s future, how many twisted fates might I see?”

Recovery Girl let her eyes shift to the window, contemplating the skyline, contemplating all the near-lethal encounters Izuku Midoriya had fought through. She tried to process this possibility, and found herself failing to take it in all at once. “Do you intend to look?”

“No,” Nighteye said, and it was with finality. “I won’t make it to tomorrow. And there’s someone else whose future I need to see today.”

“If it’s All Might, I would be able to--.”

“No. It’s not All Might’s.”

To this, Recovery Girl startled. Her eyes shifted to Night Eye, who wore the smallest of smiles, his eyes squinted shut.

“After what you saw six years ago… you don’t want to see if that fate has changed?”

“All Might and I have parted ways. I am choosing to entrust his safety to Izuku Midoriya now. I am choosing to trust that that boy has saved him from that future that’s weighed me down for all these years. I am choosing… to pass the torch onto him. All Might has chosen Izuku Midoriya, and I am at peace with it… No, more than that, I accept that. I am content with that. I am happy with that.”

Recovery Girl nodded, but trepidation stiffened her movements. “…Then who is the last person you want to see?”

…

With the light fading around him, Nighteye wondered if this was the first time he’s seen Mirio cry.

The boy was endlessly bright, endlessly shining, a beacon and a pillar and someone who Nighteye was proud to call his pupil. He felt only the slightest knocking pangs of guilt in his chest for the fact that he’d only connected with Mirio as a vessel for One For All. But Mirio had proven himself well above and beyond all Nighteye’s paltry expectations. He didn’t need One For All to be strong.

The true guilt Nighteye felt was in the knowledge that it was his own fault that Mirio was crying now.

Thick opalescent tears swam in his eyes and cracked his voice. Red blotched along his cheeks and sweat clung to his brow. It was a sad sight to see, the raw and wet keens of Mirio’s voice. It was sad. Nighteye wanted nothing more than to see Mirio smile once more.

So he set a gentle palm to Mirio’s cheek, and he apologized, and he blinked his final activation of his quirk into existence.

Mirio’s future was a grand tree. Like Iida’s, like Bakugou’s, it was threaded with splintered branches. Some empty and shriveled and dead. Some dismal and bleak, twirling up like vines. Nighteye didn’t pay mind to those. He focused only on the trunk. That bright and shining pillar surging forward.

It was a future where Mirio was smiling.

A hero. In costume. Beloved and strong and willing. With a smile that alone could save a million people.

Nighteye trusted Midoriya to cultivate that fate for Mirio.

And that was enough.

So Nighteye told Mirio as much. He deserved to know this as Nighteye did. A fine hero. Finer than anyone else. He’d smile again, Nighteye was sure of it.

The light crept to dark edges around Nighteye’s vision, petering out, swimming to a coldness and a darkness and a nothingness. But it was one he could take comfort in. He focused only on the image of Mirio’s smile as the heart rate monitors ticked to nothing, and the breath vanished from his lungs, and the future set before him ran through its final swath of film.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #nighteye #sir nighteye #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

Ch. 2

Words: 2.4k

Pairing: NCT Misfit Unit x OCs

Genre: Fluff, angst, suggestive, mystery!AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of poisoning, death, light alcohol consumption

“There was a what at the ring?!” Taeyong panicked loudly, causing Savannah to nearly drop her spoon as she ate her yogurt.

She hadn’t realized the news was on as she was busy eating her breakfast and preparing some interview questions. The reporter on the screen was covering a story about an underground fighting area that had become a crime scene after a fighter “mysteriously froze all of a sudden before collapsing to his death.” Behind her was the abandoned nightclub and the same yellow tape blocking off the general public.

“Oh, that,” Savannah sighed as she smacked her forehead. “I meant to tell you, but I was exhausted from it all.”

Taeyong could never get angry with her. As much as he wished she would have told him what had happened, he understood the emotional trauma of witnessing a tragedy like that. Although part of his job as a fireman was to get civilians to safety, not everyone is lucky enough to make it out alive; and just having to deliver the bad news to the families who lost loved ones is heartbreaking enough.

A sigh escaped his lips as he massaged his temples. “Savannah, this is why I don’t like when you go into the field for things like this,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Honey, I wasn’t hurt,” his wife defended herself. “I know you worry about me, but I’ve taken self defense classes. And you were the one who got me pepper spray.”

Taeyong couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“Still,” he sighed. “It just scares me that I could lose you when you’re by yourself.”

“Hey, I get nervous, too, but I have more chances of survival in certain situations.”

“Well, I still want you to call for help when you need it, whether that’d be me or emergency services. Promise?”

“Pinky swear.”

Taeyong kissed her goodbye one more time before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

“...The wrestler’s autopsy report states that he passed away of cyanide poisoning,” the news anchor reported. “Medical examiners found large amounts of the toxin in his bloodstream, and concluded the fighter had consumed it minutes before he died.”

“Cyanide,” Savannah repeated.

She quickly jotted bullet points of everything she knew so far:

Hendery saw someone strange

Jeno had a weird phone call about someone (girlfriend?) and left the scene. Nervous about something(?)

Wrecker was poisoned with cyanide. How?

Now, she hoped Johnny would have some answers for her. Savannah wasn’t expecting to solve this mystery right away, but she had a start.

After checking the time, she grabbed her keys and her purse, turned off the TV, and then headed out the door.

The drive to the gym was about five minutes as Taeyong often worked out there when he wasn’t on duty. It was in a joint building with a pizza parlor and a dry cleaning service. The Iron Bell’s sign displayed a red dumbbell logo with lettering in a sort of punk cooper black font.

“It’s always the gyms who have the loudest signs,” Savannah chuckled as she walked into the building.

The interior of the gym was pretty nice to Savannah’s surprise, and it was much larger than she expected. The walls were a bright shade of crimson with multiple TVs showing multiple channels and lined up near the ceiling. On one side of the gym were your typical ellipticals, treadmills, and weight equipment; but on the other side of the gym was a large, fenced-in octagon mat used for MMA practice or whatever type of defense/offence practice. Two men, YangYang and the medic boy from the fight, were busy practicing defense moves, and a few people were making use of the machines.

Savannah took note of her neighbor Mark Lee taking advantage of the available weight set as his fiancée Alice Gilmore, a coworker of hers, was busy jogging on one of the treadmills, her blonde ponytail swishing with each step.

“Hey, Sav!” he greeted as he finished a set of reps. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Mark, Alice,” she smiled. “I’m here to see Johnny Suh. Is he here?”

“I think he’s in his office,” Alice replied, out of breath as she slowed down her treadmill speed. “It’s behind the wrestling mat.”

“Thank you,” Savannah nodded as she headed towards the office door, which she now saw labeled in white as “MANAGER.”

With three knocks, she heard a voice say, “It’s open.”

Savannah carefully pushed the door open to find who she was looking for sitting at a desk and on the phone with someone. The office itself wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was organized. The shelf displayed a few awards for the gym, and a few pictures of a familiar young boy with blond hair and a bright smile around six or seven years old. Her coworker Sierra had pictures of the same child on her desk at the newspaper office. Then, it hit her: Johnny was Sierra’s husband, and he was the boy’s stepdad.

“Alright, baby,” he said as he smiled, and Savannah guessed he was talking to his wife. “I’ll pick up Alex for his doctor’s appointment. Hey, I’ve got to go. Savannah’s here...I love you, too...Bye.”

He hung up and stood to greet the journalist who just entered his office.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized as he held out a hand. “I didn’t quite catch your name when we spoke last night.”

“I’m Savannah Nguyen, Mr. Suh,” she introduced herself as she shook his hand.

“Please, call me Johnny,” he scoffed lightly. “We go by a first name basis here, Savannah. Have a seat.” He motioned to a leather seat that was covered with duct tape. Clearly, it had seen better days; but it held Savannah up fine.

“My wife mentioned you two were coworkers,” he continued. “I thought your last name was Lee.”

“Legally, yes,” Savannah nodded as she fished out her notebook from her purse. “I married my husband about a year and a half ago.”

“Oh, yeah! The firechief Lee Taeyong.”

“That would be him.”

“Then, why are you still going by your other name?”

“My editor suggested I use my maiden name for my stories. Nguyen is more of a pen name of sorts.”

Johnny just nodded.

“Anyway, we’re not here to talk about marital statuses,” Savannah changed the subject. “I managed to catch you after the fight, but then the whole fiasco had everyone shaken up. And if you saw the news this morning, his autopsy came back as death by cyanide poisoning. So, could you tell me about anything that might have happened leading up to the murder?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary that I noticed,” Johnny shrugged as he thought about it.

“No strange people? Or any snacks that could have been tainted?”

“We get all kinds of people who come to the fights, so anyone could have taken out Wrecker.”

“Pretty much.”

Savannah then showed him the notes she had.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I have so far.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed as he read what was in front of him.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I did notice that Jeno had disappeared, but I wasn’t sure where.”

“My best guess is that he has some sort of female acquaintance in the hospital, but since he works with Taeyong, I’m told the girl in question is his girlfriend.”

“Probably,” Johnny agreed. “I’ve seen her. Really pretty girl. He would bring her when he had a fight, but she hasn’t been coming the past few months. We asked about her a few times, and Jeno said she was fine. The conversation never went further than that, though, so we figured it was none of our business really.”

Taeyong’s hunch had been confirmed, however, the question of what exactly was going on with her was still in the air. Savannah knew she would have to talk to Jeno to get the full story, but she hated feeling that there was something off about the situation.

She took the notebook back from the gym’s manager and wrote down some new notes.

“Do you know if Wrecker had any enemies?” she continued her interview.

Johnny laughed a little. “Wrecker had beef with everyone,” he scoffed. “But enough to end his life? Not that I know of.”

“Well, the guy named Hendery said he saw someone run from the scene.”

“Who?”

“He wasn’t sure. All he saw was a person of medium height in a dark coat and fedora. He couldn't tell if they were male or female.”

Johnny clicked his tongue and nodded. “Okay, that is a little weird. Come to think of it” -he sat up a little straighter and rubbed his chin- “I did see Wrecker drink something before he went on, and it wasn’t in his usual bottle he aggressively drinks from.”

Savannah paused for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“It was some small paper cup thing, but I don’t know if you’d want to go digging in the garbage for it.”

Savannah just nodded and wrote down more of what he said. “Well, I think that’s gonna cover it for now,” she said as she put her notebook back into her purse. “Thanks for meeting with me, Johnny.”

“No problem, Savannah,” he smiled as he showed her to the door. “And if you want some more people to talk to, Brittany has had some business dealings with Wrecker a while back. If you wanna find her she works at Jessi’s. I’m not sure if she’s working today, but it’s a great place if you want a margarita.”

“Noted.”

With the new information in hand, Savannah decided to go pay a visit after work.

Taeyong drove his wife to the bar in case she decided to have a drink, so he would pick her up after he ran some errands. Jessi’s wasn’t too far from their house, and many of the people she had worked with always recommended it due to the great drinks, food, and the owners and employees were super friendly and sociable. The outside of the bar seemed like your normal restaurant on the outside with the neon sign of the name written in an elaborate sort of cursive and bright colors. As soon as one walked in, they were met with what looked like a mix of a cool lounge decorated with black, gold, and platinum records. The main dining area’s furniture were white chairs, and the tables were the cleanest looking silver Savannah had ever seen. Even the dark-wooden floor was spotless. A few posters of the singer were the centerpiece on each wall, and two TVs hung on the bar wall above the drink mixes.

Savannah was almost in shock at how creative such a bar was put together.

“Hi, Savannah,” Brittany smiled enthusiastically, her name tag reflecting off of the late afternoon sunlight that peaked in. “Have a seat.”

Snapping out of her daze, the journalist did as she was asked and set her purse on the wooden bar.

“What can I get for you? A Manhattan? Whiskey sour? Or are you a beer gal?”

“Do you have any Mojito?” Savannah requested.

“Oooo, Hemingway’s alleged fave. Would you like vodka or tequila with it?”

“Tequila, please.”

Brittany immediately got to work. She began slicing a lime into four wedges and put them into a glass. Some sugar was scooped up and poured into the glass before Brittany muddled it all down to a mix. She then took some mint into her palm, gave it a firm spank, and then added it to the drink. After giving the mix one more gentle muddle, she poured in some crushed ice about halfway up before adding the tequila and stirring it. After one more small scoop of ice and an adding of some club soda, Brittany topped it off by rubbing some mint leaves along the rim and using it as a drink topper.

“Here you go,” she said, proud of her work once she added a slim black straw.

“Thanks. So, Jessi really owns this place?” Savannah asked once she took a sip of her extravagant looking drink. “Wow! That’s good.”

“The one and only,” Brittany nodded as she wiped down where she had prepared the beverage. “And she has joint ownership with Hyuna, who owns the Red Lounge with her husband Dawn.”

“My husband and I have been there. Great environment like this one.”

“Oh, absolutely! Hold on, let me handle these guys, and I’ll get back to you.”

Two men in suits had entered, and Brittany was quick to fix them their Bloody Mary and Alice. Savannah studied her body language and the way she spoke with them and two other guests who walked in. Brittany always had a smile, her high-pitched voice was always warm and welcoming, and she made sure the guests were served and relaxed with their orders. She could be ruled out as a suspect, but Savannah still wanted to make sure in order to narrow down the list.

“You’re so talented at this,” Savannah applauded when she returned. “Do you also entertain in the evenings with the drinks? Like tricks with shot glasses?”

“Thanks,” Brittany giggled as she mixed and served a Mimosa for a woman sitting at the other end of the bar. “And no. Hendery does all of the fancy tricks. I just mix and pour. Plus, I only do the day shifts.”

“I see.”

Savannah pulled her notebook out as she took another sip of her drink.

“Anyway,” she began, “Johnny mentioned that you had some business with Wrecker a while back.”

“Oh, that,” Brittany rolled her eyes. “Well, he had borrowed money from me because he needed a flat on his truck fixed; but he had failed to pay me back. So, I confronted him about it before the fight on the night he was killed.”

“Did either of you threaten the other?”

“I didn’t threaten him,” Brittany defended herself, “but he did say something about ‘watching my back.’ Honestly, the fighters there give empty threats most of the time; so I wasn’t too worried.”

Empty threats? Savannah thought. She did see how the other fighters protected each other in that makeshift arena, so Brittany did have something of a point.

“And everyone knows I carry pepper spray, so Wrecker would’ve had to get his eyes flushed out if he tried anything.”

“I see.”

“Cyanide poisoning,” Brittany repeated the news report. She must have seen it that morning, as well. “We were thinking he had some sort of poisonous dart shot at him. Nobody heard gunshots.”

“Wrecker was poisoned for sure, but I spoke with Johnny. He thinks he ingested it through a drink of some sort.”

“Weird.”

Savannah nodded and sipped her drink.

18 notes · View notes

bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XLIV: Sting Ray

Exhaustion set in as soon as the form before us faded. Vague shapes of the people around me blurred further until they were just airbrushed silhouettes who swayed from side to side. They were both close to me while also being further away. Miles away, even as they stood in place, next to Sunny and I. Even without exhaustion, I would have felt the same, thanks to the high setting in.

“I can’t believe it’s over...”Sunny muttered as she puffed the last of her joint. I think we were all shaken by the experience, even if none of us were naive enough to believe we were rid of such a monster.

Before we were ready to move on, Remora stepped out in front of us and lowered herself down to one knee.

“Aw, are you about to propose to someone?” Sunny leaned in and teased. Remora looked up and tilted her head.

“...What?” She asked, perpetual confusion. “No. I just...well, I do have a proposition.”

“Well, out with it!” Sunny urged.

Remora lowered her head, then continued:

“I left you all at a time when I suspected we weren’t rid of the one who sought to harm us. Thus, I put you all in danger. For that, I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I tried to reassure her, “I don’t think any of us knew Cronus could conjure up a fog like that.”

“Even still...I left and I shouldn’t have. For so long, I wanted a home, some place I felt right in. Maybe this place wasn’t what I would have considered ‘home’ at first, but over time I found you guys to be important to me. Yet I left you all behind, because I was scared. Because I didn’t understand what you all meant to me. So, even though I know I have no right to ask this of you, I will do so anyway: may I be a part of your lives once more? If you refuse, we’ll part ways once we reach the surface and you’ll never have to see me again.”

We all stood in silence. Despite the haze which was taking over, I took the initiative and cleared my throat.

“Oh my. I wasn’t expecting this,” I remarked.

“I’m serious,” Remora replied.

I can’t do serious. Not when I’m starting to feel the buzz kick in.

“I know. It’s just that you should know by now that at least in my eyes, you’ve always got a home here.”

“Yeah, I don’t see why you’d need to worry about something like that,” Sunny added.

“Still,” Remora turned her head away from Sunny and I, “I want to make sure it’s okay with everyone.”

Tigershark stamped her feet as she marched up to Remora, then tapped her on the shoulder.

“I still don’t like that you used to kill people. That’s not a very nice thing to do. But the you that I know is a good person now, so that’s what matters to me. Besides, you’re still one of my precious older sisters!”

“I…” Remora sounded ready to object.

“If you don’t stay, I’m going to be mad, so you have that to think about!” Tigershark roared, hands on her hips.

“I guess I do, huh?” Remora chuckled a humorless chuckle, awkward smile to boot. Afterward, she turned her attention toward Demetria, to which, the rest of us did as well.

“What? Why’s everyone looking at me for?” Demetria stammered, then on the defensive, took a step back and crossed her arms, “what do you need my opinion for? It’s not my decision to make.”

“Everyone means everyone,” Remora told her, insisting on an answer.

“Sure...Yeah. Whatever.”

“Is no one gonna ask me how I feel?” Tigershark jumped up as she asked.

“How do you feel?” Sunny looked down to humor the child, still with enough energy to jump in place.

“Terrible! Thanks! This whole thing has been a nightmare! First, there was that other you,” Tigershark looked over at Remora, “who turned out to be a monster. Then we fight rock monsters. We’re all bleeding and getting hurt. Then we fight another guy who’s a monster and apparently he’s the one who killed my parents? It wasn’t a blizzard, but a scary guy? And now...I’m ready to wake up.”

“Aw, we’re sorry, dear,” Sunny pursed her lip.

“No, I agree, though,” rasped Demetria’s rough voice. Odd, ‘rough’ when I had known her to have more of a mouse-like voice. “What else could it be called other than a nightmare?”

She didn’t speak another word after that, opting instead to hobble her way closer to me, and further from Remora. It was remarkable, that even in my high state, I could notice such subtleties. As we made our worn-out strides out from the room of Cronus’ design, I noticed little pebbles fall into my messy black hair. I ruffled through my hair, trying to shake the flakes out, all while more fell onto my head.

Of course. This part of the tunnel is one of his own design. Once he’s faded away, so too do his illusions.

“Don’t mean to rush any of you all, but I think this place is about to collapse,” I dropped the hint, and being the smartypants that they were, they looked at each other, eyes bulging, then in a panic, began to pick up their pace.

“Demetria, if you find it hard to walk, you can hold onto the side of my suit,” I offered to her. She scowled, though the scowl dropped to a more relaxed frown. As if to say, “fine. If it comes to that, I’ll allow it.”

“Good, and Sunny,” I added, then turned to my wife, my life, “you can do the same with Remora. If either of you need to lean on each other, that’s totally fine,” I gave the thumbs up. Sunny winked.

It was more like a game of hopscotch than a race of peril. Really embarrassing, if I were to be honest. If I had thought to bring a video camera, or even just record them on my phone, I’d look at the footage of us running for our lives and I would laugh. As it stood, I didn’t have that luxury. Any reason to laugh had to be put on hold as my breaths grew short and shallow and the collapsing rocky ground continued to close in behind us. Its pace picking up alongside our own increasing pace.

Other short breaths followed my own as if the other four were a barbershop quartet with stage fright. Hell, with me alongside them, it may as well be a quintet.

Remora and Sunny were both tall ladies. Tigershark was somewhere. Demetria was not a tall lady and I was a Short King (OK. So actually, I am Average Man height. Like 5’7”-(on my good days) 5’9”. Probably). Together we made up a group of people trying to get by with our lives.

I felt a little pull against my arm sleeve. I looked down and saw the orange jelly bean, Tigershark herself, held on tight to my sleeve.

“Hey! Look at you! Good job!” I congratulated her as I tried to work up a smile. If not for myself, then for the kid. She still looked ready to cry. Maybe when we got back to the diner, I could make a cake. If we even still have enough ingredients. Dammit Cronus (because the fog, not because he stole our food, which in an indirect way, he may as well have).

“Fancy weather, innit?” Sunny tried up a Parisian accent.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re underground,” Remora replied in a non-emotive shout, partially muffled by the rumblings around us.

Out the false tunnel and into the original tunnel as we slid our way through as the collapsing illusion. As it shut behind us and became a wall once more, it caused a miniature quake and had us all jump into place before we fell into the ground.

“Worst trampoline I’ve been on in a while,” I remarked as I rubbed my sore bum.

Tigershark was the first to stand back up and made cymbal crashing motions as she danced around with an angry chicken look on her face.

“When I get back, I’m going to bang pots and pans, because I deserve to!” She roared.

“Yeah, can’t argue there,” Sunny murmured. Then her and I laughed.

When we struggled back up and continued walking, I decided to break the ice:

“So, anything you wanna talk about?” I peered at the Demetria beside me. She didn’t say a word.

“Ah, the quiet game. I see,” then I turned to Remora who had a confused look on her face, but also said nothing. “You’re playing too, I see.”

“You’ll have to excuse my Ray of Sunshine, he’s a little high right now,” Sunny waved her hand around in a fanning motion.

“High?” Tigershark looked up. “What’s that mean?”

“He’s ascended,” Sunny then fluttered her hands to the side, like she was breaking out of her cocoon and becoming a beautiful moth fairy.

I tried to keep quiet. I knew I should. There were rules, and if all the world was a stage, then I was a character just as much as anyone else around me. Which meant, there were rules. One of those rules was that I was to stick to the established personality traits of my character. Any deviation was forbidden.

Oh, but much like someone who drank a gallon of tea needed to pee, if we walked through this long tunnel with neither Sunny nor I saying a word, I think I’d be in throbbing pain.

“A word,” Sunny took one for the team. “That’s all I’m going to say, though.”

Wow. Do we share the same mind?

“Thank you, dear,” I told her.

“Any time. Just remember: you’re my wife.”

I chuckled in response.

“I’m your wife, just as you are mine.”

“Wife and Malewife. We’re a gay male and female couple,” Sunny snapped her fingers and remarked.

“That’s what I’m saying!” I exclaimed in agreement.

Collective groans were made from the other three ladies.

Much of our trip back from then on was a blur, other than the fact that at one point, Demetria remarked, “gee, I bet everyone else back at the diner’s wondering what’s taking us so long.”

Although I was still a little outside of my mind, I let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, they’re probably thinking, ‘it can’t possibly take this long just to turn the lights back on’.”

Speaking of lights, as weary as we were, the sight of the bright, yellow glow flooded into view the closer we reached the entrance back into the basement. I looked beside me and saw Tigershark blink several times and rubbing her eyes. The others might have been just as astonished to see light again.

For my part, I was just hoping I had a spare pair of glasses somewhere once we got back up to the surface.

We walked through and everyone’s astonishment was voiced through low “ooh”, “aah,” and “wow.” While they all looked around, I couldn’t help but notice little red streaks on the otherwise clean floor.

No doubt from the fight that went on.

Everyone else made it up to the ladder before me. When it was my turn, I noticed some red marks upon the bars of the ladder. Whether blood or rust, I couldn’t tell. I just hoped they were dry enough that none of the others had gotten it on them. Even without getting it on them, one thing was certain: all five of us were due for a bath (but not at the same time).

Once I made my way up into the kitchen, I closed the hatch behind me. Sunny dropped to the floor, a wide grin on her face, then shot her arms up.

“Whee! Let’s do that again!” She cheered.

“NO!” The rest of us shouted in unison. It couldn’t be helped, of course. She was still riding that high, even if I was starting to come down.

I half-expected for someone, or a few someones, to bolt through the kitchen door and check in on us. When that didn’t come, I expected to hear commotion from the dining hall. Then, when that didn’t come, I just had to investigate. My heart beat like a dog would wag their tail at the prospect of a treat. Though replace ‘treat’ with ‘mystery’.

So I strolled, or strode, whichever suited my fancy, out into the dining hall where I saw the crowd...that wasn’t there. Yes, despite my poor vision, I still couldn’t believe my eyes at the emptiness of it all. There were still plates and messes on each table, signs that life had been there. But where they had gone, that was still a mystery.

Everyone else came out from the kitchen soon after me. Behind me, I heard Tigershark ask, “where did everybody go?”

Yes. Good question. Just how long were we gone? What could have happened in the meantime? Were they all hurt?

“That’s a good question, pipsqueak,” Demetria replied.

“Hey! Who you callin’ pipsqueak? In a few years, I’ll be taller than you!” Tigershark shouted back with ferocious fury.

“Man, I love you all,” Sunny drawled out, an adorable smile spread across her face.

“Uh. OK? Thanks?” Remora didn’t know how to respond.

Two things caught my attention: one, though outside looked fuzzy and dark, it did not look foggy. Which could only mean that the fog was lifted. The other thing I noticed were a few sheets of paper spread out on a nearby table. Ignoring their banter, I wandered over to the table. Each sheet had our names written on one side, with a series of text on the back. Although I couldn’t make out the individual words of our names, I could tell who was who by the individual letters shown and the vague shapes that made them up.

I chuckled at the absurdity of not even being able to read a simple letter.

I hope I have a spare pair of glasses somewhere.

“Hey guys,” I motioned for the others. It was my own little way of obfuscating from the fact that I couldn’t see what was written, “come check this out.”

The others scrambled on over and noticed the sheets of paper on the table, just as I had.

“They’re...letters?” Demetria blinked, astonished, and just a slight tinge of confusion.

“Man, oh man! This is too much!” Sunny held one hand over her face while the other held the sheet of paper, “she spelled it ‘hoomin’! Like Moomin, but with an ‘H’!”

“It’s Astraea!” Tigershark gasped as she read her letter, “she said that everyone else went to the hospital and she followed them there! Apparently there’s someone in particular she wants to see.”

“What does yours say, Demetria?” I turned to her as she parsed through the page. Before she answered, she folded up the paper and put it in her pocket.

“Nothing important,” she answered in a dry manner.

“Same here,” Remora added with a shiver and a shifty look.

Nervous, much?

“In that case,” I smiled, still trying to save face, “I’ll keep my letter private as well. They are meant for the individual, after all.”

“Aw, I wanted to know what yours said,” Tigershark whined. I pat her head and chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it later,” I suggested as a means to reassure her.

“...Heh...Hoomin,” Sunny mumured to herself and laughed a howling laughter.

Now that I think about it, she probably has less of a tolerance to that kind of stuff than I do.

I strolled over to each table and picked up each plate, ready to take it to the kitchen. As I held a stack in hand, I turned to the other four.

“Now, we’ve all had a long day, so how about we all relax? Go ahead, sit down, I’ll get you guys something to drink.

“I’ll take vodka,” Remora requested whilst lowering herself down to the booth next to her.

“What’s vodka?” Tigershark asked.

“Shitty alcohol,” Sunny answered, not seeming to care about the swear, “I’ll have whiskey, take it or leave it.”

“Both of those sound gross!” Tigershark stuck her tongue out. “I’ll just have some hot cocoa.”

“Whip or no whip?” I asked.

“Lots and lots of whip cream!” She roared and cheered, fist pumping into the air.

“How about you, Demetria?” I turned my attention to her and watched as she slumped over in her seat, next to Sunny, and sulked at the table.

“Coffee,” she stated, which I found interesting, as I never pictured her to be a coffee drinker. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of drinks she tended to like.

“And how do you take your coffee?”

“Orally.”

Her response left me no choice but to make my expression as dull as hers as I teased, “oh, really? And here I thought you took yours rectally.”

“Wha...no. I mean, black, I guess.”

Sunny cackled into a thunderous laughter and slammed her fist on the table, which shook the poor thing every which way.

Sheesh. It’s like I’ve got my own laugh track. Thanks hun.

As I worked my magic in the kitchen, washing dishes and preparing drinks, I thought it over and decided that what Sunny really needed was water. As for everyone else, it went over just fine: I didn’t have to venture back down into the basement to get some vodka (thank goodness) as there was a bottle in the fridge. After I poured a shot, I filled another shot glass with water from the tap. Next, I brewed a pot of coffee, boiled a kettle of water on the stove, and as I waited for each one to heat up and fill up, I took off to the back of the diner to search for a pair of glasses.

There were none in my desk drawer. Next, I ascended to the upstairs bedroom. Sure enough, on the night stand, there was a box for glasses. I opened it up, half-fearing that it would be empty, but my heart fluttered upon seeing that there was indeed a pair for me.

Thank my lucky stars. Feels like things are finally starting to turn around.

As soon as I put them on, the world opened up to me.

“I can see clearly now the rain is gone,” I hummed and made my way back down.

Before I went back into the kitchen to prepare the final three drinks, I unfolded the paper and read its contents. For the sake of posterity, I will transcribe it without so many spelling errors (trust me, just about every word was misspelled):

Dear Ray,

Thank you a lot for letting me be a waitress. I appreciate what you taught me about humanity, just as much as I do with the things Sunny and Tigershark have taught me. Tigershark is my friend, you know. Also, I liked asking people what food they wanted to eat. I learned so many names of foods.

I think we’re a lot alike, because we’re both curious about things. It’s good, I think, because there’s always more to learn. While I didn’t understand what was going on at the time, I know a lot of people weren’t doing too good and you looked a bit sad. But I think even if bad things happen, you’re still very nice. I also want to be very nice! But I think I like tricking people too. That’s fun (Tigershark taught me about tricking).

As for how I managed to write all this after everyone went to the hospital it’s because I can write fast (Tigershark taught me to read and write). I’m very fast! Maybe not running but I can do things fast!

Also everyone left because someone called the doctor and the doctor mobile picked them up. I was in my room but I heard that someone fell over. It sounded interesting, so I’m going to walk to the hospital now. I might come back, but it also might take me a lot of days. I can’t always tell where I’m going.

P.S. I think you would like Animal Crossing. Tom Nook is kind of like you. He’s a nice man and maybe human.

I smiled and folded the paper back up, placed it into my desk, and strolled back into the kitchen. There were still some missing pieces, some gaps that needed to be filled in, but I’m sure they would be explained in time.

Actually, I’m growing a little impatient on that front.

After pouring in the hot cocoa mix into the boiling water, I stirred it. Then I filled it sky high with whipped cream. The coffee was easy, since it was all automatic. Really, needed no explanation. As for my tea, I chose a nice cup of ceylon and jasmine tea, and let it steep. While it sat, I decided to call up Dr. Cole-Slaw. To my surprise, she answered right away.

“Ray! You better have a good explanation for all this!” She huffed into the phone, clear annoyance rang through her voice.

“I’m sorry, Shir – Doctor, but I was hoping you could give me one. I was away while everything went down. One moment, I was attending to business in the basement, the next, all my patrons are gone.”

“Are you aware what ‘DOA’ means?” She asked, a little ‘tsk tsk’ in her tone.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ve been a wanted man in a few cities.” That was a joke. I wasn’t as popular as some might have believed me to be.

“Dead on arrival, smartass. One of your friends, Xena Warrior Princess over here, called me to go retrieve a dead body. Is this some kind of practical joke?”

Dead body? What?

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. I don’t know anything about that. Also, Xena Warrior Princess?”

“I dunno, purple sword lady.”

“Wendy. I don’t think she’d appreciate being called that.”

“Oh, no, she does. I ran it by her first. She said it’s quite amusing. Anyway, care to explain?”

Still the same Shirley, I see. Still...this is concerning.

“Trust me, I’d love to. I’ve buried a couple of people outside of the diner, but there shouldn’t be any corpses inside.”

“Excuse me? There’s more? Have you gone off the deep end, Ray? I know you’ve done some questionable stuff, but I didn’t know you had it in you to be an ax murderer.”

“It’s nothing like that. Look,” I slid back from the counter, “I’ll tell you what I’ve been dealing with for the past year: there’s been a terrible fog, maybe you’ve seen it? Maybe not. But there’s been monsters in the fog attacking people and I’ve been sheltering as many people as I could, trying to keep everyone alive on what limited supplies we had.”

“No offense, but I’ve got a hard time believing that.”

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t. I’d rather it wasn’t real, myself. But as you could see, it’s been lifted. For equally supernatural reasons, I presume.”

I got to thinking about all that I’ve endured the past year. All that we’ve endured. How all that time, I never bothered to learn the names of the people I sheltered. It was just as Aurora said. Perhaps if I had gotten to know everyone, I would have figured out Sister Cecilia’s identity sooner. I would have figured out Captain Aca...okay, that one was obvious. But still, I wished that I had a stronger bond with the others. Maybe then I might have had higher spirits.

“Say, do you know who it was you picked up?”

“No, sorry. But your cohort seems to have an idea. I’ll put her on the line. She’s agreed to mop the hospital floors while she’s here. I figure it’s a fair enough deal since I ended up hauling off a whole crowd of people.”

“Great. Do it.”

“Oh, and by the way, our little Jane Doe’s still breathing. For now, anyway. She’s in, uh, not good condition, but it’s something.”

“What a relief. Wait, I thought you said dead on arrival?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t say arrival to the hospital. I’m a genius, I know,” she gloated.

“OK, let me hear from Wendy.”

She passed the phone on over, then I heard Wendy’s raspy yet sly voice.

“Hey, Ray, guess who I’m with at the hospital right now?” She posed the question.

“Are you going to tell me?” I wasn’t really in the mood for guessing, nor did I have enough information on hand to do so. “I know they’re a woman, that’s about it.”

“Hmm…” she lingered on that last ‘m’, “have you taken a look in the mirror since you got back? I do take it you’re back, and not just calling me from underground.”

“No, I haven’t. I should get on that, but I’m busy preparing drinks for the other four.”

“You sure sound exhausted, that’s for sure. I bet you look just as bad as you sound right now,” she suggested.

“Probably. I just sound this way because I’m coming down from a high, but we all need our rest. Now, since you’re not going to tell me about this mystery patient, will you at least tell me what went on while I was away?”

“Aw, you’re no fun. But sure. Basically about a minute or two after you went down, the lights flickered back on and we were all excited. I told everyone to temper their excitement, as we still don’t know what to expect. What a statement that turned out to be, as maybe a little more than an hour later, we hear someone coming back up. Some of us got all giddy, thinking it was you guys, but instead walks out this woman none of us recognized. Well, some of us thought we did, but I’m not gonna name names. She fell down once she saw us, but not before saying something, I think it was, ‘that’s all, folks’ in a weak voice.”

“Someone besides us was down in the basement?” My heart skipped a beat. I knew there was that impostor, and later on Cronus, but I didn’t think there would be anyone else. “Did she sneak down there and hide or something?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. I’m as lost as you are on that front. But I’ll say this: upon seeing her face, I flew into a panic. I shouted for someone to call a doctor. Others thought it was ridiculous, but then we saw that the fog was gone and that was when we all wanted a doctor. Someone had the number to your good friend, Cole-Slaw, and she was happy to come out and get us all.”

Something tells me she wasn’t very happy at all, but let’s put that aside.

“Speaking of coleslaw, what’s the deal with it? You put mayonnaise on radishes and lettuce or something and for some reason that’s supposed to taste good?”

“Any other time, I’d love to talk about what constitutes as food, but I’m just a little beat.”

“I get you. I think even I would be, given what you all must have gone through. But hey, now we’ve got clear skies. That’s something to celebrate, no?”

“Yeah. Maybe in the morning I can get a good view outside. As it is, it’s just a little too dark for my liking. But anyway, I should go,” but before I did, I got to thinking, “oh, and hey: if this mystery patient manages to make it, I’d like to meet her in person. Maybe you can invite her back to the diner and Tigershark and I will treat her to a nice meal. How’s that sound?”

“Sure thing, Ray. We’ll see.”

There was a great list of things to look forward to, and that just became one of them. But anyway, I needed to deliver everyone their drinks before the hot drinks turn cold and the cold drinks turn warm. So once I ended the call, I brought out each of the drinks on a platter and strode out into the dining hall.

“Here you go, ladies,” I set down each drink onto the table. Sunny, without hesitation, downed her shot.

“Damn,” she wiped her mouth, “that’s the best whiskey I’ve ever had.”

I suppose the irony may have been that it would have been easier to mistake water for vodka than it would be whiskey, but since she was still riding a high, perhaps it was just a little hard to tell.

Tigershark sipped on her hot cocoa, a little whipped cream mustache forming above her lips.

I, meanwhile, too my seat at the booth just behind them. It wasn’t a matter of isolating myself from the others. No, I just liked to listen in as an outsider while I took comfort in the solitude.

“It really has been over a year. How old are you now, Demetria?” Remora asked, working up her best kind voice.

“Twenty-four,” Demetria replied and shrugged whilst sipping her coffee.

“Aw, man! That means I missed your birthday!” Remora then complained.

“Uh, yeah? That’s what being away for over a year means.”

“Still, it’s good to see you,” Remora smiled and continued to try to lighten the mood.

“It is? Why?”

“Because I’ve missed you.”

“No you didn’t. You just missed the attention.”

“That’s not true…” Her voice turned desperate, before lowering it.

“Sorry. That was maybe too harsh of me,” Demetria looked away as she mentioned.

“No, you’re right.”

Demetria got up from her seat, took the coffee cup, chugged it down, then announced, “I’m going to my room.”

She walked off a couple of paces, then turned back.

“Don’t worry, Ray. I’ll wash out my mug before I go.”

She walked a couple of paces once again, almost to the kitchen, then turned back once more.

“Actually, I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll go to my room.”

I couldn’t help myself, perhaps a tad insensitive of me, but I cupped one hand over my mouth and called out to her.

“Actually, you’ll go through the hallway, then take a shower, then go to your room!”

She twitched, it seeming to strike a nerve, but then just said, “yeah…”

I then saw Tigershark, still with her whipped cream mustache, look over with an incredulous face, then turn back to Remora.

“What was that for?! We just got back and she’s already got an attitude?” Tigershark thew her hands up.

“It’s because of me,” Remora turned somber and stared down as she explained, “the whole reason why she left last time, and why I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I told her that I didn’t, and couldn’t care about her. Or anyone. I really thought that at the time, too. She didn’t take it well, which...understandably so. So I tried to bargain with her, and...that made it worse, because I panicked and I wasn’t feeling well, just recovering from being sick, which probably contributed to the whole thing. So...I can’t blame her for being wary around me.”

“Well, that’s stupid! You care about us, right?” Tigershark was incensed and poised for a rant.

“Yeah, but it took a long time to figure that out.”

Interesting. I never thought I’d hear her say that. Perhaps in her absence she went through a long journey of self-discovery and probably has many stories to tell of her adventures.

“So? Just tell her that.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Yeah it is. You just told me.”

“I’m sure she’d want me to prove it, and I don’t know how to.”

“That’s dumb too! And I’m sure you missed us, too! Also, what’s wrong with wanting attention? Who says you can’t miss people and want attention at the same time? Attention is good.”

“You don’t get it. You’re just a kid.”

“So what? What’s that got to do with anything? I’ll have you know, I’m eleven now!”

“Wow. I’m gone for over a year and all of a sudden everyone’s a year older,” Remora muttered. It was almost like she was making an observation, but to anyone else, it may have come off as sarcasm.

She looked out the window, listless, then peered her head over to where I was; to be honest, I was a little caught off guard that she would notice me, given that I was just there sipping my tea and listening in to everyone else.

“I’m going to my room, too, and, uh, Ray?” Remora announced.

“Yes?” I addressed her.

“Your wife’s asleep at the table.”

“Ah. Thank you. I suppose it’s time we get some rest. In the morning I’ll make us all a large meal, how does that sound?” I offered.

“I can do it! You’re still hurt pretty bad!” Tigershark shot her hand up.

“Very well. I’ll leave it to you, then,” I gave a light chuckle as I got up from my seat, took one last sip of my tea, and led Sunny up, first by tapping on her back.

“Come on, hun. It’s time we got ourselves to bed,” I coaxed as I helped lift her up.

“Boobas…” She murmured in a half-asleep daze. She must have been dreaming about bubble tea or something.

“Yes, dear. I understand quite well.”

We stumbled our way to the back, then up the stairs to our room. She rubbed her eyes a bit, but rather than start to wake up, as soon as we were next to our bed, she collapsed right into it. I followed suit.

The following morning, I fumbled getting my glasses back on, surprised that I had slept without taking them off, and my head almost crushing them while asleep. Once I had conquered that battle, it was time to...well, check the time. My phone read 5:31 AM, and as early as it was, I accepted it and forced myself out of bed.

As I got up, I felt the intense soreness of yesterday’s struggle. What a terrible and aching physical reminder it was. It got worse when I went down and took a shower; the hot water stung against the wounds on my sides and on my face. After getting myself dressed, I headed to my desk in the middle of the hallway and sat down. Yes, it may have been wiser to have brewed another cup of tea, or perhaps, dare I say, coffee, but I just wanted to sit and think for a little while.

What a day yesterday. For better or worse, we all made it back, and the diner is once again empty save for the five of us. While I do hope to get some customers sooner or later, I must say that I enjoy the quiet. We’ve all earned it. Now, even if some things may be different in terms of everyone’s personalities, if we are getting back to business as usual, then I ought to make a phone call.

The downside is that based on our timezones, Cybele would probably still be asleep.

I know. I’ll just send a text.

Me: It’s safe now. You can return if you’d like.

I set my phone down on the table, then almost jumped out of my seat upon seeing Remora seated across from me. Her serious expression made whatever she was there to say seem urgent.

“So, I just had a dream that we were all on a battlefield and then Demetria died and I got sad, so there’s no denying it now: I’ve got a crush on her.”

I matched her dull expression with my own.

“Remora, it’s like 6 AM,” I informed her.

“Is it? I don’t have my phone with me, so I can’t really tell the time. Anyway, I don’t see what that has to do with the dream I had, so quit beating around the bush and tell me what you think.”

Is this really all I’m good for?

“It doesn’t really sound like a crush,” I shrugged, figuring she wouldn’t give up staring until I gave her an answer, “it just sounds normal. You’d be sad if I died, wouldn’t you?”

She paused. Didn’t say a word. I let it linger for a few seconds longer, then I couldn’t help myself.

“What?! No answer?!” I spat out.

“I’m still tired,” she replied, “I have to think about this.”

I was still just a little baffled, but I let it go.

“Even if it turns out you haven’t developed a crush, like you theorize, I can still tell you’ve discovered some things about yourself, so I commend you for that. Maybe later we can discuss some of the things you’ve learned.”

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s a crush,” Remora dismissed, as if she didn’t even listen to what I had to say, “but I’m going to deny it, because I already know a relationship wouldn’t work out.”

“I agree. As it stands, I don’t think either of you are ready for such things. Besides, I know how she used to be, but do you think that’s something she wants now?”

“What? That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to say, ‘go for it, what do you have to lose? You only live once, et cetera’.”

“I’m agreeing with something you said. Isn’t that good enough?”

“We’re friends, right, Ray?”

I put my palm over my head.

“Yes, Remora. We’re friends.”

“So you’ll tell me anything I wanna hear, right?” She closed her eyes, crossed her arms, and smiled.

“That’s not how that works.”

“I know, but can’t you just pretend?” Her smile lowered and she pleaded.

“OK. What do you want to hear?” I humored her.

She just slammed her head against the desk and groaned.

“Ugh...I don’t know. What should I do?”

“First you should get your head off my desk,” I instructed. She didn’t, at least not at first.

“Ugh...you’re so mean, Ray,” she whined before lifting her head.

“Now, you should go back to bed. You clearly need some rest.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” she blinked, her face back to the blank expression I was used to seeing on her. “What are you doing up so early, anyway?”

“I’m just sitting and thinking. I like to do it sometimes.”

“Wow. That’s such an old man thing to do. You’re not that old yet, you know,” she pointed out.

“Don’t you ever do that?”

“Only when I need to.”

“Well, then, I think you need to do some of that after you’ve gotten a little more rest. You said yourself after we got back last night that the reason she’s acting the way she is around you is because of what happened before you left over a year ago. So don’t you think that should be addressed first before any prospect of a relationship?”

“Hm. Yeah. OK. Back to bed I go.”

A few hours later, Tigershark had made pancakes with strawberry syrup for everyone. She, Sunny, and I sat together while Remora and Demetria sat alone in booths at opposite ends of the diner silence.

“So, I was thinking, hun, how we don’t really charge people for meals most of the time,” Sunny brought up in between bites of the fluffy pancakes.

“Yeah. We used to a few years ago, but there’s been many changes since then,” I replied.

“Right. But you don’t mind that we don’t charge, do you?” She pondered.

“I suppose not.”

“So I’ve got a couple of ideas: we could turn this place into a hotel and start charging. If we hire more staff, then it shouldn’t be all that stressful managing all those people. Yeah, we had to house many people already and it was awful because of the circumstances, but if people can go in and out, then it should be fine.”

“It would cost a lot of money to expand this space in order to accommodate,” I pointed out.

“Right. My other idea is: why do we need to be a business at all? Like, sure, the front half is pretty much designed like a business, but there’s nothing saying we have to. We get by just fine on our own as it is. So maybe we could provide free meals to anyone who comes in and advertise that.”

“So basically what we’ve already been doing, but announce it?”

“Yeah!”

“I won’t rule it out. Not sure if I really want the attention, but it’s an option.”

“What do you think, Tigershark?” Sunny turned to the kid.

“Hmm...oh! You could do both! Make it like a free hotel!”

I put my palm over my mouth and chuckled.

“So like a homeless shelter, but fancy...not bad, not bad. Still would be expensive to see it through, but it seems like the kind of thing Wendy would approve of. Not to mention, just like with the previous hotel idea, we’d have to hire more staff, and even if they’d live here with us, they’ll probably want to get paid for their labor.”

“Oh! Have you heard from Wendy?” Tigershark asked.

“Yeah, I talked to her last night. She’s doing fine. Just hanging out at the hospital.”

“That idea…” Sunny scratched her chin. “Tigershark, you’re a genius! It’s easy! We make lots of money by taking on requests again!”

“That’s one way...but then there’s the chance of Cronus striking at any moment. Sheesh, everything’s become so complicated.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out something, hun,” Sunny reached across the table and gave me a pat on the shoulder. When she sat back down, I felt my phone begin to ring. I picked it up and saw that it was Cybele.

“Oh my Goddess! This is the best day ever!” Cybele gushed over the phone, her excitement at maximum capacity.

“Is it really?” I chuckled.

“Yes! I can’t wait! I’m going to head back on over right away! Oh, but what should I do about the big house? Should I sell it? Should I give it to a homeless person? Oh, but if I do that, then they wouldn’t be able to afford to pay utilities, so that wouldn’t be very fair.”

“You can sell the house, then give the money to a homeless person,” I suggested.

“Yes! Brilliant! Thank you so much, Ray!” She hung up right after, without so much as a goodbye.

“Who was that?” Sunny asked.

“Cybele. She’ll be coming back soon,” I informed her.

“Awesome! We’re getting the band back together!”

“Band? What band?” Tigershark looked at the both of us, turning her head back and forth.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I explained.

After breakfast, Tigershark and I tended to the dishes. Once we had finished, I headed back to Sunny and I’s bedroom so I could fetch myself a book to read. We had an extensive collection along multiple bookshelves, enough that if we expanded the space just a bit more, we could have ourselves our own little library.

After much deliberation, I decided to settle on a collection of Akutagawa’s short stories. His tales were amusing, if nothing else, so it should at least pass some time away.

As I made my way back downstairs, I heard some commotion between Remora and Demetria.

“We need to set boundaries! So you stay at your end of the hallway, and I’ll stay at mine!” Demetria shouted whilst holding a stick of chalk.

“But the bathroom is on your end of the hallway and sometimes I have to pee. Also, what about showering?” Remora stated her case.

“You’ll have to get creative! We’re not good around each other, and this is a good solution!”

I made my way to the bottom of the stairs, then turned to the two.

“Hey Demetria, I need to cut something, so can I borrow one of your knives?” I asked.

She looked up at me, blinked, then dug into her pocket.

“Uh, sure, here.”

I took her knife and held it up, making a slashing motion into the air.

“Yep. It’s just as I thought. The tension in the air’s so thick that you have to cut through it with a knife.”

“What?!” Demetria stomped her foot at my little theatrics. I handed her knife back to her, then smudged out the chalk line on the floor with my foot. She, of course, took issue with that. “Hey! What are you doing? I’m setting boundaries, here!”

“You’re acting like a child, is what you’re doing.”

“Am not! She started it!” Demetria pointed at Remora. I faced Remora, who then backed away a step.

“I was just trying to talk things out with her, but I understand wanting space and I’m willing to compromise, but please let me take a shower sometimes,” Remora pleaded.

“There’s the bathroom in the dining hall,” I explained, “but yes, there’s no reason to restrict what bathroom you use. That’s just ridiculous.”

“First off, when she tried to talk things out, she just made things worse,” Demetria was still going at it.

“Look, I’m fine if you guys fight with each other, but can you two not take up so much space? Sit down at a table, or go to a room and go at it there,” I told them.

“I don’t want to go at it with her, I just want us to coexist,” Remora explained.

“We can’t coexist! We’re not good around each other!” Demetria shot back.

I shook my head. This was really trying my patience.

“Maybe you’re right,” I relented.

“Ha!” Demetria gloated.

“What I mean is, if you two can’t get along, you both can leave. We don’t need any of this bickering.”

“What?! You can’t do that! I was here first!” Demetria protested.

“Technically speaking, Remora was here first,” I pointed out.

“Well I came back first!”

“Well, I’m...uh...taller?” Remora interjected in an absentminded fashion.

You do realize this isn’t a competition, right?

“I’m serious. Get along or else,” I reiterated.

“But we can’t get along!” Demetria whined.

“...You won’t have to. I’ll be in my room, so, there should be no issues,” Remora stated, then walked away back to her end of the hallway. Even if she didn’t look like one, the image of a sad little puppy conjured up.

Once she entered into her room and closed the door behind her, I turned to Demetria.

“Anything you would like to drink? Tea? Coffee?” I offered. She looked up, confused, but answered.

“Espresso?”

“Very well. Go ahead and sit down, I’ll make you some.”

I brewed a cup of espresso, then set it down for her and sat across from her at the booth.

“What gives? First you say I’m acting like a kid, and now you’re rewarding me?” She asked after taking a sip.

I smiled before I spoke.

“I figured ‘let’s have a drink’ would sound less like you were in trouble than ‘let’s have a talk’.”

“I see. It was a clever ruse.”

“Not really. So, care to tell me what I missed?”

“Nothing much,” she scoffed, “she just came up to me and said she was sorry and that she’s started to feel things. I didn’t get it and I still don’t. She asked me if we could be friends, at least until she figured things out.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I asked if it was even possible for her to be friends with someone.”

“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh? It may have hurt her feelings.”

“Does she even have feelings?”

Can you not tell?

“Sure she does,” I answered, “maybe she doesn’t express them in the same way that you do, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t. I don’t know, but I’m thinking she’s started to figure that out as well.”

“I’m sorry, then,” she muttered, then slumped her head down onto the table. I wanted to get her head off the table, but...I let it slide.

“I don’t need any apologies.”

“Well, she said in response to that, ‘I don’t know, but I’d like to try’ and so I gave in and said that I guess I could do that much. It’s just, what does she mean?”

“I think she means that she’d like to be friends?”

“But what does that mean to her? Can I really do that? It’s not like I really know what to do with friends either. I’ve never been good at that kind of stuff.”

“In that case, maybe it will be a good learning experience for both of you.”

“Why...why does anything have to be a learning experience?” She grunted, “I don’t want any more learning experiences. That’s not what I came here for. I don’t even want to like her anymore.”

“Don’t want to?” I questioned.

“That’s...you get what I mean.”

I do. It’s just that you’re trying to convince me that you didn’t say what you meant.

“Demetria,” I commanded, “what is it that you want?”

She looked up, leaned back toward the window, and looked out.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Because you don’t have to be her friend if you don’t want to. It wouldn’t be right if you forced yourself to, would it?”

“Look: I came back to protect you guys. She wasn’t on my mind at all. I did everything I could to get her off my mind and just move on with my life, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the rest of you in a dangerous situation beyond your control. So if for nothing else, I wanted to return for that.”

“And I thank you for that. Seeing as the cat’s out of the bag, I think it’s fair to say you know what I think of you.”

“But I wish I didn’t have to be in disguise to hear it.”

“Yes, but I’m telling you now: we all like you. Tigershark likes you, even if she might like to pick on you sometimes. Sunny took a liking to you right away.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your wife from you,” she replied and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not what I meant, but I’m amused that you took it that way.”

She puffed her cheeks and scowled. I felt like getting a needle and popping one of her cheeks, though I doubted it would pop like a balloon.

“We’re all happy to see you back, don’t get me wrong. But you should have known that there was a chance of her coming back as well.”

“Really? I thought she didn’t care about anyone.”

“Oh, come now,” I flashed a toothy smile, “and I thought you knew better than to take people’s words at face value.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned to face me.

“Figure it out yourself.”

Again, she puffed her cheeks. I wasn’t going to spell it out for her, but I figured an elaboration was in order.

“Don’t get me wrong, even if she was how she was just a couple of years ago, she’d have justified it by saying ‘I’m only doing this because it’s my mess and I need to clean it up’ or something to that effect. But how is that any different than ‘I only came back to protect you guys?’”

“It’s plenty different! What? You saying I’m a liar? It was a big motivating factor! If I never heard that you guys were in trouble, I probably would have never returned. That would have been that. Like I said, I wanted to move on with my life.”

“I don’t want to put words in your mouth. You say you came back to bail us out, I believe you. And so you did and we are thankful, so now there’s nothing stopping you from moving on with your life.”

“Uh, yeah there is. Cronus is still out there and he could come back any time. What then?”

For a moment, I had forgotten that whole matter. Oh, such sweet ignorant bliss.

“It’s true he really had us on the ropes. Drove me to the point of despair, took lives right in front of me, all for the sole purpose of wearing me down. But if the same incident were to happen again, even more hopeless this time, I want to maintain compassion just to spite him. I want to learn everyone’s names, that way even if their lives end up lost to his petty game, at least they would be remembered. However, now that we have more knowledge at hand, going forward it will be that much easier to prepare. What I’m saying is that while there’s no guarantee, you shouldn’t have to hinder your future for our sake.”

“You wouldn’t be hindering my future,” she muttered.

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because if it’s something that I chose to do, then it’s on me.”

“I see. I’m just saying, you can choose to do other things. It’s true that there are times situations are out of one’s control, but you’re crafty in ways that even surprise me sometimes. If you need support, I could try and assist you in any way. Even if there’s something you want to do and you can’t achieve it, I’m just saying that I want you to have the option of trying.”

“Thanks,” she replied, then let out a dejected sigh, “she’s going to be disappointed. I’m not the same person she remembers.”

“So what? Why worry about disappointing her?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying, if she’s expecting things to go back to how they were before, she’s setting herself up for disappointment.”

“I think it goes without saying that we’ve all changed since we’ve last seen each other, but now I’m curious: how exactly have you changed?”

“First of all, I finished school. I can be a marine biologist if I want to now.”

“Good job. I’m proud of you,” I gave a little clap, “if you want to be a marine biologist, you should. There are many benefits to being a marine biologist. If you want to stay in the area, you can find an aquarium to work at and visit here from time to time. We could talk about how your job’s treating you, and how life’s been, and we can both share a good laugh.”

“I just don’t know. I didn’t get it because I want to be a marine biologist. I wanted to, once, but I don’t know. I didn’t finish school because I wanted to finish school, either, but because I didn’t want it to go unfinished.”

“So perhaps it was a pride thing less than interest?”

She either laughed or scoffed. It was hard to tell.

“Yeah. Might have been something like that. I...also killed a few people.”

That took me aback. Though not appalled, just surprised. But given where we were at, who she was talking to, she should have known that there wouldn’t be any moral condemnation.

“You and Remora have something in common, then.”

“Is this a joke to you?” She rasped.

I smiled and shook my head.

“No. At least not one I benefit from laughing at.”

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

“I doubt she enjoyed killing, either. She was just conditioned to treat it as a chore or routine. Just another assignment.” However…

“That said,” I continued, deciding not to keep my thought to myself, “there is a certain thrill she gets from intense fights, hunts, perilous situations. It may not be that she enjoys pain. Whether it be inflicting or receiving. But...it’s a rush that’s hard to satiate.”

Demetria gulped, as if she knew what I meant. Sensing that she was afraid to speak, I continued once more:

“There are things that she was conditioned to believe about herself, things that she’s told herself, that she’s had to unlearn. Then after that, there’s learning new beliefs in its place. I can’t imagine it’s easy. I’d say it’s probably been scary for her, as well, and in that process of challenging such old mindsets, she’d resist them. Maybe she’s changed since then, and she’s not the person you first had a crush on and maybe you’ve changed and you’re no longer the person she was hoping to see again, but even if that’s the case and things can’t work out between you two, I think you should still have a talk with her.”

“About what?”

I snorted, then coughed up a laughter. It wasn’t like she said anything funny, nor did it warrant a laugh, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Anything. Just say anything to clear the air. Even if nothing’s resolved after, at least it would be better than avoiding each other. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to, nor do you need to do it right away. If you need time, if you don’t feel ready, that’s fine. But I do think it should happen sometime.”

“It’s going to be hard to face her,” she replied, and some of the edge in her voice had diminished, in its place an aching timbre.

“I can imagine.”

“What if we try to talk, but then I snap or lash out and that just makes things worse between us?”

I shrugged.

“I’d rather than not be the case, but at least then you’d have made an effort. Forty percent is better than zero, y’know?”

“Sounds like a wasted effort if it still ends in failure.”

“No effort is wasted, dear.”

She got up from her seat without another word. Her face looked a little more relaxed, though I wondered how much that had to do with the talk and how much it had to do with the caffeine. Then again, there’s the possibility that giving her so much caffeine would have done the opposite of relaxed her and make her unable to sleep, so...my god, why did she want that? Why not some relaxing herbal tea?

After dusk, Tigershark made tartiflettes for everyone with buttered sweet rolls on the side. Again, Sunny, Tigershark, and I sat together, while the other two (no need to name names) sat far away from each other at opposite ends of the diner. Both were thankful for their meals, but they remained fixated on the food in front of them, not on anyone else, let alone each other.

Once that was said and done, I walked back to my desk, gathered up papers, and examined any possible requests or avenues in which to make money through unethical means. Just me, a middle aged man, sorting through papers. As if that was what my life had been reduced to. Even with my glasses on, the words all seemed to just bleed into each other after a while. Every little option or scheme carried with it some kind of risk, and balancing risk and reward...man, it was a stress and a half.

I reached into my drawer, hoping for a joint, but none were to be found.

Sunny must have taken them. She might even be getting higher than a hot air balloon in outer space right now. Lucky her. Can’t really blame her, either. To quote a certain little nun, we all ‘went through hell.’

Going back over to the stack of papers, I looked up and saw Demetria emerge from her room and saunter (maybe ‘saunter’ wasn’t the right word choice, but she couldn’t stop me from describing her movements that way) through the hallway. She caught my gaze and turned her head.

“You said it didn’t have to be right away, but better now than never,” she told me, before crossing the threshold into the other end of the hall.

I expected that she would have knocked on Remora and Tigershark’s door (I didn’t know where the kid was, at the moment. My suspicion was in the kitchen, either cleaning up, or baking treats for herself). Instead, I watched as before she could get to the door, she bumped her head on an invisible wall. I heard her hiss, “ow,” then slide her back down against the wall until she sat, legs folded up, and her head down.

“Figures you would put up a literal wall. You’re not really one for metaphors,” she muttered, “then again, at least you’re direct. Here I’ve been trying to keep you out of my mind and avoid you to little success.”

I figured after saying that, she’d get up and go back to her room, given that it didn’t seem to be the right time. Props to her, though. She was a persistent one.

“Funny how that works, huh? I started out all obsessed with you. I wanted you, or at least I thought I did. Well, I’m pretty sure I did. I had all sorts of fantasies you probably wouldn’t want to hear about. Somewhere around the line those fantasies faded and in their place, I just wanted to know you better. Even then, though, I was still pretty attached, and I still think I wanted you to notice me, more than anything else. Now…” She shook her head, “Ha. You don’t need the whole recap.”

She folded her arms over her legs. It was like she was trying to cradle herself, but she remained still and just held on tight.

“You probably can’t hear any of this. That’s fine, too. Maybe it’s better sometimes to talk to myself and pretend there’s someone else listening. I’d do it more often, but I don’t like the sound of my own voice.”

I watched as the illusion shattered, the wall must have come down, and in its place, Remora sat at the opposite end of Demetria, in the same position. To boot, her back was against Demetria’s.

“I only caught the last bit,” Remora spoke up, “what was the rest of it?”

Demetria, startled, but regained composure within the same sentence, replied, “I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“That’s fine. But what are you doing on the floor?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. I guess just to try to work something out. Figure out where to go from here.”

“Well, you don’t have to believe me, but I’m glad.”

“I’ll choose to believe you – but only because if you aren’t, it doesn’t really affect much, but if you are, then it makes things a little better.”

“But what if you believe me, but then it turns out not to be true?”

“Dammit. Why do you have to ruin this?”

“I just want to cover all the bases.”

Demetria huffed, then answered, “I think I’ll choose to believe you anyway. I know how I’ve been since we got back, but I really would like us to be on good terms as well.”

“Do you mean that?”

“What? Now you’re doubting me?”

“No. It’s just that if you didn’t want to, I’d have understood.”

“Well...when you asked about being friends, it really caught me off guard. For one, the last time the subject came up, it was how you said you could pretend if I wanted, but it wouldn’t be real. When you brought it up this time, it was ‘at least until I figure myself out’. Which means that maybe after a while, you’ll come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be.”

“I know. It’s a risk. One that you might not want to take. I can’t really say what conclusions I’ll come to or how things will turn out. But I prefer to be upfront about what’s on my mind and how I feel, and at the moment, how I feel is that I would like to try being friends with you. I think I’ve reached the point where I can say that whether it’s pretend or not is a moot point, because if I think of us as friends, then I’m going to treat it as real.”

“B-but...what does being friends even mean to you?”

There was a pause and Remora lifted her head up.

“I’m not sure. Friends are...friendly to each other? Well, that might go without saying. I know friends are people who like each other. Get along. But then there are friends who don’t get along. So I’m not sure. I feel like I should know, it just seems more vague when I try to put it into words.”

“Well,” Demetria replied, “that makes two of us. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, myself.”

“Then...we can not be good at it together,” Remora suggested. “Maybe we can both learn.”

“But how would we do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.”

“See? We can not know together.”

“But how would we both be friends if we don’t know how to be friends? That just makes no sense.”

“I know. But I think if we were both in elementary school, we wouldn’t think so much about that sort of thing. One of us would just go up to the other and be like, ‘let’s be friends!’ And either the other would say, ‘yeah!’ Or say something like, ‘ew! Go away!’”

“That’s kind of a cute idea,” Demetria remarked, “if only we had met that way.”

“Hm. I don’t know. Even as a kid, I preferred to be left alone.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too.”

“But now we’re adults and we’ve spent so much time wanting to be left alone that –”

“– you no longer want to be left alone?” Demetria suggested as she tried finishing that statement.

“Hm. No. I was going to say, ‘even if we have some friends, we don’t really know what it means.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true, too.”

“Yeah. But I like your answer better.”

“Yeah. But your answer applies to you and mine applies to me.”

“It’s kind of nice that way, though. Each different perspectives.”

“You know, when we talked earlier, and you asked me to hug you, it felt weird, but I said sure. So I held out my arms and walked up, but then you backed away and said you didn’t think you were ready after all and I didn’t take it well.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to, too. I’ve just never been comfortable with others touching me, and even if it would have been okay, I was still a little hesitant and nervous.”

“It’s okay not to be ready. I should know better. I was just hoping that things would be different.”

“They might be, in time.”

“You know, it’s still hard. Because I want to be friends with you, I do, and I feel like I should be happy about that, but then I just think about when we talked right before we both left and it hurts. Like, I was so convinced that we had gotten closer and that you cared, and hearing you say that you didn’t, I wanted it not to be true. But you pushed harder, and I just thought ‘maybe you’re right.’ Now you’re saying ‘I don’t know’ and it’s like, nothing’s really changed, has it?”

“You’re wrong there. I’m sorry about what I said and how it affected you and it makes sense that it would hurt, but you’re wrong in that nothing has changed. Before, I was so sure it was a ‘no’ and now I’m not so sure, but I’m more optimistic, and even leaning toward the possibility that it’s a ‘yes’. It just feels messy and gray.”

“I think I can understand that. To be honest, it’s going to be awkward. Us, as friends.”

“We’re awkward people, so it’s to be expected.”

“But at the same time, you might not like who I am now.”

“Maybe. But I’d rather find that out for myself. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You’re taking this rather well,” Demetria remarked.

“Not really. I’m just taking it.”

“Well, I’m just saying, I’m different than how I used to be.”

“I’ve changed as well, you know.”

“How?”

There are many obvious things you could say, so what is it you’ll say? I wondered. Remora lowered her head, and when she answered, it wasn’t an answer I would have expected. But then again, it wouldn’t have been her if she didn’t throw a few curveballs in between her signature style.

“If I was the old me, and I still had that job, and you were the target, then I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Demetria spoke in what was like a half mix between a growl and a tease.

“You wouldn’t even see me coming.”

“I’d like to see you coming.”

...What?

“Well, maybe with how you are now, you would. But then, maybe with how I am now, I wouldn’t mind you seeing me coming.”

This is still about a hypothetical assassination, right?

“I suppose that’s how we’ve both changed, huh?”

“It’s not much, but it’s honest work.”

“So what are you thinking about now?” Demetria asked.

“How much I have to pee,” Remora answered. “That’s why I undid the barrier, so I could go to the bathroom, but then I saw you sitting there talking so I figured I’d hold it and sit too.”

“Oh my fuck. Just go to the bathroom.”

“But we’re in the middle of a conversation. It would be rude.”

“That doesn’t matter! We can continue when you get back!”

“But then you might lose your train of thought or I might not feel like talking anymore and just head to bed –”

This is ridiculous. I’m done eavesdropping. I should’ve just left my desk the moment they started talking. Why did they have to talk in the middle of the hallway, anyway?

I got up and headed out into the front of the diner. If those two had anything more to say, they could have at it. As for me, I went into the kitchen to check in on Tigershark.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I greeted after a knock with the back of my hand.

“I made cookie brownies!” She cheered, and I saw a large casserole dish filled with brownies.

“Oh, good. May I have one?” I asked.

“You may have two!”

She put two pieces on a saucer for me and had two on her saucer as well and she jumped down from the stool she stood on and we both walked out into the dining hall and sat at a booth together.

“Mm. Good job,” I complimented.

“Thanks. I was still hungry and sweets are sweet.”

“That they are. Just don’t have too many.”

“I won’t!” She scowled. “Maybe three. Or four. But that’s it.”

We both laughed together as we ate our brownies. Just a few minutes later, Sunny walked up. She looked (not) high, and her eyes were (not) bloodshot red. I suppose she might have moved the stash elsewhere and planned to smoke them some other time.

“Hey hun, you gotta come check this out!”

“What? I’m busy spending quality time with Tigershark,” I replied. And it’s quality time because I’m not hearing about bodily functions.

“I see that, but this is important!” She urged, and motioned us to come to the back with her. Tigershark and I hopped out from our seats and followed. When we reached the hallway, Sunny pointed and went, “aww” and Tigershark and I saw what the fuss was about: Remora and Demetria were asleep, leaned against the wall, and backs against each other.

“I guess that’s what happens when you hold it in for so long,” I remarked, then, realizing I had said that out loud, added, “emotionally, I mean.”

“Aww, so adorable,” Sunny continued fawning over the scene.

“How am I supposed to get to bed tonight? They’re blocking the way!” Tigershark complained.

“It’s okay, you can sleep with us tonight,” Sunny replied.

“Tigershark,” I turned to the child next to Sunny and I, “get the broom and dustpan. There’s something on the floor.”

“Don’t!” Sunny nudged me, “leave them be.”

“Tigershark,” I continued, “I give you full permission to draw on their faces with a sharpie.’

in response, Tigershark grinned and ran off to go find one. While she was gone, I turned to Sunny.

“So, shall we head off to dreamland as well?” I offered.

“Oh yes. Two tickets, please,” she replied and yawned for added measure. We locked arms with each other and strolled up the stairs. I’d like to say that in the coming days, the dynamic between everyone improved greatly, but the truth is, it was more like slow and drunken baby steps.

#writing #stories #remoras full #settling down after a long battle #drama #comedy #slice of life #this took so long #high

2 notes · View notes

itshardcandy · 4 years

Text

Hot ‘n Cold

Kim Namjoon x Reader

(Written for a writing game by @letsgetitinbusan)

6059 Words

Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Smut

Warnings: Consumption of Alcohol, Swearing, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it, kids), Outdoor Sex, Vaginal Fingering

Summary: A camping trip takes an unexpected turn

Preview:

“You feel much warmer already.”

“Mhh, you are helping a lot with that.”

“I think I noticed. Good to know I can be of assistance. It’s getting quite hot in here, don’t you think?”

Bliss. Overwhelming and all-consuming bliss clouded your mind when you walked out the door of the lecture hall you just took your last exam of the semester in. Making your way through the crowd of students towards the nearest exit you hurried out of the building knowing you wouldn’t have to set foot in that hellhole that dares to call itself a university for the next beautiful, fun-packed, exciting 8 weeks of summer break. On the way back to the dorm, fully immersed in your phone, you suddenly felt a large hand gripping your shoulder. Hurling around, the grinning face of Namjoon, your friend and next-door dorm mate, appeared in your view.

“Guess who got himself full marks on their last project of the year?”

Namjoon exclaimed practically beaming with elation and pride.

“Hmm let me think… Must have been that dude you hung out with last week, right?”

You said teasingly, pretending to think hard to guess the answer to this, truly very difficult, question considering the genius mind of your friend.

“No, silly, it’s me of course.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and continued.

“Anyway, how was your exam? Any more luck this time?”

“Ugh, I wish. It was a disaster, my brain feels like it’s been sucked out of my head. I’d be surprised if I actually passed though knowing my prof, I highly doubt it. That man just can’t teach a class for the life of him. It’s an outrage he has the audacity to have us take an exam on that waste of a time his lecture was if you ask me.”

You rambled on frustrated but continued jokingly.

“I might have to borrow that big juicy brain of yours next time so I have an actual chance to succeed.”

“Ready to get wasted at the camp tonight then, I assume?”

“Hell fucking yeah I am.”

Laughing, you both continued down the paved road leading to the big grey building that was your dorm. Dragging yourself up the numerous sets of stairs you asked yourself for the thousandth time why exactly you’d thought picking a room on the 5th floor of a building that has no elevator was a good idea. Well, at least you had the best crackheads you could wish for as neighbours so that was something, you thought to yourself. Over the years you had lived on that floor, you and the others had bonded over your shared struggles of living in that falling-apart building and the uncountable tragedies that unfolded within those walls, including that one hot summer in which the rusty, ancient water pipe burst and thus none of the inhabitants had running water for two weeks straight. Out of that emergency situation a new tradition was born with all of you packing your essentials and riding your bikes down to the shore and going camping every summer during semester break.

“Bet Jungkook hasn’t even started packing?”

Namjoon said and knowing his room mate, you agreed.

“Better help him then, we should leave as soon as possible so we can secure our spot at the campsite. I don’t trust people these days, that spot is getting popular and I’m not taking any chances.”

With a last wave at him you unlocked your door and disappeared into your apartment. Ever since your former room mate and parter in crime had moved out earlier that month you had the flat to yourself and you still weren’t accustomed to having that much space for your stuff. Sadly, your flatmate had moved across the country meaning she couldn’t take part in the camping trip this year.

Scanning your possessions, you skilfully grabbed various items and articles of clothing you’d be needing for the next few days and threw them on the bed. After ticking everything off of your imaginary list, you began packing the pile of things into your backpack.

Not much later and after checking your groupchat to make sure that everybody was ready to go, you left your room and walked down the corridor meaning to knock on the door on the right. It immediately opened and Yoongi appeared in the frame, manoeuvring his belongings into the hallway.

“Good to go?”

You asked to which Yoongi hummed in agreement. You descended down the staircase together carrying your equipment.

“Is Jimin downstairs already?”

You wondered, since Yoongi’s room mate was nowhere in sight.

“Nah, he still got that dance performance with Hoseok this afternoon. They will join us later this evening.”

“Right, right, forgot about that.”

In front of the building Namjoon, Jungkook and Taehyung were already loading their luggage onto their bikes. When everybody was done you set off on your journey revelling in the beautiful feeling of freedom awaiting you at the camping site. After a good hour you turned into the path leading towards the clearing at the beginning of the small forest by the shore. Upon arrival Jungkook immediately spotted the car that was parked right beside the track.

“How does he manage to be here first every time? I swear he does that on purpose just to rear me up.”

Jungkook whined at the sight of his brother.

Pausing the unpacking of his luggage from the trunk of his car, Seokjin greeted you all with a wave and a big smile.

“Great! You made it just in time to help me unload the tents.”

“Speaking of, we need to agree on sleeping arrangements since a certain someone managed to rip theirs last year.”

Yoongi said and all eyes lingered on Namjoon who looked at the ground in shame.

“Let’s see… We got four tents. That means Taehyung and Jimin in their tent and Yoongi and Hoseok will share one, I guess? Then me in my tent and Y/N in hers. Which means Namjoon and Jungkook will have to seek shelter in one each. Any preferences?”

Jin spoke and looked at the two tent-less members of the group.

“I don’t mind sharing the tent with Y/N. Uhh... I mean if she doesn’t mind of course.”

Namjoon said quickly and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fine by me. As long as it’ll still be in one piece by the end of this trip.”

“Great, that’s settled then. Little brother, the honour of sharing a tent with this handsome guy is all yours.”

Jin said exaggeratedly gesturing at his face which Jungkook could only answer with a grimace, seeming a lot less excited about said fact than his brother was.

You busied yourselves to take the tents out of the trunk of the car and searched for the perfect spot to put them up. You walked across the clearing examining the ground thoroughly with Namjoon following behind with your tent under his arm.

“What about here? We’d get some shade from that big oak tree right there and it looks like the ground is as even as it can get.”

You asked and Namjoon agreed.

“Perfect. You really have a good eye for that. Remember the first time we went camping and you and your room mate placed the tent directly above a molehill?”

Namjoon laughed and you snorted at the memory.

“Please don’t remind me, I got the shock of a lifetime when suddenly something tried to make its way in from underneath the tent. Never screamed so loud in my life.”

“I remember you woke us all up thinking you were getting stabbed or something. Scared the shit out of me.”

Namjoon said and started setting the tent up. Since he was very skilled in putting the pieces together, you didn’t have to do much besides holding the poles up for Namjoon to drape the fabric around. After a few minutes the mission was accomplished and you looked pleased at the joint achievement.

“I’m really glad you picked me to share a tent with. Without you I would have been struggling a lot more to get it set up.”

“Well thanks for trusting me enough to let me into your holy cave.”

At that remark you stopped dead in your tracks and burst out laughing then turned to Namjoon with an incredulous look. Namjoon who seemed to have realised just now how much of an innuendo his comment had been covered his eyes with his right hand shaking his head in disbelief.

When the others were done setting up their tents, Taehyung and Jungkook began collecting some wood and stacked it into the fireplace that had been built in the middle of the clearing. The rest of your group took seats on the logs that were placed around the firepit and unpacked the food that you had brought. Jin and Namjoon took it upon themselves to act as masters of the meat and impaled sausages with some thin sticks to roast them over the fire. By the time the first batch was done, Hoseok and Jimin finally arrived and were greeted with shouts. They joined the jolly round busying themselves to some well-deserved dinner.

After you had devoured the sausages Hoseok whipped out a box containing some crackers, a bar of chocolate and a bag of marshmallows out of his backpack.

“Nothing better than some S’Mores when camping, am I right?”

Hoseok asked and handed the box around letting everybody grab some for themselves.

Jin nudged Taehyung in the shoulder who sat on his left and asked him to accompany him to his car. When they made their way back to the rest of the group, they were carrying bottles upon bottles of Soju.

“At the last wedding we catered for, those people ordered way too much alcohol and they refused to keep the leftover bottles so naturally I found a convenient solution to that problem and persuaded my boss to leave the good stuff to me. Not even he can resist my charms I assume.”

Jin told you and overall cheers complimented him.

“Awesome Jin, you working at a restaurant really has its perks.”

You said approvingly and happily accepted the bottle of peach flavoured Soju Taehyung handed you over.

While the supply of Soju slowly shrunk and the pile of empty bottles grew, your mood became more light-hearted over time and you all reminisced in the memories you had made over the years. Slowly but steady the sun set and it got darker. When the glowing red ball of light had finally disappeared completely behind the horizon Jimin and Hoseok declared that they were tired and proceeded to get ready for bed.

“That dance performance really makes itself felt now. Maybe I have to admit that I’m getting older.”

“Don’t worry Hobi, it took a toll on me as well. But at least we know we gave it our all.”

Jimin said and stifled a yawn. The two headed to the cabin at the edge of the clearing that contained a rather humble bathroom but at least it offered a tank of fresh water so that was something.

Gradually one after the other decided to go hit the hay and bid the remaining few people goodnight. When only Namjoon, Jungkook and yourself were left sitting around the fire, the three of you decided to play a drinking game resulting in Jungkook getting so drunk that he had to throw up. Namjoon hurried towards the bathroom in the cabin to get some water while you comforted Jungkook. You grabbed a napkin and wet it with the fresh water Namjoon had brought back and began cleaning around Jungkook’s mouth wiping the nasty residue from his face. Unfortunately, a lot had already dribbled down onto his shirt.

“I think you should get that thing off. We can wash it tomorrow but for now just change into a fresh shirt.”

You said to Jungkook and helped him out of the soiled piece of clothing. Jungkook who couldn’t control the movements of his limbs properly, let his right arm snap back after retreating from the sleeve of his shirt resulting in hitting the container of water Namjoon was still holding. A splash and Namjoon had gotten the majority of water over his chest. Cursing he let the now empty container fall to the ground. Namjoon tried to wipe some of the water off his body but it was useless, he was drenched. You laughed at the sight. It reminded you of a puppy who had just received an unwanted shower.

“We should get you to your tent so you can rest. Do you feel a bit better now?”

You asked Jungkook and he nodded. Namjoon helped you escort Jungkook to the tent he was sharing with Jin and made sure he got in alright, closing the entrance behind him.

Back at the fireplace, Namjoon stood by the flames as near as possible trying to get them to dry his shirt but the fire had already died down significantly so it didn’t really work. Resigning, he lifted the wet fabric above his head and threw it next to himself on the log. You couldn’t help but give him a sneaky glance. You had always thought of Namjoon as really handsome but something about him revealing his wet chest so shamelessly to you hit different.

“Do you wanna stay up or go to sleep as well?”

Namjoon asked and caught you off-guard in the act of looking him up and down, your eyes lingering on his chest a little longer than necessary. Flustered you directed your eyes away and shook your head.

“No, I wanna stay up, I want to enjoy this as much as possible.”

“You talking about my body or the night in general?”

Namjoon joked and you secretly asked yourself the same question. You proceeded to grab one of the last bottles of Soju and took a sip so you had an excuse not to answer.

“Want one as well?”

You asked and seeing him nodding, you handed him one of the bottles. After the first gulp he scrunched his nose looking appalled. Checking the label, he felt his worst suspicions confirmed.

“You gave me one of the flavour-less ones! What do you take me for – an animal? What have I done to you to deserve such torture?”

You laughed feeling not as sorry as you maybe should have as Namjoon looked really funny being so disgusted by his beverage.

“Sorry, I couldn’t see well and just picked the one nearest. Want a different one?”

You took a close look at the three remaining Soju bottles and gave Namjoon an apologetic smile.

“I’m afraid they are all plain as well. Seems like I got lucky and picked the last grape flavoured one.”

“So that’s what I get for trusting you. I feel betrayed.”

“Um do you wanna share mine? I don’t mind, I’ve had enough alcohol anyway.”

You offered your bottle to Namjoon and he didn’t hesitate to take it, chucking his own bottle away. How could he turn down such an offer when it appeared so temptingly? Taking turns emptying the drink, you sat in comfortable silence just listening to the occasional sound of the woodland creatures nearby and gazing up at the night sky. Here in the middle of the forest without all the street lights and neon signs lighting up the night, the stars were clearly visible and shone bright and clear. You loved the night sky, so naturally you were gazing upwards totally lost in the twinkling lights of the millions of stars.

You didn’t notice the lingering eyes of Namjoon who was admiring how the moonlight illuminated your silhouette. When exactly he had caught feelings for you, he wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that it somehow happened and when he finally came to terms with that, he was already crushing hard and even though there had been the occasional teasing and ambiguous situation he still didn’t think there was more to it than just that. You had been friends for ages so anything beyond that was surely out of the question, right? Therefore, he hadn’t given it much thought but the way you had looked at him when he took off his shirt didn’t go unnoticed and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if there was a possibility that he wasn’t the only one who had developed a crush over the years.

“Do you ever wonder why we are here on this earth?”

Namjoon was pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden question. You looked at him and continued your philosophical train of thought.

“I mean look, there are so many stars and planets up there. Why out of all places do we exist on this one? And think about it… The moon and the stars are so far away but we still see them. They are so huge we can actually see them from here. Isn’t that amazing?”

Before Namjoon could answer you rambled on.

“And we are so small. We are so small, Joon, why are we so small? So insignificant? The stars shine so bright even after they had died but we are just dead, just rotting. Why do I even bother accomplishing anything when in the end it means nothing and everyone will forget that I even existed?”

You finished and stared at Namjoon. The sight of you looking so desperate and sad devastated him.

“Y/N… That’s not true and you know it. You are so loved by your family and your friends. You could never be insignificant and of course the people around you will remember you. Please stop thinking so lowly of yourself, I can assure you, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Th-thank you… I suppose I had to much Soju, I’m sorry you had to witness me spiralling into another existential crisis.”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah… friends.”

You mumbled and looked up at Namjoon. Your eyes met, holding the gaze for a bit longer than expected before Namjoon cleared his throat.

“So, do you wanna go to bed? It’s getting quite late.”

“Hmhm yeah it’s getting colder, as well, now that the fire went out.”

You shivered suddenly at the cold air of the night, missing the warmth the fire had provided. Namjoon stood up and checked the fireplace to make sure it was really gone out so you wouldn’t accidentally set the whole forest on fire while you slept. You collected the remaining bottles that were scattered around the firepit and added them to the already remarkably high pile of bottles you had all emptied together. Finding the way to your tent turned out to be a lot more difficult, now that it was almost pitch black. You stumbled over a root that was sticking out of the ground and could only save yourself from falling by gripping onto Namjoon’s wrist tightly. He swayed back at the sudden weight pulling on his arm but managed to steady himself in time.

“Are you alright?”

Namjoon asked concerned and turned around. You were still holding onto his wrist but had found your balance again. When you let go of his arm Namjoon held his hand out to you.

“Wouldn’t want for you to trip again. Really, why don’t you wear your glasses more often? Couldn’t read the label on the Soju bottle, couldn’t see that big root. Honestly I’m surprised you managed to survive without getting into any serious accidents yet.”

“Come on it’s not that bad. And I hate my glasses, I look stupid wearing them.”

You scoffed. You hated your glasses with a burning passion but were too lazy to go get new ones that you would actually consider wearing.

“You don’t, you look cute with them and not stupid, at all, but if you prefer to stumble through life like a mole squinting at everything then suit yourself, I guess.”

“Thanks, I will. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance of being escorted to my humble sleeping accommodation by my chivalrous saviour now, would I?”

You said cheerfully and took Namjoon’s hand. You continued the short walk towards your tent. When you’d reached it, you opened the zipper and crawled inside and Namjoon followed you straight. Leaving your shoes in front of the entrance you slipped out of your pants. You made yourself comfortable in your sleeping bag while Namjoon rid himself off his jeans and tucked himself into his sleeping bag as well.

“Joon, can you hand me the water bottle? I feel like a raisin, all that Soju dried me out beyond measure.”

Namjoon felt his way through the items popped into one corner until he found the requested bottle.

You took it and quenched your thirst, downing almost half of the bottle in one go.

“Hey, leave me some okay? You’re not the only one who’s thirsty.”

You reluctantly stopped gulping down the water and held the bottle out in the direction of Namjoon. Since it was almost completely dark inside the tent, Namjoon had problems to make out the bottle causing him to hit it with the back of his hand. With a shriek from you the bottle flew out of your hand and landed on your legs, letting the water flow all over your sleeping bag.

“Y/N I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Did you get wet, is it bad?”

Namjoon apologized and pat his hand over your sleeping bag to see how badly he had fucked up but all you could do was laugh, being already so used to his clumsiness.

“It’s okay, really. But I won’t be able to sleep in that thing, it’s soaked and it’s getting cold tonight.”

“No worries, you can sleep in mine. It’s my fault that yours is wet, after all, so that’s only fair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll be freezing.”

“I won’t, I can stand the cold better than you, so just take mine and go to sleep.”

In the end you didn’t want to argue and the thought of sleeping without a cover wasn’t that enticing either, so you just got out of your wet bag and threw it out of the tent. When you wiggled into Namjoon’s sleeping bag which was a lot more spacious than yours and conveniently was already preheated by Namjoon. You felt the overpowering fatigue that set in and quickly slipped into unconsciousness.

After a while, you woke up at the sound of teeth chattering. You turned around only to see Namjoon laying curled up into a ball and shivering.

“S-sorry, did I wake you up?”

“What the fuck do you think you are doing? Do you want to freeze to death?”

“It’s f-fine, don’t worry. Just get back to sleep.”

“Fine my ass. Do I look stupid to you? Come here, your sleeping bag is a lot bigger than mine. We might have to squeeze a bit but I think we can both fit.”

You opened the zipper and shuffled towards Namjoon. When he had squeezed himself in, he tried to close the sleeping bag but it was no use.

“Doesn’t matter, just leave it open. It’s better than nothing isn’t it?”

You said and Namjoon turned around only now realizing just how close you were.

“God, how are you not frozen solid yet, you are ice-cold!”

“Not everyone can be as hot as you.”

You let out a small chuckle and pressed yourself closer to Namjoon’s body, making yourself comfortable as the little spoon.

“Then I’ll try to make you hot, as well, lying beside a fucking block of ice truly is no fun.”

Namjoon thought you had no idea how right you had been about making him hot. While the two of you had occasionally cuddled during movie nights at the dorm, nothing came close to just how close you were now with nothing between you, except for your underwear and your shirt. With you next to him and the added warmth of the sleeping bag around, Namjoon started to defrost and soon he was engulfed in the warm feeling, ready to fall asleep but he was too aware of your body pressed into him. It really wasn’t necessary for you to push your ass that far into his groin, he thought. It was almost as if you were doing that on purpose just to drive him crazy. But maybe he was misinterpreting everything and he would make a fool out of himself.

As if on cue Namjoon felt you move your body just a bit, letting yourself grind into him slightly. Throwing all caution over board he put his arm around your waist pulling you even closer and letting his hand rest on your stomach. You let out a satisfied sigh and proceeded to move yourself against him. The friction had its effects on Namjoon who noticed himself hardening, very aware that you must feel it too since his boxers barely concealed anything. You however, were finally content that your actions bore fruit. You had been sure of the potential that lay in yourself and Namjoon to be more than just friends and you were determined to find out if you were right about that during this camping trip. Sharing a tent was the best opportunity you could have wished for and considering the very noticeable bulge you felt being pressed into your back from behind you had been right with your assumptions.

“You feel much warmer already.”

“Mhh, you are helping a lot with that.”

“I think I noticed. Good to know I can be of assistance. It’s getting quite hot in here, don’t you think?”

You said and took off your shirt to throw it to your feet. You then turned over now facing Namjoon. He was taken aback by this sudden change and could feel your breath on his bare chest. You placed your hand onto his stomach and slowly progressed to explore his toned body.

“How exactly do you think this is helping us to cool down?”

Namjoon asked, sucking in his breath when you let your fingernails graze the side of his upper body.

“When did I say I wanted to cool down?”

You asked quietly, tilting your head up so you could meet his gaze. This was enough to convince Namjoon that he was allowed to act upon his feelings. He let his hand rest at the back of your head and leaned forward until your lips finally collided. He pulled you closer to himself and you wrapped your arms around his torso. The kiss became more heated and Namjoon let his tongue poke through his lips so you parted yours to let it in. When you had to let go of each other to be able to breathe again Namjoon stared at you, having to process for a moment if this was actually happening. With a huge grin you threw yourself onto him again to continue the kiss. Namjoon’s hands wandered up and down your back brushing against the straps of your bra. You felt his finger hesitate on the hooks of your bra.

“Go on – open it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, do you need a written declaration of consent?”

You giggled at how considerate he was being.

“Just wanted to make sure so you won’t hold it against me later.”

He smirked and with one move of his fingers he had opened the bra and pulled it away from underneath your body. Within seconds you found yourself turned over so you were laying on your back with Namjoon on top of you. With one hand he propped himself up to not crush you completely while his other hand immediately found its way to your breasts. Namjoon kissed you once more before he let his mouth trail down your chin and neck leaving hot kisses on your skin. You had closed your eyes revelling in the addictive feeling when you felt a sudden burst of pain shooting up from your breasts causing you to let out a surprised moan. Namjoon had pinched your right nipple with the hand he was using to massage your boobs. You opened your eyes in shock and found Namjoon smiling mischievously up at you. He had been keeping his eyes on you to observe how you reacted to his actions and was visibly enjoying himself. Letting his hand travel down to your stomach resulted in his face being conveniently positioned exactly over your breasts so he didn’t hesitate and began to caress them with his lips. Namjoon sucking on your tits while simultaneously exploring your still covered pubic area with his free hand had you aroused in no time and you could already feel your panties getting soaked from the movements of his hand, which Namjoon also didn’t fail to notice.

“Seems like you can get me wet in more than one way.”

You said referring to the accident earlier and Namjoon couldn’t refrain from laughing causing his body to vibrate which let his fingers move against your crotch in a delightful manner.

“Well, I know which way I prefer.”

Namjoon said when you let out another moan. He hooked his finger into your panties and pulled them down, so you lay before him completely undressed. His hands caressed your thighs for a bit until he put light pressure onto them to spread them open for him to kneel in-between. You suddenly felt the imbalance in your levels of being undressed, so you sat up catching Namjoon’s lips in a needy kiss while letting your hands palm his hardened length through his boxers for a moment before pushing the unnecessary piece of clothing down his legs so both of you were equally nude. Namjoon pushed you back to lay down again and you obliged. He let his one hand return to your breasts while the fingers of his other hand slid through your slick folds.

You didn’t want him to feel neglected and reached down so you could wrap one of your hands around Namjoon’s dick. Though your grip was only light, Namjoon let out a groan of pleasure at the sudden sensation. Encouraged by his response you slid your hand up and down his shaft and let your thumb graze over his tip every other time using the leaking drops of pre-cum to lube his length up. Namjoon stopped moving his fingers through your folds only to enter you with one finger a moment later. You let out a quiet mewl at the unexpected sensation. You kept your gaze on him, mesmerized at how Namjoon had closed his eyes and thrown his head back in pleasure when you had sped up your movements on his dick.

“God, Y/N, that feels so fucking good.”

Namjoon said letting out a sharp breath when you grazed his tip another time. Keeping up the pace Namjoon had set pushing in and out of your wetness he soon added a second finger. You whined at the delicious feeling and started speeding up jerking off Namjoon. When you felt the movements of his fingers getting unsteady you stopped only for Namjoon to shoot you a questioning look.

“Don’t give me that face. I don’t want you to finish now when the real fun hasn’t even started yet.”

You said and raised one of your eyebrows teasingly.

“But I don’t have any condoms with me. Do you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m on birth control, don’t you remember?”

“So, you are sure you want this?”

“Jesus, Namjoon, just fuck me already.”

You laughed, a little desperate by now.

Namjoon let out a low growl, your words being music in his ears. He moved his body back up to lay down next to you and involved you in another steaming kiss. Namjoon grabbed you by your waist and helped you get up. Straddling him, you sat on top of him and bowed down to kiss him again. He lifted your hips just a bit so he could position himself properly. With a last look into your eyes he lowered you down letting himself enter you slowly. You gasped at the wonderful sensation.

When Namjoon had pushed his length completely into you he held still for a moment to let you get accustomed to his size before he started moving your hips back and forth. When you began moving your hips yourself, with your hands placed on his chest for support, Namjoon moved his hands from your hips to your chest. Setting a steady pace, you began riding Namjoon, totally lost in the pleasure and Namjoon thought he had never seen you look more beautiful. He continued to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples occasionally which caused you to feel the familiar knot form in your stomach.

“Fuck, Joon, I’m close.”

You gasped out between moans and dug your nails into his chest. Namjoon felt himself near his orgasm as well but he was determined to finish second. He held onto your hips again and lifted you just a bit so he could thrust his hips into you from below giving you the chance to let yourself go completely.

“Don’t hold back, baby. I want you to come all over my dick.”

These words combined with Namjoon thrusting into you was enough to send you over the edge. Letting the waves of hot pleasure roll over you, you came undone moaning Namjoon’s name. Seeing your face of pure ecstasy and hearing his name come out of your mouth did it for Namjoon and he let his orgasm overwhelm him.

Panting, you both came down from your orgasms. You let Namjoon’s dick slide out of you so you could lay down again besides him. Smiling at each other like complete idiots you tried to catch your breath.

“I can’t believe it took so long for this to happen.”

“Well. I didn’t think it would happen at all. I thought you’d never see me as more than a friend.”

Namjoon responded and you looked at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?? Kim Namjoon, you might be a genius on paper but when it comes to flirting you suddenly lose all ability to think.”

You laughed and Namjoon joined you.

You noticed the tiredness starting to set in again so you cuddled up to Namjoon and closed your eyes. You felt Namjoon place a kiss on your forehead then drifted away with Namjoon falling asleep soon after.

In the morning, you woke up from the blinding sunlight flooding the tent and heating it up even further. With your eyes still closed, you went over the events of the previous night smiling to yourself. When you opened them, you stared into the brown eyes of Namjoon.

“Morning sleepyhead.”

Namjoon said and scrunched up his nose when you poked him in the stomach.

“You know it’s creepy to watch people sleep?”

“I’m sure you can make an exception?”

“Hmm, kiss me and I might think about it.”

You grinned and Namjoon happily did as told. Since the morning sun made it almost unbearable to stay inside the tent any longer, the two of you got dressed and you tied your dishevelled hair up into what you hoped would look like an intentionally messy bun. When you crawled out of the tent you saw Hobi, Jin and Yoongi already sitting around the fireplace having some sandwiches for breakfast. Upon joining the others, Namjoon and you were greeted with knowing looks.

“Ah, finally, the two night owls grace us with their presence.”

Hobi said jokingly.

“Did you sleep well?”

Yoongi asked with a cheeky smile while raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, we somehow all woke up because of some suspicious noises in the middle of the night. You don’t think you know where they came from, by any chance?”

Jin continued amused.

Namjoon tried not to make eye contact with them and instead preceded to scratch himself at the back of his head.

“Ah come on, now you’re being shy? Last night you didn’t bother if someone could hear us.”

You said and slightly bumped Namjoon in the side with your elbow, earning laughter from the other boys.

“It’s still embarrassing...”

Namjoon mumbled but relaxed himself and grabbed one of the sandwiches Jin had held in his direction handing you the other one.

When Namjoon placed a quick kiss on your cheek before taking a bite off his sandwich you thought that this year’s camping trip was definitely going to be your favourite so far and the fun had just started.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon x you #bts Namjoon #hardcandywriting #kim namjoon

72 notes · View notes

kimjoongs · 4 years

Text

the line between realities ; k.hj

pairing none (just hj marinating in his thoughts)

genre diary film au, angst, minor fluff

word count 2.3k

warning(s) cursing

taglist @yunwoo @deonghwa @toffee-hwa @fairyofdusk @peachjaem00 @atinykidult

dia’s note just a short little thing i whipped up last night, no real rhyme or reason to it !

synopsis hongjoong vaguely recalls the moments before everything went to shit.

seoul, sk 160629 4:33 p.m.

Hongjoong’s Log

Today was our first day of practice. If I’m being honest, we all sucked. It took us more than an hour to learn the first 30 seconds. I could tell everyone was slowly getting frustrated with the lack of progress, but it was only our first practice. I told them that this was to be expected. Fortunately, that seemed to ease their minds, even if it was only a little.

After practice, none of us felt like leaving just yet, so we hung around in the warehouse a while longer. There’s an old basketball hoop attached to one of the beams, so Jongho, San, Yeosang, and Mingi are over there playing. Wooyoung and Yunho are sitting on one of the sofas, talking animatedly about Wooyoung’s last dance battle, and Seonghwa is sitting next to me, reading a book he found in the corner.

It’s kinda strange. This was our first time meeting all together, but it feels like we’ve known each other for years.

I hope it stays like this.

“Watch out!”

Hongjoong barely had time to look up before he was hit square in the face by a basketball. He fell back with a yelp, his chair tipping over until it came down with a sharp clatter, taking Hongjoong along with it. He landed on the concrete with a thud, the sound bouncing off the walls. A hiss of pain left his lips, and he rolled over onto his back, head spinning as his eyes adjusted due to the sudden impact.

“Shit–”

“Hongjoong!”

“Good going, San.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Hongjoong, still dazed and confused, felt a hand on his shoulder. A look to his right revealed the face of Seonghwa, who peered down at the other with nothing but concern. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips set into a frown.

“Hongjoong?” he murmured softly. “You okay?”

By now, the others have already gathered around the fallen male, mirroring Seonghwa’s expression. Although San’s was a bit more prominent as he held onto the basketball tightly, the same one that caused Hongjoong to fall over in the first place.

Hongjoong groaned, rubbing his aching nose with his hand. With the help of Seonghwa, he gently pushed himself up into a sitting position and took a moment to make sure that he wasn’t going to keel over before standing up, wincing when he felt his joints crack.

“Damn, I’m getting old,” he muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from Yeosang who stood closest to him. He glanced back at the rest of the group, eyes falling on San, who looked about ready to spew out a plethora of apologies.

Hongjoong beat him to it.

“It’s okay, San. I’m fine,” he assured with a smile. The younger’s eyes widened at the apology, and he bit his lip.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

The others laughed fondly, and Yunho reached over, swinging his arm around San’s shoulders, pulling the shorter male towards him. A soft, wispy sigh came from behind, and Hongjoong peeked over his shoulder. Seonghwa gazed back at him with an exasperated look, but the tender glint in his eye said more than words ever could.

What am I going to do with you people?

Hongjoong smiled, turning back.

The others had already begun to return to their previous activities, leaving Hongjoong and Seonghwa at the table. The former bent down and picked up the chair, plopping down on it once it was upright. Seonghwa breezed past his own chair and chose to sit on the table instead, crossing his legs. He glanced down at Hongjoong briefly before turning his attention back to his book, flipping the pages until he found the one he left off on.

The notebook Hongjoong had been writing in laid flat, the finished entry staring up at him, leaving Hongjoong to wonder if the words would start shifting. The more he looked at it, the more the letters moved— dancing down the page, line by line by line, until they reached the end.

He blinked. The letters froze.

With a sigh, Hongjoong closed his notebook, pushing it aside. He leaned back into the chair, mindful not to let it tip over again, and closed his eyes.

And that’s when he heard it. Music.

Hongjoong opened his eyes, wordlessly scanning the building for the source of the sound. His gaze fell on Jongho, who was no longer playing basketball with the others, but stationed on one of the sofas instead, strumming an old acoustic. Where did he even find that?

The rest of them, save for the two eldest, sat in an irregular circle around the younger, watching him with rapt interest. Jongho hummed along with the notes, a soothing melody that wrapped itself around each and every one of them, providing a sense of comfort they’ve never felt before.

His fingers smoothly glided over the frets, like a figure skater drifting seamlessly across the ice. The strings vibrated, filling the space with a mellow yet saccharine timbre, a rather far cry from the harsh, hard-hitting beats they danced to earlier.

Hongjoong was entranced to say the least.

He was so entranced that he almost failed to notice Seonghwa softly singing along next to him. Almost.

Whipping his head to the side, Hongjoong stared wide-eyed at the brunette, mouth parting slightly in shock. Seonghwa paid him no mind and continued his musical ministrations, not a single beat behind Jongho. In fact, he seemed to be a beat ahead even.

“You know this song?” Hongjoong whispered, finally catching the other’s attention. Seonghwa froze mid-note. He stared back at Hongjoong before shyly looking away, as if he hadn’t meant for Hongjoong to hear him.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I do.”

He wasn’t sure why Seonghwa had reacted that way. Maybe he was shy? Maybe he never sang in front of anyone before, and it just slipped out? Hongjoong didn’t know.

But what he did know was—

“Well, your voice sounds really nice.”

Seonghwa gawked at him. “Uh– What?”

“Your voice. It’s nice.”

Seonghwa blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then—

“Thank...you?” He said it with uncertainty, but his eyes shined brighter than any star Hongjoong had ever seen. Hongjoong giggled at the dazed look on his face.

“What? Has no one ever told you that before? Don’t tell me I’m the first,” he gasped dramatically, placing his hand on his chest. Seonghwa laughed breathily, shaking his head.

“No, you’re...you’re actually the second.”

Hongjoong clicked his tongue in disappointment “Second place– what a shame.Who beat me to the punch?”

Seonghwa’s smile dropped, only slightly, and he turned his head away before Hongjoong took notice.

He knew the younger didn’t mean to, but his question had opened up more wounds than Seonghwa could handle. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, right where his heart should be. He mentally cursed, disappointed with himself.

It had been over a year since then, yet Seonghwa was still very much affected by it.

He swallowed the huge lump forming in his throat, blinking away the set of fresh tears in his eyes, and looked back at Hongjoong. The blue-haired male was gazing at him, waiting patiently for a response. Seonghwa managed to force one out.

“Oh, just a– a friend. An old...friend.”

If Hongjoong noticed the inner turmoil Seonghwa was experiencing right now, he didn’t mention it. Satisfied with his answer, Hongjoong nodded, standing up.

“Well, if it means anything to you,” he said, patting the brunette on the back, “you should keep singing.”

Hongjoong gave him one last smile, and then he trotted off, joining the others on the couch. Seonghwa watched him. This time, he couldn’t stop the single tear that ran down his cheek.

Because for the second time in his life, Seonghwa was rendered speechless.

As someone who prided himself to be a source of comfort for others, a walking positive affirmation for those with troubled minds and aching hearts, he was quite clueless when it came to his own troubled mind and aching heart. Seonghwa was all too used to people coming to him whenever they sought support and care. Words were his way of healing, so it was only natural for him to be good at it.

What he wasn’t good at was receiving those same words in return. Not because he was humble or anything, he just– he wasn’t used to it. The people he interacted with on a daily basis were quite stingy with their compliments, and Seonghwa knew that, he accepted them for what they were worth (even if they held little to no value). He was perfectly fine with being the pillar to lean on; he didn’t want compliments or encouragement from other people.

But Seonghwa was still human. Humans had needs.

Maybe he didn’t want it, but he certainly needed it.

A disbelieving laugh left his lips as Hongjoong’s words repeatedly rang through his mind like a broken record, with no end and no beginning.

“You should keep singing.”

Seonghwa, you should keep singing.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth.

seoul, sk 160706 5:44 p.m.

Hongjoong’s Log

Practice just ended. We all got really hungry after, so we decided to go to a nearby convenience store. We’re sitting around this small, plastic table just outside the store. Some of us are eating, the rest talking. Except for me.

Mingi’s been teasing me this whole time about bringing my notebook around. He said I’d much rather write than talk with the rest of them. He’s not wrong.

I’m kidding.

But back to the practice, we definitely made a lot more progress compared to last week. I’m not sure what caused the sudden spur of motivation, but it’s very much appreciated. We’ve all been getting along super well too. I’m glad. Things seem to be working out great for us.

“Hongjoong, stop writing and eat,” Yeosang chided, pointing to the untouched bowl of ramen with his chopsticks. There was a hum of agreement from Wooyoung, who was currently chowing down on a hot bar while Yunho vehemently wiped away the sauce on his cheek.

The others were quiet, too focused on eating to put their two cents in, but Hongjoong didn’t need them to. He tucked his pencil into the spine of his notebook and hid it away in his backpack. Mingi noticed and snickered.

“Why are you being so cautious?” he asked with a smirk. “Afraid that we’re gonna take a peek and uncover your deepest, darkest secrets or something?”

Hongjoong snorted, bringing the bowl of ramen closer and separating his chopsticks. “No, just making sure you don’t steal my plans for world domination.”

“You want to take over the world?” Yunho piped up, mid-bite.

“How do you plan on doing that?” San asked, munching on his rice snack.

“Don’t care how you do it– the world is shitty enough as it is. There’s no way you could possibly make it worse.” Jongho waved his hand dismissively, not even looking up from his bowl.

“Thanks, Jongho.” Hongjoong ruffled his hair. “Remind me to make you my right hand when the time comes.”

A chorus of complaints rang out amongst them, and he rolled his eyes, smiling.

Hongjoong was anything but a closed book. He was very vocal about his feelings and would never turn down the opportunity to dump his cup and spill out his emotions. However, his lack of resistance to vulnerability was contingent on his willingness to trust. He was an open person, yes, but that didn’t mean he was going around telling random strangers about the deepest, darkest parts of his overworked heart.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this group yet. Sure, he was the one who dragged them all into...whatever it was they were doing, but Hongjoong never had the chance to really get to know each of them. In his eyes, they were all eight, vastly different people with a mutual understanding.

An understanding of what? None of them knew.

Yet here they were, having only been a group for a week and chatting it up like they’ve been friends since birth. And in another life, another dimension– they were exactly that.

“San,” Seonghwa scolded gently. “Slow down with the soda. I promise it’s not going anywhere.”

Said male hesitated, staring at the eldest over the can held up to his lips. He grinned sheepishly and set the soda down on the table.

“How the hell are you still functioning?” Wooyoung demanded, narrowing his eyes at the other.

“What do you mean?” San’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Well, judging from the amount of battery acid you’ve consumed, I’m surprised you haven’t passed a kidney stone yet.”

While the others laughed at the snarky comment, San remained quiet. His brows were still scrunched together, but it was more so in thought rather than confusion. Then, he shrugged his shoulders, looking nonchalant.

“I did when I was little. Had to go to the hospital for it.”

Yeosang grimaced from across the table. “How’d that go?”

“Mmm, fine, I guess,” San said noncommittally. “Hurt like hell, but I was okay when it was over. I had to promise my parents I would drink more water though.”

“And did you?” Hongjoong leaned forward, somehow intrigued. San brought the can back up to his face, mouth quirking up into a smirk.

“Nope.”

seoul, sk 160712 5:01 p.m.

Hongjoong’s Log

Not much progress was made today, but I can’t complain. Today was fun. Once again, none of us wanted to go home just yet, so we’re still here. Jongho brought out the guitar again, and we all sat and listened to him sing. He has a really beautiful voice, and I’m glad he shared it with us.

Last week I learned that Mingi was into rap and producing music, so he and I set up a makeshift studio in the corner of the warehouse. It wasn’t professional or glamorous by any means, but it would get the job done.

Also, I know it’s still technically summer, but recently the days are beginning to feel shorter. I wonder if the others feel the same way. Maybe it’s just me? I don’t know.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. I should probably stop here for today.

Hongjoong tossed the notebook to the side, letting it flop onto the leather couch. He glanced over to his left and noticed Yeosang sitting alone at the table, mindlessly gazing out the window. Frowning, Hongjoong stood up and made his way over to the younger, ignoring the impending sense of foreboding nestled deep in his gut.

What he didn’t notice was the pair of narrowed eyes watching him intently from the other side of the warehouse.

“Mind if I sit here?” Hongjoong hopped up on the table, startling Yeosang when the table jerked slightly to the side.

He peered up at Hongjoong momentarily, shaking the pieces of hair out of his face. The hand that was nestled comfortably in his lap curled up into a loose fist, fingernails just barely grazing the soft skin of his palm.

“No, I don’t mind,” he murmured quietly, turning his attention back to the window. Soft streams of sunlight penetrated the cracked glass, leaving gold patches on the concrete floor. Speckles of dust floated in the light; some drifted down, down, down until they disappeared in the absence of light, while others remained suspended in one spot, floating aimlessly in their own little world, unperturbed by actions of their surroundings.

For some reason, Yeosang felt a little envious.

“Hey Hongjoong, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

He curled his hand even more.

“Which one do you prefer? Night or day?”

Hongjoong paused– not because he was confused, but because he was mulling over the question. He wanted to give a proper, serious answer, and Yeosang took careful note of that.

“Mmm, probably night,” he said after a moment. “I’m a night owl, so I tend to be more productive during that time.”

It was true. Hongjoong found daytime to be more of a hustle and bustle. People were always outside; adults borderline speeding on their way to work, teenagers sprinting down the street to get to school on time, children racing through the park and tagging their friends. The air was abuzz with timeless chatter and lively debate, telling stories and revealing secrets that were clearly not meant for the ears of the innocent.

Hongjoong loved daytime, don’t get him wrong, but the night had its own unique charm. One that he had a special connection to.

A time when the streets gradually mellowed out as people settled themselves into their homes. The day star faded under the horizon, dragging the vibrant colors of the sky down with it, leaving behind a dark navy canvas, absolutely riddled with dazzling moondust. The chatter died down and the air was calm and soothing.

Hongjoong appreciated it.

“Why?” Yeosang suddenly asked, and Hongjoong was surprised to hear how tense the blond sounded. “Why do you like it so much?”

“Because it–” He stopped himself, unsure. “Promise me you won’t laugh?”

Yeosang nodded, never breaking his composure. Hongjoong figured that was as good a confirmation as any.

“Well, I just think it’s comforting. It’s easier to let myself go, let myself feel and do whatever I want,” he breathed out a laugh. “Like– this is gonna sound super cheesy, but I feel like no matter what I do, the decisions I make, they’re going to be met with no judgement. No one’s around to witness me make an ass of myself, so who’s gonna say anything? Certainly not the stars, nor the moon.”

Yeosang’s nails dug deep into his flesh. Hongjoong kept going.

“I can fuck up all I want, but I know they’ll always be there the next night, sort of like a- a beacon of hope, I’d say.”

Yeosang, look up at the stars!

He wanted to throw up. The taste of bile was there on the tip of his tongue. He unclenched his fist and grabbed onto the edge of the table, gripping it tightly.

“Hey– whoa, are you okay?” Hongjoong suddenly leaned forward, resting his hand on the blond’s shoulder, worry laced in the tone of his words. “Yeosang? Yeosang, are you–”

“I’m fine!” he exclaimed, moving away from the other’s touch. Hongjoong instantly retracted his hand, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. He apparently must have done a terrible job because Yeosang took one look at him and sighed, combing his hands through his hair.

“Sorry, Hongjoong, I just–” He covered his face and rubbed his eyes. “I...I don’t feel well. I think I’m gonna head home.”

“O-Oh okay, do you want me to walk you to the–”

“No,” Yeosang cut him off sharply, but more gentle than before. “No, I can go by myself. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Before Hongjoong could get another word in, Yeosang was already up and out of his chair, picking up his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. He didn’t even bother to greet the others goodbye before he was slipping through the doors and out into the sunlight.

Perturbed by his friend’s capricious behavior, Hongjoong was frozen at the table. The others, who hadn’t yet noticed that one of them was missing, continued on with their jovial conversations, leaving their blue-haired companion to deal with the aftermath.

seoul, sk 160729 9:34 p.m.

Hongjoong’s Log

Yeosang came back for the first time in two weeks, but he probably regretted it. I think we all did.

Jongho and Mingi had a huge fight earlier, and Jongho ended up hurting his leg again. Mingi left after that, and the rest of us took Jongho to the hospital. Wooyoung’s been trying to get hold of Mingi for twenty minutes now, but he won’t answer.

Maybe...everything will be back to normal next week...?

seoul, sk 160805 5:29 p.m.

Hongjoong’s Log

For a place filled with memories, it’s pretty lonely in here.

#ateez #kdiner #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong au

21 notes · View notes

keepyourpantsongohan · 4 years

Text

Voice of the Garden

The atmosphere felt like one of those ninja refuges you heard about in stories. (Konoha Hiden, Ch. 7) | Discord Spring Exchange for @ohayohimawari | AO3 |

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tenzō is a very welcome eclipse, Kakashi decides, without opening his eyes.

The sunlight behind his eyelids isn’t totally gone, but he knows if he were to peer out at the world, he would find one tall, smiling man blocking out the sun's rays, smelling of honey, butter and wheat.

“You made something,” Kakashi accuses blithely, opening one eye. “We said no work today.”

“We did,” Tenzō agrees, sitting down. Kakashi’s gaze follows him as he sets aside a covered tray. “But you set up a picnic, so I thought we were even.”

Kakashi shakes his head, poking Tenzō in the knee. “I laid all of this out yesterday.”

“That’s cheating,” says Tenzō, laughing.

“Wasn’t your favourite phrase, ‘You can never be too cautious?’ Maybe I’ve finally taken your advice and prepared ahead of time.”

“It’s ‘knock on a stone bridge before crossing it,’” Tenzō corrects.

“So, the same thing, but for old men.” Kakashi teases, eyes falling shut again.

He feels Tenzō’s fingers touch his face, running gently from underneath his brow bone to the top of his cheek. Kakashi doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s pressing against the light lines in his skin. “I don’t see any young men around here.”

“That’s not nice,” Kakashi says, feigning offence in his voice. The ruse doesn’t quite reach his face.

“You started it,” Tenzō points out without remorse. Still, the press of his lips to Kakashi’s temple is a pleasing balm. “Don’t you want to see what I made?”

“Bread,” Kakashi observes, but he looks anyways. He takes the opportunity to stretch out on his side, joints popping in a way that does make him feel a little like an old man. “You smell like a bakery,” he adds.

For the first time that day, Kakashi takes a lingering glance at Tenzō. By his appearance, the bread only finished baking a short while ago. His sleeves are pushed up to the elbow, the neck of his shirt is tugged backward where an apron would be tied, and while there is no flour on his hands, there is the smallest hint of it clinging to a few strands of his hair.

Besides that, Kakashi’s face isn’t alone in starting to show lines. Tenzō’s face has one or two creases on it himself. It amuses Kakashi to think they will be a matching set, making each other’s faces wrinkle more and more with each smile. He isn’t disappointed to see his partner doing just that.

Tenzō chuckles. “I suppose it was a fool’s errand to try to surprise you.”

“I am surprised,” Kakashi concedes, tapping his fingers on Tenzō’s thigh. “I didn’t know the oven worked. I’ve been using katon to grill our fish.”

The other man takes this admission in good humour. “I thought it had a strange aftertaste,” Tenzō quips. “The first thing they teach you about mokuton is not to eat food made with your own chakra.”

“When I asked you if you could fix the bed, you said the first thing they teach about mokuton is that you shouldn’t sleep on structures made of your own chakra,” Kakashi says, making a face at him.

“You’re mistaken,” says Tenzō, lips twitching. “That’s the second thing.”

Clucking his tongue, Kakashi asks, “How do you keep track of all of these rules?”

“I keep a list.” Tenzō answers. His focus turns to the basket Kakashi has laid out at the head of their blanket. “May I?”

Kakashi gestures for him to go ahead. He hadn’t been joking when he said he had prepared in advance. The lid is flipped open, revealing a welcoming array of fruit, savoury pastries, pickled vegetables and whatever else he was able to gather. The attentiveness of the task doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Some of this looks more elaborate than a usual picnic,” Tenzō remarks, nodding at a glass bottle, glinting gold.

The bottle is tugged out of the spot where it has been nestled. Although Kakashi’s had it with him for some time now, it feels heavier in his hand today. The amber elixir is liquid gold in the sunlight. Tenzō’s eyes follow its twinkle curiously.

“Honey wine,” Kakashi tells him, passing it over.

Tenzō’s expression shifts, examining the bottle carefully. “When did you find this? It’s rare, these days.”

“When we passed through Sora-ku last month,” Kakashi says.

Tenzō raises his eyebrows. “The Senju clan used to make this in the old days, you know. For special occasions.”

“I see you’ve been talking to Kurenai too.” Kakashi says. A slight warmth floods his face, and he changes tack. “It’s a beekeeper who makes it now. I met them in a bamboo grove.”

A bamboo grove filled with a genjutsu fog, he doesn’t add. Kakashi’s own surprise being kept is a thing of chance; both that he been fortunate enough to have known his own mind, and that the beekeeper seemed to have an affinity for Konoha shinobi.

"I didn’t think there was much by way of people in that place,” admits the other man. “Other than the ones who stay with Sasuke’s cat friends. And I’m not sure that family isn’t half cat themselves. Was this beekeeper a shinobi?”

“Yes. I didn’t press, but it seemed clear to me that they had left their village.”

A thoughtful nod follows this revelation, followed by a slowly spreading smile. “Leaving shinobi life to tend to bees,” Tenzō muses. “Now, there’s a thought.”

“Thinking of a career change?” Kakashi asks, nudging his leg against Tenzō’s.

There’s a brief scuffle between their lower limbs, with them tangled up in both each other and the blanket. It is only by luck that none of their food topples over. With Kakashi far closer to him than before, Tenzō replies, “As Rokudaime Hokage, wouldn’t it constitute treason for me to tell you about plans to abandon Konoha?”

“Maybe,” Kakashi agrees. “What kind of crime would it be if I decided to leave?”

“Dereliction of duty,” Tenzō decides. He says it with all the seriousness he can muster. “ANBU would follow in a matter of hours.”

Kakashi grins. He’d like to see any of the current ANBU recruits try to catch them. “We’d have to find somewhere very remote to live. One of Kiri’s islands?”

“That would make it hard for Gai to visit,” Tenzō points out, catching on to Kakashi’s game. “What about Kumo? It’s more than a stone’s throw from Konoha, but still attached to the mainland.”

Cheerfully, Kakashi says, “I’m sure Killer Bee would let us stay with him until we found our footing,” At Tenzō’s look of alarm, he beams even wider.

“Bees,” says Tenzō suddenly. “I wouldn’t be able to keep bees in Kumo. The climate is too hot for that. We’d have to go to Iwa.”

It is far too easy for Kakashi to imagine Tenzō in a full body suit, with bees swirling around him. As it is, the ones in Konoha seem inordinately fond of him. “From what I could tell, Iwagakure is where the beekeeper came from in the first place. So maybe they’re looking for a new one.”

“And what would you do?”

Kakashi lets himself ponder on it. A jest comes to mind first, but he holds himself back. For several strange and delightful seconds, he imagines himself truly having found a life outside Konoha, with welcome company and without expectation.

“Obito once asked me if I was planning to be a chef,” Kakashi says, an unexpected sincerity rising up. He reaches for Tenzō’s hand, finding distraction in the lines of his palm. “I could try that. We could grow some vegetables in our garden.”

Tenzō lets himself be explored. “I have always liked your cooking,” he replies gently. His tone turns playful. “How would we keep the people of Iwa from recognizing you? You’ve got quite the reputation.”

“I’ll wear a hat.”

A free hand reaches up to play with Kakashi’s hair. “Don’t you already have one of those?” Tenzō asks. “The public still knows you when you wear it.”

Kakashi hums, contemplating. “I’ll get a bigger hat.”

The logic passes whatever metric Tenzō has decided to use, and he murmurs an agreement. His hand stays splayed at the base of Kakashi’s neck, “What if I don’t recognize you without the hair?”

Winking, Kakashi says, “I’ll take it off when I get home.”

It seems as though Tenzō has something to say to that, but any banter is cut short by a growl of his stomach. He sighs. “That’s enough roleplay for now. I think it’s time to eat.”

“That’s a shame,” Kakashi says, fingers at Tenzo’s waist. “The missing nin thing is kind of working for me.”

Tenzō doesn’t blush about these kind of things anymore, but he still laughs, his head ducking a little closer to the grass. “It’s things like this that make me worry I will one day have to testify against you.”

“They can’t do that, if you’re married,” Kakashi says lightly.

“Is that what marriage would mean to you?” Tenzō teases, rolling onto his back. “Legal immunity?”

Kakashi plays at indignation. “You think so little of me. I would also be in it for the couple’s discounts.”

“My mistake,” Tenzō replies. He reaches for one of the apples Kakashi set in their picnic basket, rolling it between his hands instead of eating it. “Of course, it would be for legal and budgeting reasons. I should know better than to underestimate you after so many years.”

“You should really think better of your future spouse, Tenzō,” Kakashi says. The admonition has far too much sentimentality in it to land. “We might as well give the honey wine to Kurenai, if things are so rocky before the wedding.”

“So you do know what it’s for,” his companion notes. A pinkness spreads over his cheeks. “I wondered.”

“It’s important to become familiar with your village’s traditions.” Kakashi says, his throat much dryer than before.

“I thought we were going to be missing nin?” Despite his words, Tenzō’s heart is plain on his face.

In response, Kakashi’s heart is even louder in his ears. He steadies it by leaning his head on Tenzō’s shoulder. “We can decide that after the wedding,” he compromises.

“If you keep bringing up weddings, one day I’ll have to marry you,” Tenzō warns, humoured; heartfelt; happy. He feels the shoulder where his head rests shift, but it is only for Tenzō’s cheek to press against his hair.

“I’m free tomorrow,” Kakashi offers.

“The licensing offices won’t be open for two more days,” is the reply. It is almost automatic; it takes a few seconds for Tenzō to catch up to their conversation, and when he does, he stills. The apple falls from his grasp.

Kakashi takes the opportunity to say, “I could make next week work.”

For a moment, they separate to look at each other. And then they both laugh, and keep laughing, until Tenzō does the sensible thing and finds a way to silence them both.

Tenzō’s kiss knocks Kakashi into the ground in its enthusiasm. Kakashi’s answering movements are no more coordinated. He barely manages to take down his mask before his lips are covered again. Kakashi is no stranger to kissing Tenzō, but there is a novelty in this, kissing for this reason, intoxicated by their own contentment.

They are grasping and grinning like they are somewhere far more private than a clearing with a sparse covering of trees. This time, they definitely knock something over, but they are much too busy to figure out what it is.

The one thing that does have Kakashi reluctantly pulling away is when he senses a spike in his companion’s chakra, and feels the earth beneath him shift, grass and soil alike moving beneath his back.

When Kakashi opens his eyes, he sees their clearing is not so empty anymore. Their new company is a field full of sunflowers, and the surprised look on Tenzō’s face tells him it hadn’t been intentional.

“I’m going to take that as a maybe,” Kakashi tells him, warm and pleased.

#ohayohimawari #kakayama #tenzashi #kakashi hatake #yamato tenzo #naruto series #mine #fanfiction #long post #discord #shinobi spring exchange #ayesha talks anime #hima i hope u know i was OVERJOYED to have this prompt #thank u for wanting all of the same things in a fic as i do jghgk #happy spring!!

39 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

IDOL TIMES (1 part), a Classical Fantasy

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Classical Fantasy

IDOL TIMES

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1988 words

written 2003

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan activity, cosplay, stories, music, plays or skits or anything else is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

“The thieves of Istar are a bunch of lowlife cowards,” declared Rumol, as he snagged a beer from a passing server’s tray. The server noticed the theft, so he tossed a copper fluket onto the tray.

“That’s the kind of talk that gets folk from Kelin beat to a pulp in Istar,” replied Durson mildly from the next bench. “We’re as brave as any thieves that you will find.” He reached over and took a swig from Rumol’s beer. “Now, suppose that you clear up that claim that you made.”

“Simplicity itself,” retorted Rumol, retrieving his beer. “Look about you. You see thieves on hard times. The whole country is in a depression. Nothing to steal that’s worth the theft, you say. Nonsense! The temple of the Chained One stands ripe for the plucking! It’s a whole orchard of treasures and you are starving! I rest my case.”

“You tell us nothing new. Where does the cowardice come from?”

“Why,” said Rumol indignantly, “if you know about a prize like that, and you don’t take it, what other reason can there be?”

“You might try prudence. We are not as stupid as you think us. The Chained One’s temple is guarded day and night by vigilant priests with pike and spear. The treasures cannot be had - bribery has been tried and failed.”

“Perhaps you have not noticed that the temple is only locked, not guarded, on the night of the full moon. The priests retreat to tightly locked quarters. There is a large round hole in the nave roof. It is the perfect time to make a small expedition, using simple skills, for great reward.”

“You are out of what passes for your mind! The Chained One is unchained on that night! Other thieves have tried what you suggest. None has returned. The Chained One is always in a different position after the full moon.”

“It will be safe,” scornfully stated Rumol. “See this?” He held up a chip of stone, smooth on one side. “It came from the Chained One̓s reverend rear, this afternoon. Common stone, very well worked, it is true, but stone nonetheless. If folk disappeared, they must have left a priest hidden inside the temple. We need only take a crossbow and pick him off through the hole in the roof.”

“None of us will help you,” replied Durson. “You still haven’t explained how the Chained One moves.”

“Preserve me from fools!” exclaimed Rumol. “The figure is probably jointed. The priests sneak back through a tunnel and rearrange it.”

“And the live pony that they leave for a sacrifice?”

“You just heard me say that they have a tunnel. They lead it out and sell it, or save it to use again.”

“Well, you have a glib answer for everything. We have lived here all of our lives. We will not risk it.”

“Then you confirm my first statement - you are cowards. I will see to the treasures myself. Don’t expect any share from me,” declared Rumol. “The local guild can do without my dues if I can’t get help.”

Rumol stood, a bit unsteadily, and strode out of the tavern. A few blocks down the street, on the way to his lodgings, he ran into some “friends”. Guild enforcers. One took his arms from behind, while the other faced him. “Heard some talk about a little rat not payin’ his dues,” he said through his Guild mask. “This may help you to reconsider.” He hauled back his arm for a mighty blow to the stomach.

Rumol erupted. He let the man who was holding his arms support him while he lashed out with both feet. As he connected, he straightened his back and smashed backwards with his head. Both men went down, taking Rumol with them. The fall broke the grip of the man holding him; he got up quickly and, leaving them on the ground, ran to his room.

He paused only long enough to gather his few possessions and go out again, without, of course, paying the landlord. “I’ll avoid the guild’s enforcers by camping in the jungle outside the city for the next few days, until the full moon,” decided Rumol.

Two days of shooing serpents out of his sleeping roll and swatting bugs made him wonder if any job was worth this.

The night of the full moon found Rumol, dressed in black, alongside the Chained One’s temple. Sunset and moonrise were nearly the same time and sun was just gone. He had to hurry. He had attended the ceremonial Unchaining only two hours ago. What he had seen had confirmed most of his plans.

Checking his equipment, he made sure that he had his small crossbow, a grapnel, rope, jimmy and a variety of bags for packing loot quietly away. Swinging the grapnel, Rumol heaved it at the top of the wall.

If there were any gods (Rumol had his doubts) they were with him. The hook caught on the coping at the first cast. He was up the rope like a serpent up a vine. Pulling the rope up after him made him reasonably safe from the city watch. The moon began to rise in a nimbus of orange glow at the horizon as he crept in a leisurely way across the roof to the large round hole. Spaced about it were plinths, each supporting a representation of a major moon phase.

Testing these for security, Rumol looped his rope about one. He tied it by wrapping the rope twice about the shank of the grapnel and letting the rope fall between the hooks. Simple, secure, and to be unfastened in an instant, if need be.

With owl’s eyes Rumol searched the temple for hidden priests. Seeing none, he let down the rope, with the bags tied to it as a decoy. Still nothing. Taking no chances, he cocked his crossbow and carried it in the crook of his left arm, as he lowered himself to the floor. The pony whikkered hopefully.

Rumol strode over to where the pony was tied, for his one minor last-minute change in plan. He stroked the pony’s nose and gave it a carrot. That attended to, he set about his work.

All of the altar-ware had been put away in stout cabinets. A few minutes’ work with his jimmy laid the cabinets open to his gaze. There, before his eyes, was the wealth that those fools were afraid to come for. So far, the job had been absurdly simple. Carefully packing each gold or silver vessel into its own smaller sack, he then put them all into a large bag. He left the candlesticks. They were brass.

His next target was the vestry where the jeweled robes, miters, censors, and other priestly gear were kept. The several services that he had attended told him which door to attack. It had only a small spring lock which broke at once under his educated assault. The cabinets where the priestly goods were kept fared no better. Soon, all were looted and their contents resided in Rumol’s bags.

As he emerged into the nave, he saw that the moonlight was partway up the idol. Its two lower eyes glittered green. Emeralds of that size would never happen, but they might be peridots or beryl. Any faceted stones that large would be worth a king’s ransom.

Never one to leave a job half done, Rumol began to climb the idol. Placing feet on huge haunch, thence to paunch, forearm and then to shoulder, he finally straddled the mighty muzzle. The Moonlight clearly showed the two lower eyes to be set in a cement that matched the stone perfectly. It was modeled to resemble eyelids. In a few moments the moonlight would reach the third eye, too. Rumol set to work on the lower right eye.

Just then, the moonlight came to the third eye, and the muzzle tilted as the great head shifted. The eyes blinked. A deep soft voice rumbled, “Please get that thing out of my eye.”

Hanging on for his life, Rumol squeeked in fright, “Let me down! I didn’t know that you were alive! I’ll just get my things and leave you in peace.”

“You do that,” the deep voice said. Great paws set him gently on the floor.

Quickly, he gathered his loot and began to climb the rope. The huge paws seized him gently but irresistibly, and separated him from the rope. “You said that you would take your things and go. Those things are mine.”

Rumol almost squeaked in fright, “Don’t eat me! Please!”

“Eat you?” the idol answered in surprise, “I would never do that! Where ever did you get that idea?”

“Everybody says that you eat a pony - and any thieves - every moon.” Rumol shook his head, “I didn’t believe them.”

“Well, the pony is my dinner, that’s true,” the idol held him closer to its eyes which were now thoroughly lively, “but I don’t often get a guest to talk to. The priests never stay anymore. They know that their spells keep me from escaping this room as long as my body is stone, which is not likely to change anytime soon.” The idol paused in thought and a devious expression came and went from its massive visage.

“You went to a great deal of trouble and danger to get these things, didn’t you?”

Enfolded in the mighty paws of the idol, Rumol contented himself with a nod of agreement.

The Idol set him down in front of the altar. It carefully emptied out all of Rumol’s booty. “I see that you have even taken the lunar divination die of silver and ivory. If you will stay and talk, I will give you a chance to win some or all of the of these things. Let us play for what you have taken. Each of us will roll in turn. The one whose phase is closest to full wins. Waxing phase is higher than waning. The blank new moon always loses. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

The game progressed swiftly. Sometimes the advantage was with Rumol, sometimes with the idol. Eventually, chance alloted all the loot to the idol. Rumol stood dejected.

He brightened when the idol proposed, “One more pass? All or nothing?”

“Certainly. You’re the best winner that I have ever known. Anyone can be a good loser. Graceful winning is the test.” Taking the die, Rumol threw a waxing gibbous moon. The idol promptly made its throw. A full moon came up. The idol took Rumol gently and said, “You lose. As you have nothing else to give, look into my third eye.” Rumol did as he was bidden; he really had no choice.

Rumol felt a great disorientation and confusion; there was the impression of something dark going up, near him. His right eye hurt. He felt hungry and felt a stiffening all over. There was an intense urge to get up on the altar. As the moonlight faded, he got stiffer and the urge to get onto the altar got stronger, until he could not resist it any longer. Gazing longingly at the pony, he got up on the altar. With the last of the moonlight, consciousness waned on the thought that he was going to be very hungry by the next full moon.

The next morning the priests were surprised at what they found. A young acolyte exclaimed, “This is terrible! The Chained One has refused the pony! Look, there he stands. I pray you, lord priest, what does it mean?”

“Use your eyes, young man,” the priest replied sonorously. “See you not the bags, the jimmy, the broken cabinets? Another fool has tried to rob us.

“Now, while we priests replace the chains, you acolytes clean up the mess. Be sure that things are put away properly and then run get a carpenter to fix these cabinets.”

-THE END-

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Classical Fantasy

This completes Idol Times. If you enjoyed what you just read, please go to the Master Story Index for links to all of the stories that I have posted on Tumblr.

#IDOL TIMES #Classical Fantasy #Written by De Writer

8 notes · View notes

therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Give It All Away (Ryo Shishido)

Genre: Family, Friendship, Fluff ☁

Word Count: 4,709 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Shishido ☁

World: Prince of Tennis ☁

Author’s Note: Soo this may or may not be hella OOC for Atobe, but meh. Wrote it a while back and wanted to post it anyway c:

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“Did you hear? That bitch from Seigaku is dating Shishido-sama!”

“What? No way!”

“There’s no way Shishido-sama would date a whore like them!”

“Of course not! They probably started the rumor themself, just to get attention!”

Shishido and Choutarou walked through the halls of Hyotei, listening to the comments made by the fangirls of Hyotei’s tennis team. Each and every comment made the two boys’ blood boil as they shook their heads in disapproval. The rumor of Shishido dating the Y/N from Seigaku wasn’t true… exactly. Still, they had no right to talk about you like that. You were actually a good friend of the two boys and, most importantly, also the Hyotei king’s sibling.

Though, none of the fangirls knew that little tidbit. They didn’t know much of anything about the Hyotei tennis team, other than the fact that they were hot, rich boys who played a sport.

The two boys were currently heading down to the tennis courts where after school practice was being held. They were actually kind of afraid of Atobe’s reaction to the rumor and the comments the girls were making about his sibling. Even worse, Shishido was afraid that Atobe would find out that it was he who started that rumor, in an attempt to get his fangirls off of him.

He shuddered as he remembered the incident.

Two days earlier…

“Shishido-sama!” A brown-haired fangirl called out, latching onto his arm and hugging it tightly between her large breasts. “You’re not seeing anyone are you?”

“Of course he isn’t!” Another brown-haired girl appeared, latching onto his other arm and rubbing against it. “He will be dating me, though!”

“In your dreams!” A blonde girl appeared, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up so that her large chest was in his face. “Shi-sama is all mine!”

“No, he’s mine!” A purple-haired girl grabbed onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and snuggling her face up against his ear.

“Mine!” A pink-haired girl grabbed onto his face, trying to pull him into a kiss.

Shishido’s face was tinted a light pink as he protested and struggled to break free from the squealing girls. “Please let go!”

“No way!”

“You’re all ours!”

“Kiss me, Shishido-sama!”

“Marry me, Shi-sama!”

“Give me a child, Shishido-senpai!”

‘What in the hell is wrong with these girls?! In middle school and thinking of marriage and kids!?’ he thought, frantically trying to push them off. “I said, let me go!”

“We’ll only let you go if you give us a good reason!” One of the girls cooed in his ear and the others nodded in agreement.

He racked his brain, trying to think of a good reason to tell them. A thought came into his head which he knew he’d regret, but what choice did he have given the current situation? He’d rather regret this white lie later, rather than get taken over by these insane girls.

“Actually, I have a partner.” As soon as the words left his lips, all of the girls froze, their bodies tensing. He gulped as they moved away slowly.

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who,” he argued.

“It does!”

“If you don’t tell us, we won’t believe you!”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and spoke the only name he could think of at the time. “Y/N,” He knew you were going to murder him for this, but he’d much rather be murdered by you than be stuck with those crazies.

“…what!?” All the girls chorused.

“That whore!?”

“Aren’t they from Seigaku? How could you!”

He growled, pushing past the girls. How could they even say things like that? They didn’t even know you! They’ve never even met you, for kami’s sake.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Shishido and Choutarou reached the tennis courts to find everything running as normal as ever. The two boys exchanged glances before looking over at Atobe who sat off to the side under an umbrella, drinking some orange liquid out of his sparkling glass. He didn’t look angry or upset at all. In fact, he looked somewhat content.

Had he really not heard the rumors? Or did he not care about the things they said about his sibling? Sure, he often acted like he could care less about you, but they all knew deep down he loved and cared deeply for you. Was this all just an act?

The two boys joined practice, having a doubles match against Hiyoshi and Gakuto. Everything ran smoothly to the end. Everyone was sweating as they put away their tennis equipment and prepared to head home. The only ones left on the court were the regulars since they stayed later than everyone else.

A group of fangirls were waiting just outside the courts and rushed in as soon as they saw that practice was over.

��Shishido-sama!” They whined, running up to the brunette.

Shishido growled lowly as the girls approached him.

“You have to break up with that bitch!”

“They’re not good enough for you!”

“They’re nothing but a whore, Shishido-sama!”

“What’s this about?” Atobe asked as he walked over to the group, running a hand through his purple hair.

Shishido gulped, knowing how pissed off Atobe could get if he found out who they were talking about. Choutarou must have been thinking the same thing since he grabbed onto Shishido’s arm, looking very nervous.

“Atobe-sama!” one of the girls cried, moving to stand in front of him, “You have to talk sense into Shishido-sama!”

“He’s dating a whore from Seigaku!” Another girl added.

“From Seigaku?” Yuushi asked. Pretty much the entire team had gathered around to see what the girls were making such a fuss about.

The girl nodded, “The whore isn’t good enough for Shi-sama!”

“Who is it?” Atobe asked, curiously.

“Some bitch named Y/N,” one of the girls responded with venom laced words, flipping her blonde hair.

Atobe’s face hardened instantly as a tension filled the air. No one from the Hyotei team dared to move. Hell, they weren’t even breathing! Atobe took a deep breath and closed his eyes, walking away from the group and leaving the courts.

“Atobe-sama!” One of the girls called, moving to stand in front of him and blocking his path. “You have to do something about the whore!”

“Move out of my way you dumb bitch!” Atobe snapped, pushing past the girl and leaving the school. He was pissed and the whole team knew it.

Yuushi and Gakuto managed to make the girls leave and everyone turned their eyes to Shishido who squirmed lightly under their intense gaze.

“I think you should start explaining,” Yuushi said, pushing his glasses up.

Shishido sighed deeply, “I was surrounded by fangirls. They were literally all over me.”

“Fangirls are always all over us.” Gakuto pointed out with a scoff.

“Yeah, but these girls were asking me to bear their child and marry them!” He responded, causing all of the guys backed up, horrified at the thought. “I said the first thing that came to mind, that I had a partner. They wouldn’t believe me unless I told them who it was. Y/N was the first person to pop into my head so I said their name. I knew Y/N would probably kill me, but… it seemed like the better option.”

“It’s hard to say which Atobe is pissed off about more,” Yuushi sighed. “It could be the fact that the ‘whore’ they were referring to was his sibling or perhaps the fact that he believes they’re dating you.”

“It’s definitely both,” Hiyoshi added.

“It seems more likely that way,” Yuushi grabbed his things. “I’ll have a talk with Atobe. Shishido, Choutarou. Find Y/N and explain everything. They should be ready for the onslaught of fangirls at the very least.”

The two boys nodded, grabbing their things and heading off toward Seishun Gakuen while Yuushi left for the Atobe manor in hopes of calming down the angry king. The others decided it’d be best to head home and wait for the phone call from one of the three boys.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“Y/N!” Eiji grinned, jumping onto your back and hugging you tightly, “Can I come with you?”

You chuckled, grabbing onto his legs so he didn’t fall. “Sure, Eiji.”

You, Fuji, Momo, Ryoma, and, now, Eiji were heading down to the burger joint to get some food after practice concluded.

“Man, I’m so starved!” Momo whined from the front of the group as he rubbed his stomach.

You scoffed from beside Fuji, “You just ate thirty minutes ago.”

“So? I’m a growing boy!”

“Nice excuse, hippo.”

“What’d you call me!?” he cried out, turning around and getting into your face.

“You heard me! You’re as fat as a hippo, with that big stomach of yours!” you cried back, fighting against your smirk. You loved getting under his skin.

Ryoma sighed in annoyance as he entered the building. Fuji just grinned following behind him. Eiji was chuckling as he jumped down from your back and followed them. The two of you blinked, looked around, and made a dash for the door, trying to squeeze in together. Ryoma had gotten a booth, while Fuji and Eiji ordered the food – they were paying too, apparently, not that you were complaining!

Momo sat next to Ryoma and you sat across from them. When the two boys came back with trays piled with food, Fuji sat next to you while Eiji was next to Momo.

“Hey, Y/N?” Fuji inquired, “My sister wanted to know if you were staying with us again tonight.”

You nodded, taking a sip of the large soda he got for the two of you to share, “Of course. You don’t expect me to go home, do you?”

He chuckled, “I suppose not.”

Shusuke Fuji was your all-time best friend, your other half. He literally knew everything about you and, with that being said, he also knew how much you hated going home. He knew that you came from a rather rich family, but also that you’ve never been into that kind of life. So, you started doing odd jobs to make your own money instead of expecting handouts from your parents like your brother does.

Now, you may be wondering what these odd jobs are, right? Well, things like getting a cat out of a tree, helping to deliver messages to people, and bounty hunting. Yes, bounty hunting is dangerous but it’s also very thrilling, and it pays quite a bit, too, depending on what kind of criminal you’re going after.

You also do private jobs.

For example, when parents want their runaway kids found, they’ll hire you to find them and bring them back. It’s tiring and you can usually only work at night, but it’s worth it in the end. At least it is in your opinion.

Shusuke and his sister sat down with you one night and you explained everything to her before asking if you could stay with them. Though at this point in time, it goes farther than just staying – you practically live there now. His sister, mother, and little brother say that they look at you like family and you feel the same about them.

“Do we have practice tomorrow, Fuji-senpai?” Momo asked through a mouthful of food.

“Try swallowing first, baka!” you told him, throwing a fry at his forehead.

He scowled, rubbing the spot you had hit, smudging a bit of grease across his skin.

“I don’t believe so. Then again, I remember Oishi saying something about us all getting together to do something.” Fuji answered.

All of you groaned, remembering the last time you had all gotten together.

“What’s next?” Momo groaned.

“Well, we’ve been bowling, we played billiards, and we had a volleyball tournament.” Eiji listed, counting on his fingers as he named each one.

“What comes next?” Ryoma asked.

“Basketball?” you suggested.

“Soccer?” Momo wondered.

“American football?” Ryoma asked.

“Ping pong?” Eiji added.

“Badminton?”

“Golf?”

“Baseball?”

“Boxing?”

“Poker?”

“Rich man poor man?”

“Guys!” Fuji laughed, “You can name all the ones you want. Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“He’s right,” Ryoma muttered.

“He’s always right.” you scoffed.

An, from Fudomine, appeared at the end of the table with Kamio at her side. She looked serious and a bit nervous. “Can we talk with you, Y/N? Privately.”

You raised an eyebrow in question before sliding out of the booth. As soon as you were next to them, Kamio grabbed your arm and pulled you outside where Tetsu and Shinji were waiting.

“What’s… going on, guys?” you inquired, looking between the four Fudomine students.

“Is it true?” An questioned.

“Is what true?”

“You’re dating Shishido?” Tetsu clarified. “From Hyotei?”

“Shishido?” your brow shot up in surprise, “No. I’m not dating anyone.”

The three boys exchanged glances before staring at An.

“There’s a rumor going around that you’re dating him.” An explained.

“And the Hyotei girls have been furious about it. They’re all talking about ways to get back at you.” Tetsu sighed.

“Fangirls can be very annoying,” Shinji mumbled, quietly. “Most girls are, but fangirls are much worse. They’re louder, as well.”

The four of us tuned out the mumbling boy as he fell into his own world.

Kamio was about to speak when someone called your name. Looking over, you found Shishido and Choutarou coming your way, both looking a bit nervous. Kamio glared at them, while An and Tetsu looked doubtful. Shinji didn’t even notice.

“Can we talk?” Shishido asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and refusing to meet your eyes.

“It’s important,” Choutarou added, resting his hand on your shoulder lightly and pushing you away from the group. You walked between the two boys in silence until stopping at a cafe, taking a seat at one of the small round tables outside.

“Have you, uh, heard any rumors lately?” Choutarou asked, his voice laced with nervousness.

“Actually, Kamio and the others were just telling me an interesting one where I’m dating Ryo,” you answered, looking at the brunette who still refused to meet your gaze.

Choutarou frowned, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I’m really sorry,” Shishido muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was the first thing that came to my mind,”

“I figured,” You chuckled, making them both look at you in confusion. “Shishido wouldn’t do something like that unless there was a reason behind it. If I had to guess, I’d say he used that as a way of escaping his fangirls.”

“Y-Yeah.” Ryo blinked dumbly, “So~… you’re not mad?”

“Not really. The fan girls’ll probably work my nerves, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Shishido jumped up and grabbed your wrist, pulling you up and into a tight hug. “Thank you, Y/N!”

You chuckled, hugging him back before pulling away to flick his forehead, “That’s what friends are for.”

“Umm, there’s still a problem,” Choutarou sent him a look, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Another problem?”

“Err, well…” Shishido rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “About Atobe…”

“See, a group of fangirls caught us after practice.” Choutarou started, “They were begging Atobe to talk sense into Shishido-san because he was dating a… someone from Seigaku. Atobe asked who it was and they said your name.”

“He got pretty pissed off.” Shishido muttered, “We’re not sure if he’s pissed about you dating me or pissed about the things they called you.”

“Who cares~” you scoffed, causing both boys to look at you in surprise. “He hasn’t cared before, so why start now?”

Both boys exchanged glances.

“You really should make up with him.” Choutarou sighed deeply.

“Why should I?” you stuffed your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “What has he ever done for me?”

“If that’s the case, then why did he get so mad?” Choutarou questioned.

“Simple answer, Chou. He didn’t want anyone to know I’m his sibling.”

The two looked at you in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

“Yeah, I bet he didn’t tell you that, huh. Yuushi found out by accident. Naturally, it’d spread to the rest of you. He didn’t want anyone to know because I’m the quote-unquote disgrace of the family. I’m the one always causing trouble and disappointing my parents because I don’t act rich like my blood dictates. Just because I’m not an arrogant snob like Keigo, I’m not good enough to be in the family.”

“Did… Did he really..?” Choutarou was having trouble forming words.

You nodded, “He said I wasn’t worthy of being the ‘great-Atobe-sama’s-sibling’.”

Shishido growled, his fists clenching at his side. “What kind of brother says that shit?”

“Keigo Atobe, apparently.” you muttered in response, “I don’t really care though. I never acknowledged him as my brother, either. No one knows except Fuji and Tez.”

“Tez?” Both boys questioned.

You laughed, “Tezuka. He hates me calling him that, but it’s cute. He’s Seigaku’s own Pez dispenser!”

Choutarou covered his mouth when he started to giggle.

“Why hasn’t he killed you yet?” Shishido murmured, eyeing you suspiciously.

“He’s tried, with that glare of his. I usually just hide behind Fuji.”

“Tch,”

Grinning, you threw an arm around his shoulder. “I’m just good like that,”

Choutarou was still laughing and, with a little bit of difficulty, you threw your other arm around his shoulder, “Damn you for being so tall!”

“It’s your fault for being so short!” he teased.

You gasped in mock horror, leaning closer to Shishido as you pointed your finger at the brunette, “I’m the same height as Shi!”

“He’s short, too!” Choutarou laughed harder when both of you glared at him.

“I’m not short! You’re just too tall!” Shishido argued, “And don’t call me Shi!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you teased him with a grin, kissing his cheek.

He scoffed and looked away, but not before you and Choutarou noticed the small tinge of pink on his cheeks. You exchanged a look with the grey-haired boy but said nothing.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Keigo glared at the ceiling as he lay on the bed. It had been a long while since he had been this pissed off, but, he just couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even sure why he was so angry.

‘I shouldn’t care this much about them. Y/N left this family two years ago!’ He groaned, sitting up and placing his face in his hands. “Then why do I care so much about this?”

“Because you love them,”

Looking up, he saw Yuushi standing in the doorway.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Keigo ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh of frustration, “As far as I’m concerned, they’re no longer a part of this family!”

“Who are you trying to convince Atobe?” he inquired, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. “Everyone else? Or yourself?”

It took a moment, but the words sunk in. Was he really just trying to fool himself into thinking that he didn’t care about Y/N? Was he really trying to convince himself that he hated his sibling?

“Would you like to know the truth of the matter?” Yuushi asked, taking a seat at his desk and readjusting his glasses.

“The truth?”

Yuushi nodded as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs, “I asked Shishido to explain after you left. Apparently, he was cornered by screaming fangirls and -”

“So what,” he interrupted with a growl, “We’re always surrounded by screaming fangirls.”

“Yes, well. Shishido was surrounded by girls who wanted to marry him, have his child, and possibly lock him in their basement. There were quite a few, from my understanding.” Yuushi paused to see if Atobe would say anything.

Getting no response, he continued.

“He said the first thing to come to mind; he had a partner. They refused to believe him unless he told them who it was. Y/N was the first person he thought of which, really, is no surprise. He knew they’d go along with it because they’re friends. He also knew that they’d probably kill him in the long run but, he said that he’d rather be killed by a friend rather than by some crazed girls.”

Atobe made a grunting noise, covering his face again.

“Why did you get so pissed off, Atobe?” Yuushi implored, “Because those girls were calling Y/N all of those things? Because you thought they were dating Shishido? Or because they didn’t tell you that they were dating Shishido?”

What Yuushi said got him thinking. Yes, he was definitely upset because they were saying such things about you, even though they knew nothing about you. But could it really be something else with it? Did he really reject the idea of the two of you being together? Or was it just the thought that you didn’t bother to tell him that irked him so much?

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh of frustration.

“Maybe you should talk to them, Atobe,” Yuushi suggested.

“Like they’d want to do that,” he scoffed. “I’ve pushed her into hating me.”

Yuushi stood up and opened the door, leaving him with a small bit of advice before closing the door behind him. “It’s never too late.”

His words echoed in Keigo’s mind throughout the night. He tossed and turned, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get to sleep that night.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“Is it true? Huh, huh? Is it, is it?”

You laughed at the hyper-active redhead as he bounced up and down beside you, a cat-like grin etched across his face. You were currently at after school tennis practice with the rest of Seigaku. Most weren’t practicing though, far too busy asking you about yesterday and if you were really dating Shishido.

“Yes, it’s true. In a sense, anyway.”

Fuji, who was standing at your side, just smiled knowingly. Of course, he had managed to figure out that it wasn’t a real relationship, but he also seemed to be under the impression that you have deep feelings for Ryo that not even you have come to realize, seeing as you agreed to it without hesitation. You keep telling him he’s imagining things, but you know how it is trying to talk Fuji out of something. He’s far too stubborn – not like you have room to talk about being stubborn.

“Why didn’t you tell us!?” Eiji whined, grabbing onto your arm and shaking it.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” you told him, patting his back lightly. Is it bad that you can come up with lies right off the bat, without much thought? Probably, but in your defense, Fuji can do the same.

“You should have known we’d be fine with it!” Momo said, slapping you on the back, harder than he had to.

Ryoma nodded, “As long as he doesn’t do anything stupid, Y/N-senpai, we have no problem with Shishido.”

Someone cleared their throat behind you and the group turned around to see Tezuka standing there, arms folded, with an annoyed look on his face. “Is there a good reason why none of you are practicing?”

You all tried to utter out some excuse before taking off before he could punish you all.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

When practice ended, you grabbed your bag and me and left the school with Fuji close behind. You didn’t expect to see Shishido and Choutarou standing in front of the school waiting for you, but it was a pleasant surprise.

“What’re you guys doing here?” You wondered, looking between the two boys.

“We didn’t have practice today, so we figured we’d come and hang out with you,” Choutarou answered with a smile.

“No practice?” Fuji asked, “I thought Hyotei had practice every day after school.”

“It was canceled,” Choutarou told him as the four of you began walking down the street.

“Atobe didn’t show up today, either,” Shishido muttered from beside you, his shoulder bumping yours. “I think he’s still mad.”

“He’ll get over it,” you grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers with his own.

“You’re right,” he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“You know, the two of you act like a real couple.” Fuji pointed out as he nudged you lightly in the ribs.

You shot him a glare, which only caused him to grin wider.

“Now that you mention it, you’re right.” Choutarou hummed, cupping his chin. “They do act like a real couple.”

You glanced at Shishido who was looking away, a small hint of pink visible on his cheeks.

Choutarou chuckled, “No shame, guys.”

You felt Shishido’s grip tighten on your hand as he stopped walking, making you come to a stop as well. “You two go on ahead. I want to talk to Y/N for a minute.”

The two boys exchanged glances before smiling and taking off, knowing looks on their faces. Once they turned the corner and were out of sight, Shishido tugged on your hand to make you turn around to look at him.

“Something wrong?” you asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking…” he sounded kind of nervous and tense.

“That’s never good.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled as he playfully glared at you, “Not funny.”

“Really? Because I found it to be quite funny~”

“Anyway, I was hoping I could ask you something.” he turned serious again as he looked into your eyes.

It made you nervous having him look at you like that. “What is it, Shi?”

“I want to try a real relationship with you,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“A… real relationship?” you asked, shocked at what he was asking.

He nodded, stepping closer. “I guess I… I’ve always had feelings for you since I first met you. And… pretending to be your boyfriend just made them grow. I want to try out a real relationship. I want to know if it could work between me and you.”

You smiled, grabbing his tie and pulling him into a soft kiss. He was shocked at first and it took him a few minutes to respond. When he got over his shock, he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss before slowly pulling away.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Ryo,” you smiled.

He grinned, pecking your lips before pulling you into a tight bear hug.

Clapping echoed throughout the empty street. When you turned around in surprise, there was Atobe with a small smile grazing his lips.

“Atobe!” Shishido exclaimed in surprise, his body tensing up.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to my sibling for a moment,” Atobe said, softly.

Shishido glanced at you, unsure, and you nodded your head. He hesitated for a few seconds before kissing your cheek before walking away.

You stared at the purple-haired boy suspiciously as he stepped closer.

“I wanted to apologize. I haven’t exactly been the best brother.” His voice was low, his eyes sincere. “I also wanted to say that I won’t interfere with your relationship. Shishido’s a good guy and I know he’ll take care of you.”

“Keigo,” you said softly, not believing that the mighty king of Hyotei was actually apologizing for something. It was a truly rare occasion.

He smiled, holding his arms out to you. You returned his smile, walking up and wrapping your arms around his waist. It had been so long since you last smelled his cologne or felt the warmth of your brother.

“What changed your mind?” you spoke softly, scared that if you spoke too loud, it would break whatever illusion you were under.

“A good friend of mine told me that it was never too late. That’s all I needed, I suppose.” He answered, slowly pulling away. “Now, go and be with your boyfriend.”

“Thank you, Keigo.” You gave him one last smile before walking off. When you turned the corner, however, there stood Shishido, Choutarou, and Fuji – looking sheepish, concerned, and smug respectively.

“Should have known,” you chuckled as Shishido wrapped his arms around you.

“They couldn’t resist,” he murmured before pulling you into another kiss.

A chorus of awws came from the two boys as they grinned in satisfaction, giving each other a high five. Both of them had been right, after all, not that you would ever admit that to them.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

If you enjoy my writing, please considering tipping me on Kofi or Cashapp. Every little bit helps and means a lot, thank you so much ^~^)/ If you can’t afford to do so, that’s okay, too, thanks for reading!

5 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 53

Happy Tuesday, everyone! I hope you enjoy today’s chapter. Quick interlude to learn more about Noah. It’s been a while since I did one of these, and I felt it was time.

I want to thank each and every one of you who likes and/or reblogs this story. You really keep me going.

“Noah, are you…. Shorter?” I asked as I walked through the corridors with our host later that week. I noticed that their small arm rested comfortably on my shoulder now, rather than needing to stoop as they had in the past.

They hummed in confirmation. “It is quite normal for my species, Wisdom. Heavier gravities compress my bodies.”

“Does it hurt?”

Noah approximated a chuckle. “No, but I am pleased you ask. I am what Terrans refer to as invertebrate, so there is no discomfort. I just – smoosh? Is that the word Tyche uses?”

I grinned widely. “Probably. We like that word. Tyche and I, I mean, not Terrans in general. I’m not sure there. I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”

“You and your sibling worry significantly more than our database prepared us for.” I could have sworn they just mimicked a snort. “Skeletal structures vary wildly in the galactic community, you will find out. There is no true norm.”

“It was just surprising.” A thought occurred to me. “What about your small arms? They have an exoskeleton, don’t they?” I had noticed that the appendages in question at least moved like they had bones, although the joints played by rules that made me nauseous if I watched for too long.

“Negative. They are simply more rigid.” This was demonstrated when Noah used their impressive dexterity to use two ‘fingers’ on the small hand closest to me to bend a third ‘finger’. Sure enough, it bent – in between the areas I assumed were joints.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I turned my head and tried to forced down the reaction my stomach had to what my brain screamed was a bone being broken.

“It isn’t a finger,” they reminded me gently. “There is no bone in it, despite your brain telling you there is.”

I had to stop a moment to catch my breath, head swimming. Carefully, I made my way to the closest bulkhead and leaned against it before sliding to the ground. “I’m trying, Noah. I really am. It’s just… everything in me tells me you just deliberately broke your finger, to prove a point. I feel like – it’s like I’m motion sick, if that makes sense.”

“I was unaware that your equilibrium was affected by my actions. I apologize.”

“It’s… it’s not that. It’s the conflict in my brain. Logically, I know you just told me you have no bones, and therefore it’s impossible to break what you don’t have. But, I guess subconsciously, I’m still having the reaction to a nonexistent injury.”

They made a gesture of agreement, their version of a nod. “Our studies show that Terran pack-bonding relies heavily on subconscious identification of similarities between yourself and those around you. You think of my body structure in Terran terms – legs, feet, arms, hands, and fingers. Because any life on your planet with such appendages will likely have skeletal structure, your subconscious likely extrapolates that my body, naturally, will have bones as well.”

“That tracks, yeah.” I nodded, eyes closed.

“This is easily remedied,” they hummed reassuringly. “Vomu.”

I cracked an eye and glanced up in confusion. “Say what?”

Noah wiggled his small hand at me. “This is not a hand. It’s one of my vomu.”

“That’s not some weird, freaky alien sex organ, is it?” I asked warily. I really was going to vomit if I found out that Noah had been basically rubbing its penis on my shoulder.

The increased gravity wasn’t making me cranky, at all. Nope.

“That’s disgusting, Wisdom,” they chided, both at my words and my thoughts. “Vomu. It translates to ‘fine’ or ‘delicate’ in your language. It is the term for the two high-dexterity appendages on a Hujylsogox.”

“Vomu,” I repeated, focusing on the hand – no, appendage – in question. “Not a hand, a vomu. A vomu.”

“Correct. These are called liw.” Noah gestured with the larger upper appendages. “Liw. The closest translation in any Terran language is simply ‘limb’, but ‘tentacle’ would be more accurate.”

I couldn’t help giggling at that. “You have tentacles…”

“I have liw,” they corrected.

“Fiiiine, you have liw. And vomu.” I was trying to reinforce what Noah was telling me, and focusing on my impromptu anatomy lesson was helping settle my stomach.

“And wuug,” it hummed cheerfully as it lifted a massive foot. “No, Wisdom. Not a foot. It is a wuug.”

“I don’t know how well I’m going to do with that one,” I confessed. “Terrans tend to call any appendage that anything uses to propel itself on land a ‘foot’, regardless of the existence of bones. Add to that the fact that we already have the word ‘wug’ in our vocabulary.” I focused on thinking about wugs so they could get the idea. “But I promise to try with your… wuugs.” I grimaced, feeling like I was baby-talking a behemoth alien.

“Just wuug will suffice. There is no plural form as you would think of it. Also, there is no definition between what you would think of as an arm, a hand, and a finger. From where it extends from the torso, to the very end, it is either vomu, liw, or wuug.”

“Huh. Really?”

“Sincerely, yes, Wisdom.”

“So, if I were to refer to specific part of your liw, for instance, say the part you use to grab things, as opposed to the entire length of it, what would I say?”

“That is simply the end of my liw. Nothing else.”

Now my brain was whirring, but for an entirely different reason. Noah helped me stand, and I proceeded to start taking notes on my datapad. “I can’t believe this isn’t in our database after this long. Has no one asked about any of this?”

They made a gesture with one… liw… that meant ‘somewhat’. “It is in the Galactic database I have made available to all of your people, but those who have been tasked with studying it have not transferred much information to the more public database that the Terrans more commonly use.”

“We really need to do something about that,” I muttered. Mandatory education courses were currently vocation-focused, and we were clearly remiss in having wider education put together. “Noah, if we put together education modules on the wider Galactic community that we have apparently joined, would you be able to train facilitators to deliver the information?”

“Wisdom, there are already several trained facilitators within your contingent.” Were they whining?

“None of us know anything about the community we are joining,” I admitted. “And self-educating breeds bad habits and misinformation. If – no when we do this, we need to do it correctly, from the outset.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #science fiction #aliens #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #apocalypse #original fiction #earth is space australia

88 notes · View notes

fxckbiscuit · 5 years

Text

Day 9: Ichi-go Ichi-e | The City

“So is that an agreement? Let’s both die in the morning?”

SasuHina | Rating: T | @sasuhinamonth

Ichi-go Ichi-e (一期一会): a Japanese proverb embodying the philosophy that every second in an encounter should be highly treasured, for it will never occur again; “one time, one meeting”

2:03 PM

“If I don’t ask you this, it will haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.” “What?” He looks at her nervously, frozen from where he sat, phrasing and rephrasing the words in his mind he wanted to say but just couldn’t. The train was moving slowly enough to make everything outside a wondrous streak. Intrigued and a little nervous too, Hinata’s eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement at what he’s struggling with. They were seated across each other for the two-hour ride, aimlessly dissecting whatever idea stumbled upon their vagabond minds. Now the train finally slowed to a stop. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the windows, lighting up the lounge car. He gets off on this station, she remembered him saying earlier. “What?” she questioned again. The burden was on him. She leaned back on her seat in anticipation. The doors to the train opened. People were boarding and unboarding. A warm bright glow hung in the air. Her lips curved into a smile. He had to say what was needed to be said. “I want to keep talking with you, if that’s okay,” he admitted as his eyes scanned hers in search for an answer. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. Me too. But don’t you have a plane to catch?” Sasuke continued, “I have a little time to kill so how about this. Okay. Yeah, we just met but…Fuck. You want to get off the train with me? Maybe go see the city?” The thought was a siren luring her to uncharted seas. She leaned over the table, half-smiling at the idea, her mind not entirely made up yet. “But…what would we do?”

4:55 PM

“We never talked much, but it was alright,” he explained, picking up where he left off. “Before my brother died, he liked to look at the night sky with me, which was deeper than any conversation, don’t you think? Anyone can talk to you. Anyone can look at you. But isn’t it quite extraordinary to have someone else seeing the exact same world you see?” Hinata nodded in understanding, unsure of what to say. There were cobbled streets and hundreds of joints. She caught a glimpse of a lavish, massive fountain that hardly seemed real—built into a palatial building, adorned with sculptures of godlike humans. He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, now I told you my story. Might as well tell me yours.” “Strange how we avoided this topic for this long.” “I know. And now you owe it. You have to tell me.” “But I don’t have one.” “That’s bullshit. Everyone has stories” “I guess, but it’s not good as yours. You got arrested. Arrested,” she argued, making sure to put emphasis on the word. He raised a brow at her dismissively. She gave in. “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m married.” Sasuke almost tripped over. “You’re what?” She looked at him for a moment, sizing him up. She watched different emotions flicker through his eyes. “I said I’m married,” she flashed a smile of mischief. “…To boredom and distaste.” Hinata could tell he dived headfirst into a state of relief. He raised a middle finger to her. “Oh, touchy,” she shook her head, cracking a laugh. “Anyway, anything relatively interesting that ever happened to me was because of accidents. Without those happy, little accidents, I’d be barely a person.” A twenty-foot angel statue greeted them as they turned a corner. Up ahead they could already see the veins of the city, alive with the hustle of people. “We’ve known each other for a little while now, and we’re stuck together so…here’s a little game. Uh, it’s all just questions really. I ask you a question, you ask me a question. Simple. Ready?” “Yeah. Wait, we can ask any possible question right?” “Of course. You go first.” “Can you describe your first sexual feelings toward someone?” Hinata asked with a laugh. He shot her an amused look. “Let me think…here, my first sexual feelings were consummated by an obsessive hookup with a magazine. Ever heard of ‘Playboy’?” “Yes.” Her shoulders were still shaking with laughter when Sasuke dropped the next question. “Right, what are the things that infuriate you?” The sky was bright with yellows and oranges and pinks as they walked along the boardwalk near an amusement park buzzing with the noise of thousands. He received a long, fuming sigh as a reply. “Boy, almost everything infuriates the shit out of me.” “Yeah? Name some.” His eyes hovered over her short figure, glinting with mischief as he noted that his demand riled her up into a little ball of anger. As they walked around without definite aim, their conversation hummed with the city’s mid afternoon rush. “I fucking hate men who tell girls what to do, like to smile or something. Hell, you’re just minding your own on a street, then suddenly a man tells you what the fuck to do as if you owe him something. I hate…” Hinata took a deep breath and gripped the straps of her backpack, “I hate how people are dying fighting or caught up in a war conjured by people who don’t give two shits about anything. And it sucks that we don’t know what to do for them. I hate mosquitoes, I hate people with myopic views, I hate plane rides. Oh I hate those.” By the second, she grew angrier while he got amused. Looking up at him, her face twisted in disgust as his smirk morphed into half a grin. Not a second later, they both blew up in a fit of laughter. As they were calming down, she thought of a question for her new friend. “Okay, my turn now right? What’s a…a problem for you?” Sasuke looked at her and noted with deep concern that he found her endlessly fascinating. The thought frightened him. “You. You’re a problem.”

6:38 PM

“How long ‘til you leave here for the airport?” “About six in the morning? Six-thirty at the latest.” A breeze picked up, the tall grass on the little cemetery tilting away from it. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders to stay warm. The memorial park was still within the metropolis, the whispers of the city a constant sound. A rabbit ran past them on the wide staircase, descending to the array of old headstones ahead. “I came to this exact place once as a kid,” Sasuke said, wandering around, eyeing the almost identical angel heads. “Yep. I was with my mom. The groundkeeper told us most of the bodies buried here washed up from the riverbank,” he gestured to the patch of woods beside the grounds with Hinata following his gaze. “Why did so many bodies wash up on the banks?” “From boat accidents I think, and mostly suicides.” “This idea of nameless, unknown people lost in the world, I always liked that. If none of the people you’ve ever known knew you were dead, they could only imagine what happened, give you a story weighing on both ends of a spectrum—the best and the worst…” She tucked astray strands of hair behind her ears. He stopped by one grave. “It’s similar to not being dead at all, no?” “I remember this one. See, she’s twelve when she died, and I was that age too when I came here. Now I’m a decade older and…” “She’s still twelve. Twelve forever.” Hinata finished his sentence. She fished out a pack from her bag, lighting up two sticks, and handed one over to Sasuke. It was eerie, he thought, how she could tell he wanted a cigarette. But awful notions clouded his head, the lifeless twelve-year old left a bigger crater in him than he led on. The sadness of the setting sun seemed to have gotten to him. He exhaled. Everything seemed to be tinted with melancholy. He turned to her. Just like that. His brain running a million miles an hour was halted in half a second. He took in the sight of her. He wanted so badly to memorize every detail. How old was she? What was her favorite book? Did she prefer coffee or tea? How many sticks did she light a day? What did she think of Tarantino movies? Maybe she liked Scorsese more? Has she ever been in love before? What made her get out of bed in the mornings? While Hinata was finishing up, Sasuke tried to ransack his mind for the right words to say. Nothing came up. “Let’s get out of here.”

8:29 PM

“From up here, you ought to think the city is alive—the streets are the veins, the people are the cells…It’s all a lovely, breathing chaos, don’t you think?” Her eyes bored into the half-empty second bottle as she mused. They were sitting on the edge of the bookstore’s roof, four stories above the ground. Sasuke thought they were so high up they were practically part of the night sky. “Yeah, look…stars up above, stars down below. It’s tough to decipher where the other starts and where the other ends.” A beat closed in before he continued. “Pass me the wine?” Hinata ignored him. She looked at the city beneath. Her entire world tilted. She closed her eyes, laughed at the way everything spiraled. “Very gracious of you to call this shit wine,” she cracked him a smile. “It tastes like an open grave. We’re gonna be sick if we keep downing that piss. So let’s play. Best day, worst day.” “Never heard of that one,” Sasuke responded, lighting the cigarette between her lips. “’Cause I made it up, just now.” She said with a crooked grin. After drawing her legs up, she leaned forward and rested her arm on top of her knees, her pale skin the most vivid memory of his night. “How do we play?” With her lips slightly parted and a far-off look in her eyes, it occurred to him that she might be a little plastered already. “Easy. We tell the story of our best day. Better narrator wins. Loser drinks. We tell the story of our worst day. Better narrator wins. Loser drinks.” Remembering she was nursing a roll between her fingers, Hinata’s cheeks hollowed out a little as she took a long draw. She wouldn’t look at him. He drank up her movements with idle fascination. Taking a drag from his own, it also occurred to Sasuke that he might already be a little plastered too. Hinata felt herself flushing under Sasuke’s gaze and tried to distract herself by blowing smoke rings. His stare was puzzling, just like him. It stirred up her insides in the most fascinating way, morphing her smoke rings into shaky, pseudo circles desperately pretending to be round. Seconds later, she concluded that his laugh was one of the best sounds she has ever heard. “That was horrible. Here, like this.” Sasuke showed her. He cracks his mouth open and blew perfect ones. As she followed his lead, only wobbling, sad-looking circles managed to escape her mouth. A fraction of his laugh was heard again. Hinata stifled the thought of the inevitable morning where his laughter would be nothing more than a half-remembered vision. Inhaling for yet another try, she held it in for a few seconds. Maybe it was the small high of the nicotine rush, or the light buzz from the cheap bottle, or something else, he didn’t know. When she parted her lips with the smoke pooling out ever so slowly, Sasuke had wanted to kiss her. So he did. And she kissed him back as the smoke danced around their faces. When he pulled away a little, she couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Is this okay?” “Yeah. This is fun.” “Wanna do it again?” She was sold. The night was cold but the hand on her cheek was warm. They made out some more. He pulled away again. His lips grazing hers as he asked. “Wait, how do we know who’s the better narrator?” She shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

10:16 PM

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. The night had become colder. Glowing orbs of car lights pierced strange patterns throughout the street. She was slightly terrified of crossing the street since everybody there drove like they were stunt extras from a car chase in a bad action flick. Another sharp turn took them down a busy street. They walked and drowned in the neon glow of the city, eyeing the vibrant buildings lit by hundreds of multicolored lights. The pubs were everywhere. Pubs with proper names like the Apple, Conspiracy Garden, Purple Unicorns, and the Aged Ship. “Here we are,” he glanced over her, brushing his thumb against her knuckle. “The Drunk Poet?” “Let’s go in. You wanna go, yes?” “Yeah, but why’d you pick this one?” “I noticed it’s the only one offering discounts for students.” Hinata couldn’t even see the bar from where they were. A wall of people guarded it and a haze of smoke hung over, as if it had its own climate. “What are you having?” Sasuke asked. “I’ll go and get it. Maybe you try to find somewhere to stand?” “A zigzagger?” “Right. Okay.” He threw himself into the crowd and was absorbed. It came to his mind that this was the first time they were separated since they met just hours ago. Squeezing herself in between bodies drowned in liquor and sin, she backed far into a wall for a little air. There was nowhere to stand, she thought. Pressing herself in close, she examined the wall fastened with hundreds of ripped pieces of paper. ‘Let us go then, you and I When the evening is spread out against the sky To lead you to an overwhelming question… Oh, do not ask what is it Let us go and make our visit.’ Sasuke found her there, looking intently at the wall like a psychopath, reading the grimy papers like her life depended on it. He carried a pint glass full of dark liquid coughing up tiny bubbles. Passing her the glass, she had a brief flash of the disgusting wine they had earlier. She shuddered. He placed himself next to her then looked up at the wall too. “I like that one. Read it to me,” he said, pointing to a poem passage. “’Stand at the window as the tears scald and start,’” he threw an arm around her shoulders, earning himself a blush across the bridge of her nose. She ran on. “’You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.’” Her skin was alive with the feeling of equal parts wonder and doom. “Hinata, I have a crooked heart. And you…” he bent down, giving her a light kiss on the chin. “…Are my crooked neighbor.” He felt giddy so he smiled at her. At that nanosecond, the world could have ended. And she still wouldn’t have moved from where she stood, staring up at him. Sasuke averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was hopelessly hooked, and then buried himself beneath the scattered words again. “I like that one too,” he said, distracting himself. ‘What is the life of a human being— A drop of dew, a flash of lightning? This is so sad, so sad’ “I like it too,” she paused to think over the words. “But I don’t think I completely agree with it.” “Why not? It’s true. We are so small. Life is so fragile. It’s an inevitable fight and we’re doomed to lose. Time is always never enough. I had to learn that the hardest possible way. All we are is a split second in the grand scheme of things. There’s no greater tragedy.” “Maybe we’re all just little dewdrops and lightning flashes, born to a tragedy of being forgotten and passing too quickly. But I think there’s no bigger spectacle than that. I might be nothing more than a dewdrop, but maybe I can make ripples on the water or maybe tip over leaves,” she said, determined to disagree. “You might be nothing more than a lightning flash, but maybe a little kid would catch a glimpse of you and remember you and make you feel like you’re not just one, but a thousand more. Sasuke, it’s not a tragedy at all, no?”

12:21 AM

“Look at that lady.” “What about her?” “How do you think her story goes?” “She helps run a food bank in her spare time. See her bag? It contains a small gift she just bought from the night market. It’s for the little girl who always comes by their truck. A lady of altruism.” They were huddled on the topmost step of plaza’s stairway, overlooking the flea fair. The city twinkled with the string of lights hanging above the stalls. “Perhaps she’s planning to kill her cheating lover. Not a gift on her bag, but a gun. She knows what a .44 does to a man’s dick. Now she’s this vengeful lady,” Sasuke countered. Hinata laughed. She furtively pointed to a young couple. “The blue-eyed girl with the black-haired boy. They’re just about to go home from visiting the girl’s family in the next city from here. The girl works as a psychologist, but the boy is a fucking sloth.” “Mm. Guy over there with the bowl cut…he wanted to be a monk and went to various monasteries. Changed his mind because all the monks did was ask if they could suck his cock.” “Ahh. Sucking cock. Everything always comes down to that, no?” He laughed. “You’re right.” “About the cock sucking part?” “No, no. About what you said in the cemetery. How you could make up the best and the worst stories for people.” “They could end up anywhere if we imagined hard enough,” she muttered, pale eyes studying the ocean of people below. “Maybe we could end up anywhere too,” he replied, feeling half out of his mind. Just a bit. It was nice. She let herself imagine it—the crunch of browning leaves under their feet as they walked home, discussing magic in the universe, and cats, and ruling systems, and whatever the fuck there was to talk about. She imagined the cold hitting her skin when they arrive and don’t stay in their clothes. She imagined all the futures they might have, all the people they might become. “Yes. We could. But this night is almost over, Sasuke.” She gave him the softest smile. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?” “I don’t know. The future is uncontainable.” “Right. And unknown.” “And finite.” “And terrifying.” “And beautiful.” “So beautiful…” “Let’s just pretend we’re going to die when the sun comes up,” Hinata propositioned. The midnight streets were still awake with the cacophony of multitudes. He’s never been this far from home, and sitting right next to him was a girl he liked but cannot have. “So we won’t be that lonely when we never get this night again, right? That way, I could imagine the best for you and you could do the same for me,” he said, accepting the loveliest of all tragedies—the quick, fluttering moment when their lives intersected, only to part and go their separate ways again. He knew what she meant. “Exactly.” Hinata looked at him, feeling both happiness and hopelessness sink in as the lights faltered beneath them. Sasuke’s voice was just above a whisper, hoping to keep the next few words a little secret between them and the universe. “So is that an agreement? Let’s both die in the morning?”

5:50 AM

“Let’s just stay here for a while and watch the world go by.” So they lazed there—backs against a thousand blades of grass, fingers intertwined, staring up at a cloudless summer sky. “This is it, Hinata. We’re going to die soon.” “I know.” “What could we do?” “Take joy in it.” She shifted on her side to burn his image on her mind: crooked smile, tousled hair, careful hands, eyes the color of the night sky. He thought of all the dark. And the quiet. And the city. And her. And her eyes. And her lips. Mostly her eyes—her eyes looking back at his like there was something inside him worth seeing. The buttons of her shirt were fastened all the way up. He subtracted three. He lifted a hand to trace her collarbones. She wondered what it’d be like to memorize every line on his fingertips. He lifted his head to kiss her neck. Her fingertips grazed the grass and then his hair. “Almost forgot,” reaching into his jacket, he drew out a piece of paper. “I got something for you.” “Oh. You stole this from the Drunk Poet,” she glanced at him then laughed. “Yep. You should call the cops on me,” he said, smiling. Silently, she read on. ‘Loafe with me on the grass… Loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want… Not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice I mind how we lay in June, Such a transparent summer morning’ Not wanting to catch sight of the rising sun, she laid on her stomach, whispering something. “What did you just say?” Sasuke asked, placing a hand on the small of her back. The corners of her mouth turned up. “Today’s a good day to die.”

Thank you for reading!!

Art: idontliveinatent Excerpts: T.S. Eliot, W.H. Auden, R. Akutagawa, W. Whitman Plot: R. Linklater

#ripped this off mr richard's movie script aaaa #so so sorry for this shitshow #sasuhina #sasuhinamonth #sasuhinamonth2019 #shmonth2019

48 notes · View notes