#on that embarrassingly fond note good night <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jincherie · 4 years

Text

sunshine riptide | ot7

— COMMISSION —

⊙ — pairing: ot7 x reader ⊙ — genre: hybrid au, fluff, comfort, found family, ac inspired ⊙ — wc: 13.8k+ ⊙ — warnings: oc has an almost/light anxiety attack towards the end. there is no explicitly mentioned trigger and it isn’t dwelled on for long, but better to let u guys know! ⊙ — notes: here it is! it’s soft, and warm, and I hope that it can be something to cheer up a little bit those who aren’t having such a good day. i love u all, and I hope you like this piece :) to the commissioner, thank you for allowing me to write this and I truly hope it helps you feel even just a little bit better! <3

Moving to this island whose inhabitants are mostly hybrids was a bit of an impulse decision, something you did with empty pockets barely a cent to your name. Thanks to the kindness of the island’s ‘mayor’ you have a place to stay, the last spare room in a sharehouse with seven hybrids, and for three months he will pay your rent in exchange for you to work in his shop until you are back on your feet. It’s a sweet deal, but when you begin to get along better than expected with your housemates and the deadline for your departure looms ever closer, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to make yourself leave when the time comes.

— posted; 06.09.2020 | masterlist

“So in exchange for three months paid stay on the island while you get back on your feet, you will work part-time at the Rabbits Den three days a week, and man the desk in the Resident Services Building on Sundays. Is that okay to you?”

You nod eagerly, the ordeal seeming too good to be true and something you’re afraid will be retracted if you don’t act with haste. Mr Bang returns your motion with a little less fervour, the same kind look never leaving his face.

“Perfect, it’s settled then! We’re glad to have you with us, y/n.”

Something lifts from your chest in that moment, as though you’d been walking beneath the cover of a lead blanket and it has finally slipped from your shoulders. You feel a little breathless, and you know the grin that slips onto your face is stupidly wide. Embarrassingly, you feel salty pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you so much,” you say, and you mean it. It hadn’t exactly been a well thought out plan, moving here with nothing to your name but your most basic possessions, but you’d just needed to escape and start anew and this… this had been the first opportunity you’d seen. The best opportunity you’d seen. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, young lady.” Mr Bang’s expression grows even softer, if possible. “This is a place people come to find refuge, and happiness. You’re welcome here.”

You clear your throat, turning your head to the side and pretending that you need to cough so he doesn’t see the tear that slips out. You have a feeling he knows, though, as you turn back and find him smiling at you, floppy rabbit ears framing his round face. He reaches out, patting you on the shoulder.

“Now, lets find you a room for the night. I’ll send word to the house I have in mind and make sure they have it nice and tidy before your arrival tomorrow. Sound good?”

It hits you only now how tired you are, more emotionally exhausted than anything, and nod while allowing him to lead you down the hall. That does sound good, actually. That sounds amazing.

O – O – O

You’d arrived on this island in the early hours of the morning yesterday, the late-night ferry the only one that runs to this island on the outskirts of the archipelago. It’s likely due to the fact that the captain is a nocturnal hybrid, and hence prefers to run his business under the cover of night. You hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip over, so when Mr Bang had shown you to the room he was happy to lend you for the night, despite it being barely ten o’clock in the morning you’d passed out the second your head hit the pillow. It was more of a nap than anything, but you suspect that the events of the past few months all caught up to you at once because you woke only for dinner and then fell asleep once more. Mr Bang offered no judgement, and simply left a note instructing you where the bathroom is and where you could find towels so that you could freshen up once you awoke. He also left you a coffee bun in a container, since you’d missed the afternoon tea he held the day before.

You hadn’t even been on this island a day and already the kindness of one of the residents was almost bringing you to tears.

Due to the fact that you’d slept far too early, you end up waking up at an ungodly hour the next day, the day you are meant to be moving in to the sharehouse that Mr Bang told you about. Laying in the bed, nestled in the warmth of the covers and watching as the suns rays slowly begin to stain the ceiling and the curtains in rich marigold, you do your best to get yourself together. You can breathe easy now, any anxiety you’d felt previous now nothing more than an echo in your chest. You feel refreshed, and not just from the ridiculous amount of sleep you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. There are of course some nerves pertaining to meeting your new housemates, but it’s manageable. You have faith that everything will turn out well. It’s a good feeling.

Mr Bang is kind enough to offer you breakfast, and likely would have pushed you to stay for lunch had you not shown up down the stairs with your baggage already in tow. So begrudgingly, he allows you to head on your way, informing you that your new housemates knew of your arrival and had endeavoured to tidy up as much as possible. You thought it was a little funny he was telling you that—just how messy is the house usually?—but he simply shook his head with a smile that told you the answer would come soon enough.

The island isn’t big, but it most definitely isn’t small. The sun is warm and the air cool with a tinge of salt and sea trailing along the breeze, and the path you walk along that skirts the beach is peppered with sand and the odd shell. It makes you happier than anticipated, because just being out here makes you feel so free. Mr Bang told you that the house where you will be staying is on the other side of the island, past the little cluster of shops and small businesses and perched at the edge of the sand, backing onto a river that flows into the ocean and skirted on one side by a small cliff.

“It’s their own little alcove,” Mr Bang had snorted, a mixture of fondness and amusement evident on his features. “They get up to more trouble than I can keep track of over there, but they’re good boys.”

Ah, that’s right. You’d almost forgotten; your new housemates are a bunch of boys. You hope that Mr Bang is right about their character and you won’t be living in discomfort for the next three months.

The path wound and curved a bit, following the edge of the island, and before long you were walking through a section of light forestry. You suspected the house would be on the other side, and were in the midst of thinking just what it would look like when a small squeak! catches your attention and you halt, almost dropping your bag.

It’s silent, save for the way the breeze caresses the leaves around you. You peer around, eyes unable to spot anything in the foliage. Did you imagine it? It’s a little early in your stay to be going crazy. Hesitantly, you adjust your grip on your bag and resume your trek.

Squeak! S-squeeeak!

No, you definitely heard that. You freeze, having gotten a better sense of where the sound is coming from now and turning towards a large tree smothered in vines of varying thickness and clinginess. For a moment, you don’t see anything, eyes squinting hard—it’s like one of those I spy books you used to rave about as a kid— and just when you think you might be looking in the wrong place, you catch movement.

There, in a cluster of the vines dangling from one of the tree’s thicker limbs, is a tiny creature, all tangled up and squeaking in distress.

“Oh my goodness,” you drop your bag, immediately moving closer. “Poor thing—hold on just a second, bub. I’ll get you out. Promise not to bite me?”

The creature offers a squeak and logically you know it isn’t answering your request, but you pretend it is anyway. Carefully stepping over plants and twigs, thanking past you for wearing more practical boots, you reach where the creature is stuck, dangling just below eye level.

The vines it has managed to get all tangled up in aren’t particularly thick, but there are a lot of them, and it has managed to get a few of its limbs stuck in place. Carefully, you snap a few of the more central ones and ease the tiny thing out, getting a better view of it the more you pull from its body. It’s squeaking all the while, though with much less distress and more of an energy that simply feels chatty. It makes you smile.

“There you go,” you murmur, cradling the tiny baby in your palms and cooing, trying to calm the heartbeat and hurried breaths you can feel racing against your skin. You stroke along its back as lightly as you can manage. “Oh, you’re a little sugar glider! You’re so pretty, such a cutie. Look at your markings, wow… so pretty.”

Almost as though it can understand your praise and is basking in it, it flicks its bushy tail and rolls in your palm, like a cat rubbing against something with its cheek except this little glider is doing it with its whole body. It’s awfully friendly, you note. Perhaps much of the wildlife here is more peacefully accustomed to human and hybrid activity.

“Okay, you’re free now. I’ll stop ogling at you and let you go,” you say, holding your hands up to a part of the tree that isn’t covered in vines lest there be a repeat of the earlier situation. The sugar glider merely blinks, eyes still on you, and doesn’t move. Brows drawn in confusion, you move your hands closer to the tree, “Well, aren’t you going to—oh!”

Faster than you can react, the little thing darts from your hands, leaping to your bicep and scurrying up with tiny claws in your shirt to your shoulder. Once at its apparent destination, it rushes to the crook of your neck and makes itself at home, nestling against you and securing itself with its tail partway around the back of your neck and its little paws clutching your shirt edge. You giggle, still in shock and trying not to jostle it off as you fight the ticklish sensation.

“Okay. I guess you can come with me. I’m not sure if you can stay the whole while, but I’m sure it will be okay while I walk.”

So off you go, bending and retrieving your bag carefully so you don’t dislodge your tiny new companion. You’ve seen a bit of sugar gliders, but the way this one is acting is quite peculiar. If it sticks around until you arrive at the house, you’d love to snap a quick picture because it really is so pretty, so cute.

The trip is faster than anticipated, now there is something else to occupy your thoughts. Before you know it you’re out of the forestry and approaching a large, modern three storey building that is probably just a few yards short of a mansion, nestled between the ocean, the river, and a short cliff-face just barely higher than the roof. This is the place for sure.

The little glider seems to perk up, the closer you get, something that surprises you since it was so quiet you thought it was asleep. With a soft noise, it grabs onto your hair with tiny paws and scurries to the top of your head, likely making a mess of it in the process but it’s so cute you can’t bring yourself to mind. At least it will be an interesting first impression.

As you approach the front door, you think you see movement in one of the windows on the ground floor. You almost dismiss it as you reach the eve, until you catch the hurried patter of feet against hardwood from beyond the door.

You barely manage to blink before the door is flying open, a man with raven curls and two fluffy russet ears peeking between the locks presenting you with the biggest grin you have ever seen on anyone’s face. It’s boyish and cute, a direct contrast to the mature, sculpted features of his face.

“Hello!” he says, and you catch sight of a long, fluffy russet tail whipping behind him and betraying his excitement—not that he was doing much to hide it. “You must be the new roomie! It’s nice to meet you! We’ve been waiting all morning, and one of us actually went to pick you up but… I’m not sure where he is.”

You’re a little overwhelmed but easily recover when he simply keeps looking at you so happily, returning the man’s bright smile. There’s rustling in your hair at the back of your head but you ignore it, adjusting your grasp on your bag. “Ah, thank you. I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

The man pulls back, a sheepish look on his face that accompanies a light flush in his cheeks. “Oh, right. I’m Taehyung. Sorry. My hyungs tell me I tend to get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

You keep the smile on your face. “That’s okay, we got there in the end. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung brightens, tail curling happily behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted from a voice to the side.

“Are you going to make our poor new housemate wait outside all day, Tae?”

The light blush colouring Taehyung’s cheeks deepens, a sheepish laugh escaping. “No. I was just about to invite her in!”

He steps back and reveals the person behind him who had spoken, a tall man with dimples and silvery hair that did little to conceal the large, rounded grey ears atop his head. He seems a little awkward in his stance, like he has more body than he knows what to do with, but still extends an arm in greeting with a kind smile. “y/n, is it? Welcome, please come in. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us, however brief. We’re happy to have you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry! If you cry now you can never show your face here again. You clear your throat, returning his smile as you step inside and out of the sun, the difference in temperature against your skin immediate. “Thank you, I really appreciate your generosity in letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung snorts, “Namjoon-hyung has been saying for months we should find someone to fill the spare room, and now you show up on our doorstep! It’s perfect.”

The taller, who Taehyung had referenced as Namjoon, seems a little bashful, his cheeks heating. Does everyone in this house blush so easily? You hope it’s not contagious.

There is movement in your hair again, the glider apparently needing to breathe, and you have your mouth open ready to explain when Namjoon beats you to it.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jimin already!”

What?

The glider leaps from your head and onto Taehyung’s outstretched arm, climbing to his head before leaping from that too and gliding through the air, all the way around the corner. There is a small clutter, the sound of a light swearword entering the air, and then the ever-familiar patter of feet against hardwood. Another boy rounds the corner, ashy-blond hair tousled and parted by two small grey ears, bushy tail curling behind him.

He skids to a stop in front of you, dipping in a brief bow before rising and shooting you a bright smile. “Hello! Thank you for helping me! I’m Jimin, welcome home!”

It takes all of your willpower to keep the happy tears at bay as you tilt your head back and laugh, already feeling lighter than you ever remember feeling before.

O – O – O

Your next introductions to the hybrids you will be sharing your home with for the next three months go much smoother and without as many surprises as the last ones. Jimin, who seems to have warmed up to you quickly, was more than happy to take you on a tour of the house and to go through introductions while he was at it. He happily told you who was what hybrid as well, without you asking. You figured that he realised your underperforming human nose wouldn’t be able to tell, so he took the initiative and you’re thankful for it, because you were curious.

The oldest resident of the house is Seokjin, a red-panda hybrid who goes on a spree of stress-baking every time exam season rolls around. Most of the hybrids study online, as you learnt from Jimin’s excited chattering. The second you met Jin, as he preferred to be called, you were stunned at how handsome he was. Of course, any awe that rooted you to the spot quickly dissipated as he said a joke so painfully funny it left you with whiplash between the urge to roll your eyes and guffaw. You like him, though. He’s nice.

You quickly discover that all the inhabitants of this house are, though. Yoongi is the second oldest and a squirrel glider hybrid—something Jimin said he found funny since he was closest to Jimin, a sugar glider, and Hoseok, the third oldest and a sunny squirrel hybrid. He giggled as he told you, and you couldn’t hide your own smile even as Yoongi’s ear had flicked and he’d shot the two of you a suspicious look. The little fun fact Jimin had told you about Yoongi had taken you by surprise; he remotely operates the island’s radio, many of the tunes ones he has created himself. Often, if there is a festival, he will volunteer his time to work the music jobs there, too. Apparently Namjoon also pitches in, and Hoseok when he has free time outside of the classes he teaches on the other side of the island.

Hoseok is a dancer, Jimin had gushed, and while he teaches at the school part time, he also volunteers time outside of that to hold dance classes for the kids. Jimin told you that he joins occasionally, but less often lately since his workload for university has increased. He did tell you, though, that the youngest of the house had all but taken his place, his youthful heart at home mucking around with kids and helping them learn.

Jungkook is his name, and Jimin informed you with a very fond and very amused look that he is rather shy, so you might not see him for a few days. Apparently it had been uttered just loud enough for the hybrid in question to catch it though, because there was a tumbling sound from the floor above and a series of stomping footsteps. A head of long, wavy inky hair had popped over the railing, grey ears pinned back as a baby-faced boy delivered a glare to the blonde to your side.

“Hyung! That’s not true! I’m not too shy to even introduce myself!” he had defended himself avidly, red-faced and huffy. When his eyes turned to you, mouth open to follow through on his words, he abruptly shrank and all that escaped was a squeak. It took him a moment to conjure speech once more, and this time he was noticeably less bold. “I’m—I’m Jungkook! It’s nice to meet you! I have to go now! Goodbye!”

And then he was gone, and so concluded your final introduction to the residents you had yet to meet. You thought you had a good feeling when you first arrived, but now that you’ve met everyone and everything feels that bit more real, you find yourself thinking…

It’s a really good feeling.

O – O – O

“It’s not what it looks like!”

You raise a brow, book in hand as you stand at the edge of the sand bank where green bleeds into gold. Against your heels is cool grass, and your toes are dipped in the gentle warmth of the sand. Namjoon sits in front of you, beneath a tree protruding from the dune, with a bundle of leaves in his hand and a guilty look in his face.

“Isn’t eucalyptus toxic to humans and hybrids?”

“I’m not eating it!” Namjoon waves his hands in a frantic bid to assure you, eyes wide, and almost drops the leaves in question. His large, grey ears flick in his distress. “I was just… I know I can’t eat it but it smells so good… I was just sniffing it. It calms me.”

You let out a light laugh, walking closer and plopping down on the sand beside him, beneath the generous shade the tree offers. The sea breeze is kind and cools your skin where it smarts from the sun, tickling your neck and manipulating your hair into a tumbleweed. Namjoon snorts, helping you get it back in order.

“No judgement,” you say, crossing your legs and placing your book in your lap for the meantime. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, because I do not know where to find one on this island.”

Namjoon grins, rosy cheeks complimenting his skin the way it glows gold in the sun’s glare. “You’d drag little ol’ me all the way to the hospital if you knew where it was?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh, sifting sand through your fingers as you relish the sound of waves crashing barely a yard away. It’s so peaceful, you feel so at peace. “Since none of you seem to know what a car is.”

“We had a car,” Namjoon admits, face flushing violently as he averts his gaze, turning his head. “There was just, um, an unfortunate incident… that may have involved a tree, or two…”

You decide not to probe further, lest your current good impression of Namjoon come under threat. A beat of silence passes, before Namjoon shuffles, placing the bundle of leaves back on the grass. He angles his body a little more towards you, sniffing subtly.

“So… how is your stay so far? Is everything going okay?”

You can’t hide the expression of surprise that makes its way to your face as you turn to him, blinking. You don’t know what you were expecting, but for some reason it hadn’t been that. It’s awfully nice of him.

You’ve been on the island almost a week now. The interactions you’ve had with your housemates so far, though not too bountiful, have all been pleasant, and you genuinely have nothing to complain about. You haven’t seen much of Jungkook, Hoseok, or Yoongi—but that mostly comes down to incompatible work hours and commitments. Mr Bang’s nephews run the Rabbit’s Den, the local convenience store that occasionally hosts a few exotic goods, and they have been nothing short of helpful, polite, and friendly while you worked there. You have worked a single shift at the Resident Services Building too, and it was pretty chill. A few residents came in, happily introduced themselves to you, and then you helped them with whatever had warranted their visit. All in all, your stay has been amazing so far.

“It’s been good,” you say, and it feels so nice to have the words escaping your mouth be true to the warmth in your chest. “Everyone here is super nice. It does feel a bit odd though, sometimes I feel like I’m the only human here.”

“Oh, yeah. You are,” Namjoon huffs an amused laugh. “You’re the first human Mr Bang has allowed on this island.”

Your surprise is evident, and it makes him smile when he turns his head to give you a sly look. “He must have had a good feeling about you. Rabbit hybrids tend to rely a lot on their gut feelings and intuition.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks warming. Well, you’re glad he had decided to let you in. You say as much to Namjoon, and he smiles brightly at you.

“We’re glad he decided to let you in, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, a little embarrassed from the unexpectedness of it—was he really telling the truth? You’d hardly spent any time with some of your other housemates…

A calm silence begins to settle between you, and you take the time to open your book and resume where you left off. You get so carried away reading that when you finally look up some time later, the sight to your side almost makes you gasp.

Namjoon had, at some point, fallen asleep in a little patch of sunlight that manage to pierce through the foliage—in the place of the large, long-limbed man you had been talking to is now a considerably smaller fluffy koala, sitting upright and snoozing lightly. You suspect this isn’t the most ideal position for him to be sleeping in, though, because every few moments he will sway on the spot, almost tipping but not quite going far enough to have an abrupt meeting with the sand.

You coo, unable to help it, but the sound quickly grows alarmed when he leans too far—before you can think your arms shoot out to hold him up, but it seems there is something true to what is said about koalas being clingy because the second he feels something touch him, koala Namjoon clings.

You squeak, a fully-grown koala now wrapped around your forearm. Slowly, you bring it closer to you (feeling your bicep burn all the while because damn is he heavier than he looks!), planning to use your other hand to ease him off, but it seems that the second you’re close enough he can sense your warmth and he wants in. You sit, exasperated and amused, with a koala now latched to your midriff, arm forgotten. Both your hands are now free, but at what cost?

You figure that he’ll probably let go when he wakes up, or he might fall back into the sand in his sleep, but until then you resign yourself to unexpected but definitely not unwelcome koala cuddles. You just hope he won’t be too embarrassed when he wakes up; you can already see him stuttering and going red in your mind’s eye. It brings a chuckle to your lips, and with a smile on your face you return to your book once more, a little more content than before.

O – O – O

It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with the dreams.

Usually, once they start you can wake yourself up, or you can manage to turn them around if they’re one you’ve had before. But some nights, when the dreams come, you’re helpless but to see them play out. Sometimes they’re not that bad, but even the milder ones leave you with a nauseous ball of anxiety beneath your lungs and a feeling of discomfort that digs claws deep in your bones.

About three weeks into your stay, you wake up after one such dream, a cursory glance to your phone and the painful glare of its screen revealing it to be the early hours of the morning. For a moment you simply lay, blinking, with your gaze rooted on the ceiling. You had strung up some fairy lights around your dresser, and on the plaster above you the soft colourful rainbow of their hue meshes and blends with the cool pools of moonlight slipping through your curtains.

Absently, and with a sense of resignation that you feel in your bones, you strip the cover back and climb out of bed, deciding you may as well grab some water since you’re likely not going to be able to fall asleep very easily anytime soon.

As you make your way through the levels to the ground floor where the kitchen resides, you’re careful to be as quiet as possible—you’re not sure how successful your effort is but you do know that quite a few of your housemates have been inundated with coursework lately and you don’t want to disturb any of the valuable rest they need so badly. Jimin had looked so wiped out yesterday that you’d literally had to pull him away from the dishes and send him to bed. He complained on the way, but as soon as his head hit his pillow he was out, leaving you in a mixture of awe and concern. He explained as soon as he woke the next morning that he had been up all night completing an assignment, and it made you realise just how exhausted a lot of your roommates seem lately. You hope this period passes soon for them; you may not have been here long but you have grown to care for them and you don’t like seeing them so unwell.

You’re just pondering this when you reach the ground floor and venture into the kitchen, thoughts and feet coming to an abrupt stop as you take in the sight that greets you there.

Seokjin is standing by the bench, hands moving slowly as he puts something together just out of your view. A quick survey of the rest of the countertop tells you that he’s making lunches, and while ordinarily this would touch your heart (as it does every time you see how each of the hybrids in this house cares for each other), this time you’re overcome with a strong wave of concern.

Delicately put, Seokjin looks dead on his feet.

Every few moments his head bobs down, chin almost hitting his chest before he jerks awake just long enough to lift his head, before the cycle repeats once more. He looks so exhausted you’re impressed he managed to make as many lunches as he did. Though, from the looks of it he’s only about halfway through.

“Hey, Seokjin… are you okay?”

The hybrid jumps, the startle you gave him probably rendering him more awake than he has been in a few hours.

“Wh—what are you doing awake?” he sputters, having to lean against the bench so that he doesn’t fall over. “It’s almost midnight!”

You can’t help the look you give him, a mixture between amusement and concern. “Um… it’s a little past midnight actually… probably closer to two… are you alright?”

Seokjin blinks at you for a second while your words sink in, before he sags with a light groan, bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleepiness. His bushy, striped tail sways behind him before curling around his thigh. “I’m just… kind of wiped out. I was up finishing a part of a really big assessment piece and it took longer than I thought… I was going to go to bed but then I remembered that I hadn’t prepared the boys’ lunches, and I always do that, so I came down here and…”

He makes a great, sweeping gesture over the mess on the bench, a result of his patchy attention. A huff of laughter escapes him. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you finished your piece, but… do you really have to make their lunches? I think you should probably get some sleep…”

You were a little worried he might take your words the wrong way, but you can tell from the serene expression on his face that he doesn’t. “I always do it. If I don’t, then they might worry about me, and I don’t want them to worry about me when they should spend that energy worrying about themselves. Plus, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I knew they weren’t done.”

You return his amused smile, taking a step closer and willing yourself to speak the idea that had come to mind.

“Well, considering I found you almost sleeping on the spot when I came down, I think you should probably call it a night and get some rest. I’d be happy to finish up and make sure the lunches are done, if you’d like?”

You can see the resistance immediately, the tall man opening his mouth to refuse—but he halts, and for a moment slips into his own thoughts. Sensing that he just needs a little push, you continue, “If you tell me what you usually make, I should be able to finish the rest of them without too much trouble.”

He blinks, and in that moment you see the rest of his exhaustion flood to the surface. He sniffles, unable to fight the yawn that rises. “… Okay. If that’s really alright with you…?”

You laugh, reaching to bump Seokjin’s side. “Of course it is. I don’t mind at all, especially if it means you’ll go to sleep in your bed and not on the kitchen floor. Now, what do you normally make…?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Seokjin does his best to stay awake long enough to instruct you on what he makes and how he makes it for the remaining members of the household. You can’t help but notice throughout his explanation that he doesn’t seem to make lunch for himself despite making it for everyone else, and as he finally plods off to bed and passes out, you make the decision that you’re going to make some lunch for him too. It takes you a brief google search on the diet of red pandas and their hybrid counterparts, as well and recalling what you know of Seokjin’s taste in food, but it doesn’t take you too long to decide on what to make. You work through the lunches one by one, grateful for the distraction, and complete the task fully when Seokjin’s sits primly next to the rest. You pile them all into the fridge, washing your hands again before grabbing the water you originally came down for, and then you’re making the trip back upstairs to your own bed, a soft smile on your face and a warm satisfaction curling around your lungs. You fall asleep easier than expected for a night where you had one of those dreams, but there most definitely aren’t any complaints to be found as you drift off with a faint smile on your lips.

The next day, it’s only a little before midday when Seokjin finally rises from his slumber and makes his way downstairs. Blearily, he reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge, attempting to think through his sleep-addled brain what he should make for lunch. Those thoughts are interrupted as he catches sight of a box he hasn’t seen outside of the little tupperware cupboard by the stove in ages sitting on the middle shelf, a little paper tag with ‘for Seokjin’ scribbled onto it perched on top.

He pulls it out and places it on the bench, staring in confusion. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to kick his limbs into gear and open it, but from that point on the realisation comes quickly with the memory of last night.

You’d gone and made lunch for him, too. And from the looks of it, you’d paid great attention to what to include.

His stomach rumbles violently as he takes in the sight of berries and the bamboo shoots he usually stores in the fridge that you must have taken the time to boil and season. There is a sandwich in there as well but he doesn’t need to check whether he will like it because he can already smell the salmon.

He doesn’t know what to think, or really what to say. He knows he’s just lucky you’ve already gone to work at the Rabbit’s Den because otherwise you would probably be here and risk seeing his eyes tear up a little.

A side effect from being sleepy and stressed is the dramatics, he knows, but still… he can’t help but notice the warm feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks of how nice you are to do such a thing.

O—O—O

“You’re gonna love it when we get there, y/n! It’s so pretty, and there’s so much fruit… I’m going to feast.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the company of your two housemates and the combination of cool breeze and warm sunlight the air offers as they kiss your skin. It’s earlier in the morning than you tend to wake up, but you’ve been invited out on an exclusive adventure and you aren’t in any position to say no. For the past few weeks you’ve noticed that on a Saturday and Sunday morning, Taehyung tends to disappear. You don’t know where, and each time you saw him again you forgot to ask, but finally the opportunity had arisen for you to sate your curiosity. Happily, the lemur hybrid had informed you that there is a small section of the island towards the north that is absolutely packed with trees, bushes and otherwise, all peppered with ripe fruit. Some days he goes to tend to them, but on the weekends he confessed to you that he normally goes to harvest the literal fruits of his labour.

“Just don’t eat all of the tamarind again, Jiminie, or I will have to kill you myself.”

Jimin lets out a loud laugh, stumbling in his gait for a moment from the force of it. “Yessir! Understood, sir!”

Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile, and he returns his gaze to the front to continue marching ahead and leading the two of you to his secret spot. You adjust your hold on the woven bag over your shoulder, brushing away some of the more unruly strands of hair that have made their way across your face by riding on the breeze.

“Thanks again for inviting me, Tae,” you say, unable to hide the skip in your step as you plod along after them, smiling brightly. “I’ve been wanting to explore more—it feels wrong that I’ve been here for a month and barely seen everything there is to see.”

Taehyung spins to flash you a beaming grin over his shoulder, ears flicking and tail curling happily. “Of course, it’s no problem! I did wonder if you’d like to come some time, so I’m glad you mentioned it the other day.”

Jimin gasps, the sound somewhere between playful and affronted. “You asked her yourself to come?! I had to beg for weeks! Weeks!”

“I told you, the fruit weren’t done when you first asked!” Taehyung whines, reaching back and pausing in his steps just long enough to whack Jimin on the shoulder. “You just didn’t listen!”

“I’m baby,” Jimin says, whether in affirmation or explanation you’re not sure. It manages to tear a laugh from Taehyung either way, and you’re no different.

You’re not left stewing in anticipation for long; before you know it you’re broaching the place that Taehyung and Jimin speak so highly of. Rounding a corner, you come across a large grove that ends beyond what your eyes can see—some trees curl and wind, others stand straight and proud with their roots covered modestly with smaller shrubbery. Vines cling and string around some trunks, but the one thing all of the flora in front of you has in common is that they’re all ripe with fruit, ready to be picked.

“Oh wow,” you remark, barely aware you’ve even said anything. A deep laugh sounds from beside you and you turn to see Taehyung grinning brightly, tail curling happily behind him and his little ears flicking with glee.

“Pretty, right? Some of these were already growing here when I found it, like the apples, but the rest of it I planted over time. I’m proud of how it’s turned out.”

“You should be!” you exclaim, pointing to the fruit displayed in the very image of temptation before you all. “Dude, they look delicious.”

“They are!” Jimin chimes in, flitting past you and snagging his finger in your sleeve as he goes to drag you along. “Come on, there’s a mulberry tree up the back and it has the juiciest berries. We have to pick them now before all the birds and fruit bats get them.”

Laughing, you allow the sugar glider hybrid to lead you into the grove of greenery, the man ducking and weaving around branches with ease as his feet follow a path well-worn into the dirt and grass. The splotches of sunlight that filter through the foliage are pleasant where they warm your skin, breeze ensuring you don’t get too hot beneath the kiss of a star. In the shadows of the trees, it is actually much cooler than you expected, but you can’t help but feel that the temperature, the air, the sights—everything feels perfect.

The mulberry tree, fondly called Ol’ Bessy as Jimin had eagerly informed you, is a large, looming monster of a tree with a plethora of winding trunks and subordinate thin branches that dangle and sway in the breeze in the image of a weeping willow. When you comment on the sheer size of it, Taehyung simply shrugs and tells you with a smile that it’s been here a long time, before anyone was on the island.

The three of you don't have much desire to waste any more time standing and dawdling, and so you begin your activity for the day, woven bags and baskets prepared and at the ready. You inspect the mulberries that are hanging lowest, spying the occasional green one but becoming easily appeased when you find bunches of ripe ones, plump and fit to burst as they weigh the thinner branches down.

Gathering them is harder than anticipated, because you hadn't accounted for the fact they they're, well, berries. It takes a few attempts and more than a few instances of stained hands before you figure out the best way to pluck them from the tree without bursting them. Taehyung saw the first one you popped and the way it went all up your arm, and hasn't stopped laughing since.

The three of you bounce between fruits and trees, filling your containers with whichever you prefer. After a while though you all seem to have the same idea to congregate at the mulberry tree. Admittedly, you hadn't been able to stop yourself from munching on some of the fruits as you picked them, but as you look at them and see berry stains around their mouths and apple leaves in their hair, you feel a little less guilty about it. Taehyung places his basket down, leaning it securely against the base of the tree trunk, before dusting his hands with a sharp clap and then resting them on his hips.

"Right," he says, eyes alight. "There's just one more tree to visit. I think you're gonna love it."

You tilt your head, wondering just what other kind of fruit he has up his sleeve when already you've picked so many. Surely he's constrained even a little bit by the climate? Or does he have magically green thumbs? Jimin giggles at your confused expression.

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

The question gives you pause. "Uh... decent? I suppose?"

"Great!" Taehyung exclaims, picking his basket back up and closing the lid to help secure it on his back. "Let's go!"

Once more you're lead in between and through the trees and shrubs, following the gleeful lemur hybrid and his grinning companion back to the middle of the grove. Before long you're stumbling to a halt, having reached the location and wondering how on earth you managed to miss this tree before.

It's bigger than Ol' Bessy by a decent margin, but confusion filters through you when you can't seem to spot any fruit hanging from its branches. You turn to Taehyung, about to question him, but he simply grins and darts over to the massive trunk (really, you don't think two of you could hug it from either side and have your fingers touch, it's so big). It's only after he begins scaling it with alarming ease that you take note of the grooves and footholds curled into the trunk, making it a naturally perfect tree for climbing. Jimin darts up after his friend, apparently also well-versed in the art of climbing this tree, and breaks you from your awed reverie with a shout over his shoulder.

"Come on, y/n! Or Tae is gonna take the good spot!"

Unsure what he means and unsure if you're willing to find out via Taehyung following through on that, you scramble to follow after them and do your best to climb.

It's easier than anticipated, actually, and dare you say it... relaxing. Though you're going higher and higher with each branch you clear, and see less of the ground and more of the canopy with each step, you can't say you're all that scared, or worried. If anything, it's as though a moment of peace has been captured in a bubble, and now settles like cool mist on a spring morning at the bottom of your chest.

In sharp contrast to the cool breeze that brushes your face as you emerge from the thickest part of the foliage, the sun is quick to kiss warmth back into your cheeks. For a moment, you have to pause in your climb, because the view around you is simply so beautiful you're at an absolute loss for words.

From here, the highest point in the grove, you can see a vast majority of the island, a sweeping panorama of lush greens and soft sands that blend into the crystalline waters of the ocean, sunlight turning the surface to a sea of diamonds. Along the stretch of beach, in the distance, you can just barely glimpse the sharehouse, and on the other side of the island the little market square where all the stores and restaurants are appears as smudges and blobs of dark colours.

"It's so beautiful, right?"

You're so immersed in your observation that for a second you almost don't even register that someone is talking to you. Mouth open in awe, you simply turn your expression to Taehyung; the lemur laughs, almost tumbling back from the force of it, and you're shocked back into the moment with worry until you see what stopped him from falling.

Here, at the very top of the tallest tree in Taehyung's secret grove, he has built a small little fixture, a deck with enough space for four people to squeeze onto it at most. It hugs the trunk of the tree and is braced on the few thick branches that split from the tree beneath it. A lot of it is untouched, natural wood, but the bottom is made of processed planks and some of the short balcony ledge has been painted with acrylics, little scenes spanning the length of the strips. You didn't know Taehyung painted, but figure you'll bring it up at another time when you aren't precariously clinging to the top of a massive tree.

Taking the hand that both men offer you, you haul yourself carefully up and onto the deck, marvelling as you get an even clearer view of the island from your new position.

"It really is," you answer him, somewhat belatedly. When the two of them settle down, tree swaying much like you imagine a ship would on the vast expanse of the ocean, you follow suit, with your back pressed securely to the trunk.

Jimin is already flinging open his container, smacking it onto the wood in front of him, and Taehyung laughs once more, the sound so freeing and light that it makes that little bubble of peace in your abdomen expand ever so slightly.

"And now, we feast!" The lemur says, eagerly opening his own basket and setting it in front of him, besides Jimin's. They're both set to overflow from the amount of fresh, ripe fruit piled in.

They shamelessly and unabashedly dig in, eliciting a laugh from you as you move your own bag before you to do the same. It's nice, the perfect lunch in more ways than one; the small amount of foliage above you offers just enough shade that you want for nothing more in the moment besides maybe a pillow or two, everything else accounted for in excess.

You're not sure how long you spend there, but you do know that the sun has made a decent amount of headway in its journey across the sky by the time the three of you are done stuffing your stomachs full, laying across the deck and squinting until the clouds swimming leisurely across the sky begin to resemble something you can put a name to. It's fun, and light, and for what is alarmingly far from the first time, you find yourself so thankful for the choices you made and the path that led you here, to be staying on this beautiful island with these lovely boys.

By time you finish and the three of you are heading back, you’ve eaten through half of the fruit and the boys are so full and sleepy from the big day that they’ve shifted into their animal forms and are now clinging to you, Taehyung with his long limbs around your neck and Jimin with his tiny paws clinging to the hair at the top of your head. You suspect he’s made himself another little nest up there, but can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him for it especially when the soft sounds and chitters he makes to communicate with Taehyung are so damn cute.

The trip back is shorter than you recall, and before you know it you’re approaching the sharehouse once more, it’s looming sides graced with the warm gleam of afternoon sun. Jimin and Taehyung are asleep as you reach the front door, and you’re saved from having to move all the bags and baskets in your hold to open the door when it opens for you. Hoseok is standing there, a startled look gracing his features that quickly blends into one of fondness as he sees his friends, something that makes your cheeks warm ever so slightly.

“Good day?” he asks, stepping back to let you in. You nod, unable to help the wide grin touching your lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

O – O – O

‘…They should be setting up a tower soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can call you again. But until then, I look forward to every letter you send, bubbles.

Write back soon! I miss you.

Love, Dad’

You sniffle, trying not to let out the tears that are so close to slipping from your eyes. You’re not all that upset, you love receiving letters from your father, but it’s just… a little bittersweet. You’d moved here to escape your family, following a certain incident that you’re not keen to revisit, and your father had always been and will always be supportive of you— but it’s hard, when he’s halfway across the globe on one expedition or another.

It was only in the past ten years that your father managed to snag the job of his dreams and follow the passion he’s harboured since he was a child, graduating from his career as an accountant through attention garnered from numerous big research papers to become a well-respected biologist. From the second he accepted the offer, he’d started down a path that led him spending a majority of his life outside of the home and always on the move, hopping from one destination to another.

Whenever he could, he’d take you with him, but he wasn’t always able to. This expedition, which has landed him in the Antarctic, is an example of that. While he can’t be with you physically, he writes often and calls every chance he gets—and though it saddens you sometimes when it highlights the dismal state of the rest of your family, more than anything you’re happy for him and overjoyed that after years of slaving in an office, he finally gets to do what he wants.

You inhale, closing your eyes and trying to let the breath escape in a long, level manner. It’s night, not when you normally go about reading letters from your father but this letter had come late and you’d almost completely forgotten on your way to bed. Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, you’d taken the letter and made yourself comfortable on the balcony, using the ample moonlight as a makeshift reading lamp.

Placing the letter carefully on the table, mindful not to place it in anything dirty or unsavoury, you settle back in your chair and tilt your gaze to the skies, allowing your eyes to become unfocused and simply stare. It's a pretty sight, as you expected-- the stars are much more outgoing here, with no haze or pollution masking their display like in the city on the mainland.

You let out a breath, but even to your ears it sounds more like a sigh. You miss your dad, and you know he misses you too but despite the fact you know it's selfish of you, you kind of wish he had been here with you when you made the decision to move. Of course, you've told him all about it, and he's supported you wholly in every choice you've made, but it's not the same. You don't blame him, and you love him dearly, but still... you're allowed to be sad, just a little. Just for tonight.

Well, that had been your plan-- apparently the universe has other ideas that don't include sulking in the moonlight on your balcony. A scuffling sound disturbs your reverie from the side of your balcony, and you look over in time to see a decent blob of shadow scaling up the side of the balcony next to yours and flinging onto the railing. Once there, it halts, and your eyes adjust just in time to meet those of the creature-- the raccoon, you realise quickly. It tilts its head up, sniffling the air once, before pinning you with an unreadable look. For a moment the two of you sit in silence, locked in place by the other's gaze, before the raccoon lets out a soft noise and then it's little claws are clacking against the hollow metal railing, and it disappears beyond the wall.

Whose room is that... Jungkook's? You muse to yourself for a moment before you remember what kind of hybrid Jungkook is, and in the next second there is the sound of a door sliding shut and Jungkook's bright-eyed face pops around the side of the wall.

"Uh... are you okay?"

You blink, brain taking a moment to catch up and then decipher how he could have possibly known you were even a little bit upset. You recall suddenly that animals can pick up cues, like chemoreceptors, and tilt your head at him with a small smile.

"Yeah... no... I'm alright." You angle yourself more towards him in your chair, cheering internally when you see him stop hiding behind the wall and come to lean against the railing. "Was that you? Where were you off to, this time of night?"

Jungkook looks like he wishes to address the first thing you said, but your follow-up has thrown him a bit for a loop. You can't be sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, but you could almost swear he's blushing.

"Oh, yeah... sorry." He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, hair mussed and eyes averted. "I know my animal form isn't that nice... sorry if you thought it was gross."

"What?!"

At the sheer suddenness and volume of your almost-shriek, Jungkook jumps about a foot in the air. His wide eyes swing back to you, chest heaving as he rests his hand in the centre of it. You clear your throat, shrinking a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," you wince, before going to elaborate on your earlier squawk. "But please don't ever apologise for something like that! I don't know who told you that your animal form is gross, but they can't be all that bright... it was cute."

He looks more like a deer in headlights than the animal he's spliced with right now, eyes wide and staring right at you. You can't help but laugh and tease him, just a little. "Cutest raccoon I ever did see, anyway."

He suddenly comes back to earth, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a long groan. It's from embarrassment, you can tell from the flashes of reddened skin that peek through his fingers. You don't say anything for a moment, letting him return to the conversation on his own terms. Jungkook might be one of the housemates you've interacted with least, but you've heard plenty from the rest of the hybrids in the house.

More often than not, it's about how shy he is and how cute it is when he gets embarrassed. You'd simply nodded and laughed at the time, but now you realise there truly is merit to everything they said.

It takes a few moments of Jungkook muttering into his hands before he pulls his face away, averting his eyes and mumbling softly, "... Thanks. That's really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome," you shrug, smiling when he risks a glance your way to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing nothing that will make him turn tail and flee back into the safety of his room, he eases up, returning his body to it's previous angle towards you.

"So... why were you upset?"

Surprisingly, his question doesn't bother you as you thought it might. You hum, watching as his gaze follows yours to the table, where the letter and the envelope it came in, addressed to you, lay discarded.

"Letter from my dad," you offer in explanation, watching his eyes light in realisation. "Nothing bad, I just miss him so it's... bittersweet."

Jungkook hums, nodding and resting his chin in his hand as he leans forward. "I understand. It's like that with my parents. I know they love me, and I love them, but they're pretty far away and I just... miss them. They're always working."

You're a little surprised that he can relate, although you suppose you really shouldn't be. You don't know very much about Jungkook at all, so it's not fair of you to assume anything about him, even in relation to your own experiences.

"Yeah," you sigh, looking to the sky for a moment as you try and organise your thoughts. "I'm happy he is where he is, doing what he's doing, but I think it's okay to be sad, just for tonight."

Jungkook hums, but doesn't say anything further. It surprises you when he speaks next, the two of you having fallen into a lull.

"Well, you could keep being sad for the night if you want, or... would you maybe wanna see the film I've been working on?"

Your head whips to face him faster than the speed of light, startling him into another jump on the spot.

"Really?" you ask, hurried as though the offer will be rescinded at any moment. "You mean it? I can see it?"

"Yes...?" Jungkook answers, somewhat bewildered. You launch from your chair immediately, rubbing your hands together-- you've heard really good things from the others about his talents in photography and editing, so you've been trying to figure out a way to slip it into conversation for weeks. You've wanted to see them for yourself so badly.

"I'm coming over," you announce, gathering the letter and envelope and already beginning to move towards your room. "I hope your room is clean, Jungkook, or else I'm gonna tease you!"

You'd just meant it as a joke, but the scrambling and hurried footsteps you hear after you say it make you think he took you seriously.

Well, you dad would probably want you to spend the night happy, anyway. You can save being sad for another night.

O -- O -- O

Your time at the house has gone by much faster than you anticipated, and while initially you'd thought that you wouldn't be able to wait to get out, now you find yourself feeling quite the opposite.

You kind of don't want to leave.

At this point, about two months into your stay, you've settled into such a comfortable, stable routine that you struggle to imagine going through the motions in any other way. Often after your early shifts you'll return to the house and catch someone lounging in the sun, and you will no doubt be roped into a short, sweet afternoon nap. On the weekends is group breakfast, and you make sure that you go to bed as early as possible the nights before so that you don't miss it. Taehyung drags you with him of a weekend to fetch fruit and Jimin drags you around the town in general. Some evenings, you find yourself accompanying Namjoon on a walk along the beach, both of you feeling more at peace than ever before when you're standing with feet buried in the sand, watching dusk bleed into twilight and the colours around you stain violet and periwrinkle in the absence of the sun's kiss.

Jungkook knocks on your door at late hours, grinning and eagerly summoning you to his room to watch his latest creation. Seokjin no longer resists your help every other night to make lunches, and has started including you in the schedule as well.

Yoongi and Hoseok are among the busier residents of the house, but you've still spent bits of time with each of them, probably moreso with Hoseok. It's not that you avoid Yoongi or anything like that, it's just that he happens to be the most busy and more often than not is holed up in his room. You don't always see him throughout the week, but he always attends house breakfast on weekends and you're thankful that you get to see him then.

Today, you're spending a little more time with Hoseok. Your shift ended early and you couldn't have thanked your lucky stars any harder, because today the squirrel hybrid had invited you to his dance class. Usually Jungkook or Jimin went with him, both of them enjoying dance as much as their older housemate, but they had both been unavailable today. You'd seen the way Hoseok's face had fallen when they'd told him, and had immediately asked about the class-- you didn't even talk for more than a few minutes before Hoseok was happily inviting you to attend.

It made you a little more pleased than you're going to admit.

You're on your way there now, actually, a skip in your step and a swing in your gait. You've got the tote bag you hold your work things in, and you can hear the rustling of the nuts you'd shoved in there last minute earlier in the day. You'd noticed that Hoseok had forgotten them, so you'd grabbed them to give to him when you saw him. Hopefully he hasn't stuffed himself too full of other foods in the meantime, though from what you've heard apparently he's such a workaholic that he probably hasn't even had lunch yet despite the fact it's currently three in the afternoon.

A majority of Hoseok's classes take place at the school where he teaches, in a room at the end of the drama block that often doubles as a dance classroom when the school gets the funding for it. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar and upbeat pop is leaking through the gap, Hoseok's sunny voice piercing through the music like a pendulum.

"--and one, two, three, one, two, three-- that's it! That's fantastic! Really good job, guys!"

A smile is already on your face as you push the door open enough to let yourself in, gaze immediately falling upon a group of grinning children that are looking up at Hoseok like they're a tiny field of sunflowers facing their namesake. Hoseok stands before them in a borderline comical pose that only primary school teachers can really pull off, hands on his hips and a proud, beaming smile on his face. You can’t help but blink because for a moment it really was as blinding as looking directly at the sun. He spots you before you can recover fully, and greets you with a wave.

“Ah, perfect! Everyone, this is Miss y/n! She’s going to be sitting in today—I told her how good you all were and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Let’s all say hello!”

A chorus of greetings is immediately thrown at you, the attention of the little sunflowers now completely on you. Some gasp and run over, grinning brightly at the novelty of a new character, and others watch from afar but seem pleased nonetheless by your presence and alleged eagerness to see them perform.

Before they can launch into conversation with you like you can so clearly see they want to, the ears of some kids ramrod straight and alert and others’ tails flicking in excitement, Hoseok calls them back to where he stands and to your surprise they obey immediately.

“Alright, let’s let Miss y/n get settled down and we can show her what we’ve been practicing, hm? Sound good?”

There is a chorus of ‘yes!’ that pulls a laugh from you as you make your way to the side of the room with the best view and plop down, cross-legged. Eagerly and very self-consciously, now that they have an audience, the small army of children runs to take their place in the formation, and Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket to pause the song currently playing and pull up the one that matches their routine.

The opening notes filter into the air and Hoseok nods, foot tapping to the beat, before he counts them in and off they go.

Put simply, you’re so incredibly impressed. These kids can dance! You don’t have a doubt that they can dance better than you, not that you ever claimed to have much talent in that department. By the time they finish running through their little routine, you’re clapping and cheering loudly, relishing in the laughter that you’re exaggerated reaction elicits. Hoseok, too, is smiling as he sees how you interact with his students, wandering over after he takes them through it a few more times before giving them a small break.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as he approaches your side of the room, slightly out of breath from doing the routine with them the last few times. "They're so good, aren't they? They've only been working on this for a few weeks and already they have it almost perfectly down-pat. I'm so proud of them."

He slides down the wall next to you, reaching for the bag he'd dropped there presumably before class began; across the room all the students are reaching into their class backpacks for their afternoon snack, and it seems Hoseok has the same idea. You don't even remember the nuts in your bag until he rifles through his for a few minutes, brows furrowed when he comes up empty. His bushy tail flicks dejectedly, ears twitching back on his head, and he pouts.

"Damn, I think I forgot my lunch this morning," he says, and it's enough to jog your memory. You jump in place from the startle of it.

"Oh, I saw that! Here," you quickly reach into your own bag and pull out the nuts and dried fruits, passing it over to him. "I brought it for you, since I figured you'd probably want it at some point."

The way Hoseok's eyes light up when they see the little plastic bag in your hand is almost enough to make you laugh and/or coo out loud. By the skin of your teeth you barely manage to hold that reaction back, but you do smile as he cheers with a short, happy scream and eagerly takes it from your grip.

"My nuts!" Hoseok wastes no time ripping the bag open and grabbing a handful, setting about munching immediately. "You have saved my life today, Miss y/n. I was soooo hungry."

"Didn't get lunch?" you guess, already knowing the answer and having it confirmed when Hoseok nods, completely unfazed by the fact he'd skipped a meal or two.

"I was helping one of the students," he explains, munching happily. His bushy tails curls in content behind him, a sight that makes something happy and warm settle in your chest. "I don't mind missing lunch if it means they get the help they need. I do feel it afterwards, though. Sometimes when I get home I feel so hungry I could eat the whole cupboard out."

A laugh tears from you at his words, the image even funnier because he didn't specify whether he would be doing it in his human form or his animal form. The image of a squirrel wreaking havoc in the house pantry is funnier than you care to admit, but Hoseok just seems happy to have elicited a laugh no matter the magnitude.

It's just a small thing, spending the afternoon with Hoseok and his students, but you find afterwards that it was almost... healing. On the way home, walking besides Hoseok and discussing which dried fruit were the superior dried fruit (he's wrong, and you'll take that opinion with you to the grave), you can't help but feel so light and happy. Like everything is in place, in motion and flowing smoothly. A river without debris and jagged rocks; life right now feels like that moment in nature when water runs over smooth pebbles in a creek, tumbling and pouring but doing so without chaos, and without mess or fallout. Just one continuous, fluid motion.

It feels nice.

You don't even realise until you're laying in bed that night that for a while now, that's how you've been referring to this place.

As home.

O -- O -- O

Aside from the occasional uncomfortable dream, these past few months have been remarkably incident-free, where it concerns the unfortunate topic of your extended family. You'd changed a lot of things when you'd made the decision to move to this island; your phone number, your email addresses and all your passwords, your social media... all of it had been combed through and either switched out or slimmed down. This place is an escape, a place of refuge for you, and that's how you want it to stay.

Unfortunately, the universe isn't always on your side.

It's a rainy afternoon when you receive the call, and you're so fixated on watching the way the rain falls in thin sheets over the ocean that at first from the first floor patio, that you miss it. They don't call again, but a message sets your phone off a minute or so later, and that catches your attention.

Of course, the second you read it and see who it's from, it does more than just catch your attention.

You're not someone prone to many episodes, and you've become adept at self-soothing. But as your eyes begin to stare unfocused at the message and you feel your chest constrict, diaphragm pushing against your lungs, you realise distantly that this is more than you just being momentarily overwhelmed.

You get a bit lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of light-headedness that suddenly washes over you, so much so that when a voice sounds distantly, muffled as though you're listening to someone speak to you from the depths of a pool, you barely even register it at first.

"Hey, y/n, have you seen--"

Still, your eyes are stuck on the message; you don't even notice the way your fingers had begun to tremble while holding the phone until a hand brushes your arm, a figure in front of you blocking the light from beyond the porch.

"y/n, hey, are you.... look at me. y/n, look at me."

Oh, that's a voice, and you do as it says without even a single thought flitting through your head. Looking up, you're barely even as surprised as you should be to see Yoongi standing there, a look of concern spread across his features, brows drawn together as he regards you. You feel a warm touch against your hand, phone tugged from your grip to be replaced with his own. Both your hands are now in his hold and he uses it to ground you, even if just for a moment.

"Can you do me a favour?" Yoongi says, and his voice is so soft and soothing that you find yourself listening as attentively as you can right now. "I need you to breathe with me. I'm gonna count ten breaths, okay? Let's do the first one-- in..."

He inhales deeply, his whole chest moving from the magnitude of it, and you feel as though you're floating in your own head in the moment as you follow suit. Slowly, patiently, he takes you through each breath one at a time, making sure you inhale as big as he does and exhale as long as he does. By the time you reach ten, the light-headed feeling has faded and the constriction in your chest has eased, ever so slightly. As soon as you finish your tenth breath you sag slightly, letting out a gush of air.

"Sorry," you say, slipping one of your hands from his grip to cover your face. "Sorry, I just--"

To your complete and utter surprise, Yoongi's hand lets your other one go and in the next moment you feel arms slipping around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest and letting your face rest on his shoulder. You see his fluffy tail from where your face is squished, catching glimpses over his shoulder of the way it curls calmly.

Once the moment of shock passes, you're unable to help yourself but to return the embrace, surprised by how much you needed this without even knowing so.

"It's okay, don't apologise," Yoongi says, voice still soft and calm. You sag against him, and your eyes burn not from the message that triggered your almost anxiety-attack, but from the sheer kindness you feel emanating from this man. "Happens to the best of us. Are you feeling a little better?"

You nod, because oddly enough you are, and he slowly releases his hold on you, easing back with an assessing look. Another apology rests on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back, knowing he would refuse it if it ever entered the air.

“I am. Thanks,” you say, eyes looking for your phone as you realise suddenly that it is no longer in your hand where you’d left it. Yoongi holds it up, handing it back easily; his gaze passes over the screen as he does so, and the look he gives you is one of empathy and knowing.

“Shitty family?” he inquires, and you nod, choosing not to look at your phone and to slip it straight into your pocket instead. You go to sit against the wall, facing the edge of the patio, and he joins you.

“I get it,” he says, lifting a hand to fluff up his grey-tinted hair before shifting his gaze out to the rain and its reunion with the ocean. “’Part from my parents, the rest of my… relatives… they’re, uh… they’re not so nice. Didn’t treat me all that well, or even my parents for that matter. So… I get it. You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wanna, but I get it.”

You don’t really know what to say to that; not that you’re speechless, per se, but moreso that there is simply so much going through your head at once that you can’t seem to settle on anything to voice.

“Thank you,” you say again, sniffling as subtly as you can as you focus on evening your breaths and calming your heart. You feel something on your hand and look over to see Yoongi has placed his palm over your own, his face soft and comforting.

“It’s no problem.”

A different kind of ache, the sort that is tinged around the edges with bittersweet warmth, begins to make itself known amongst the turmoil in your abdomen, and in this moment you can’t quite decipher whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. What you do know, though, is that you’ve never been more thankful to have had the fortune of meeting these boys and having them make room in their hearts for you, even just a little, than you are right now.

O – O – O

You can’t believe that all the time you’ve spent here has gone so fast, and that currently there is no more than a week before your three month deadline is up and your contracted stay at this house is to come to an end.

If you’re being honest with yourself… you don’t want to go.

When you’d first come to this house, you’d expected that you would have a nice time, but also that you would be eager to move out by the end of the three month period. You had no way of knowing how well you’d fall into routine here, how attached you would become not only to the residents but to the home, the place and the feeling it offers and the way it allows you to feel happier than you have in years.

You know that you have to leave, they’d only agreed to house you for the three months after all, and you also know that they seem to have realised your time here is coming to an end as well. You’ve caught them talking amongst themselves a few times, not quite whispering but definitely conversing about something that halts as soon as they catch wind of you anywhere nearby. You get the sense that they’re unsure how to approach the topic, and you understand since it’s a bit tough for you yourself. You decide to bite the bullet and do it for them, though.

You ask them to meet you in the living area, a week before you leave, to talk. You wanted to just… officially thank them, you suppose. They’ve done a lot for you, in the time you’ve been here, whether they realise it or not. They’ve helped you settle, they’ve shown you that there really is more to life outside the misery your relatives tended to create, and they’ve ensured every second you’ve been with them that you have felt welcomed, and included.

Truthfully, it means more to you than you know how to put into words.

Which is why it’s especially difficult for you to accept that you have to leave.

The expressions on their faces as they gather are a mixture between curious and somewhat apprehensive, with Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok bordering on nervous. You wonder why before realising they might not know why you called them here.

“Hey, thanks for gathering,” you say, attempting to keep it light and ensure the smile stays on your face. Of course, they all return is as they take seats across the room, some on the couch and others on the coffee table or the floor. Taehyung’s head tilts, tail curling lightly behind him.

“Um, I just wanted to say something to you—to all of you, while I could. I didn’t think I’d be able to catch everyone in the one room any time but on the weekend,” you muse, smile widening at the round of light laughter your joke elicits. You shift, taking a breath and grounding yourself through the motion of meeting their gazes, one by one.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you begin, voice softer than intended but not so soft that you’re worried their senses won’t pick it up. “Because when I moved here it was to get away, and start anew, and you guys… really gave me that. You’ve made these three months the best and happiest months I’ve had in a long time. I’m so thankful that you let me in, and welcomed me into your home and even into your lives. I don’t think I can word this the way I want to but… really. Thank you, so much. I know I have to leave in a week, but—”

“Oh!”

You halt mid-spiel, wide eyes moving to Taehyung as he suddenly sits up, holding his hands out. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to us about—we actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

Freezing, you simply blink, mind coming up blank as to what they could possibly want to talk to you about. Namjoon clears his throat when no one else follows up after Taehyung, averting his eyes before he gathers himself and meeting your confused look. “Well, you probably noticed we’ve been talking amongst ourselves a lot lately—I mean, I know you’ve noticed because you’ve walked in on us a few times, and we’re not very good at being subtle, but—”

“We want to know if you’d like to stay here—permanently.” Taehyung cuts his friend off before he can finish, apparently no longer able to hold the question at bay. There is an expression of pure, unguarded sincerity on his face, excitement lighting in his eyes. “We all talked it out and found that we want you to stay—all of us.”

“You fit,” Yoongi says suddenly, voice still soft but loud enough for you to catch easily. He offers you a gentle smile when you look his way. “We know that if you left, the house wouldn’t be the same after… it would be missing something. You haven’t been here long, but you’re kind of already part of our family so… please don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Some of the others are pinning Yoongi with a surprised look that you suspect is not directed at what he said, but rather the fact that he said it. You’re too busy biting your lip and trying not to cry like a baby to notice all that much.

“Is that really okay?” you ask, déjà vu washing over you as you think to yourself that again, this sounds too good to be true. “Do you guys really want me to stay?”

Immediately, there is a mixture of nods and loud ‘Yes!’s and ‘Of course!’. You really can’t hold it back, you find, because the sudden flood of warmth and affection washing over your insides is more than you know how to handle. You sniff, unable to reach the tears fast enough to prevent their fall down your face.

“Will you stay?” Yoongi asks, head tilted. Regrettably, his tenderness makes more tears fall.

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping your face furiously, “Yeah, I will. Thank you.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need before your new family is tackling you one by one, replacing your sobs with laughter and making sure you know that from now on, you don’t have to cry alone, you don’t have to be sad alone. They’re here for you.

And it feels so, so nice.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and how it made u feel, and let me know u enjoyed it by liking and reblogging! feel free to even just send me an ask screaming! thank u! i love u !

2K notes · View notes

geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 4 years

Text

A Melody (Ch 3/?)

The fact that this chapter was successfully completed is due solely to @stinastar who reminded me that compliments are a thing and I was making things way more difficult than they needed to be. Thanks darling, you’re the best <3

“A Melody” is the sequel to this one-shot, you should read it first.

Previous chapter

Summary: After saving Eskel from certain death, Jaskier travels alongside the witcher to Kaer Morhen.

Warning: nightmare aftermath, memories of poison and torture, and things get kinda spicy this chapter; future instances of canon typical violence and sexual situations

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

Eskel didn’t realize immediately he was shaking as he listened to his surroundings, it wasn’t until he determined there was no movement nearby that he realized his sword was unsteady in his hand. He slowly sheathed the blade and sat back down on his bed roll, heart pounding, feeling dizzy.

It had been a nightmare.

Flashbacks, really.

He was feeling sluggish, confused. His hands and feet were becoming numbing, his movements becoming more difficult with every passing step when suddenly, he was surrounded.

Normally, he would have noticed the ambush well ahead of time, been able to disappear or even fight them off, but his body wasn’t cooperating. Poison.

As men surrounded him, he felt his stomach drop.

Everything had been blurry after that. The only other clear memory he had was the pain he felt from his naked knees hitting the ground as he collapsed, the bonds around his wrists keeping him upright even as his body sagged.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, unable to move, strung up for the disgusting pleasures of the twisted village, before Jaskier had freed him.

Jaskier.

Eskel looked over to the sleeping bard, not sure how he hadn’t registered the man’s presence.

Unwilling to dull his senses with sleep again, fearing another nightmare, Eskel rested on his knees on his bed roll, attempting to settle into a light meditative state. After a distressing amount of time, Eskel found his mind wouldn’t calm enough to meditate.

Looking around the campsite, he noticed a tree just at the edge of the clearing with low, strong branches, and he decided that working his body might help his mind rest.

Jaskier woke slowly, rolling on his back and stretching, trying to relieve some of the tension he always got in his lower back after sleeping outside for a while. He sat, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, finally looking over to Eskel’s empty bedroll.

Frowning, Jaskier quickly looked around the campsite, noting the witchers belongings all where he had left them the night before. Just as he opened his mouth to call out for Eskel, he finally noticed the witcher.

Doing pull ups.

On a tree limb.

Shirtless.

Jaskier couldn’t look away, the witcher’s muscular torso damp with sweat and his arms flexing. When Eskel finally released the branch and dropped to the ground, landing in a low crouch, Jaskier was still sitting on his bedroll, open mouthed.

Eskel looked at Jaskier, sitting dumbstruck, and raised an eyebrow, “Everything alright?”

Jaskier let out an embarrassing squeak, his cheeks turning red, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Eskel slowly approached Jaskier, towering over the bard with smile on his face, “If you say so. Ready to get a move on?” Jaskier nodded and moved to stand.

They were quiet as they packed their things and got dressed for the day. Jaskier grabbed his lute and slung it over his shoulder, “Alright, I’m ready when you are.” Eskel nodded at the bard and grabbed Scorpion’s reigns, leading the two toward the road.

Travelling was slower today, with Eskel tired and Jaskier distracted.

Jaskier had been uncharacteristically quiet, occasionally strumming his lute or playing a short tune, but his mind was occupied elsewise. He had spent nearly his entire adult life hung up on a witcher, and he finally meets another witcher, and bam! Now he’s hung up on two.

And maybe it wasn’t quite the same, Jaskier knew he was in love with Geralt, had been for an embarrassingly long time, but he didn’t know Eskel nearly as well, certainly not well enough to be in love with him.

But the little smiles Eskel sent his way and his comments on Jaskier’s playing and his friendly banter and his body certainly had Jaskier wanting.

It was around midday when Eskel decided to walk next to Jaskier, claiming Scorpion would tire of his weight soon enough. Their banter carried on as before but now with the added bonus of Eskel gesticulating nearly as wildly as Jaskier and proving to be very tactile. He was quick to rest his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder or to clap him on the back when Jaskier made a particularly good joke.

And it was a lovely time.

But Jaskier didn’t know what to do with himself. The camaraderie was wonderful, they were getting along splendidly, but he didn’t have the slightest clue what to do with the attraction he was feeling to the witcher.

Ignoring his attraction to Geralt hadn’t failed him yet in the past decade, though. Jaskier mentally nodded to himself, pleased he’d come up with a solution to his problem.

A few miles down the road, Jaskier decided that maybe just ignoring his attraction to Eskel wouldn’t quite work. With Geralt it was easy, the man mostly kept himself at arm’s length, he wasn’t particularly talkative, and he didn’t often initiate contact.

Eskel was proving to be very different from Geralt.

Eskel was happy to chat back with Jaskier, sharing anecdotes and stories of contracts and all the things he’d experienced, telling Jaskier of all his favorite places to travel to. And he did all of this talking while keeping in near constant physical contact with the bard.

And every single touch was making Jaskier go mad.

Eskel wasn’t sure exactly what his plan was, but he wanted to be certain that he was reading Jaskier correctly.

That morning, Eskel had only noticed Jaskier when he picked up on the bard’s scent changing. His natural scent reminded Eskel of the ocean, light and fresh, but suddenly it had changed, deeper and almost spicy.

A change that Eskel had always associated with lust.

But Jaskier hadn’t done or said anything to indicate he was attracted to Eskel. The bard was continuing on, business as normal.

Maybe he just wasn’t interested in men.

Eskel looked over to the three travelers passing by the opposite direction and let out a hum, leaning over to Jaskier to whisper in his ear, “Can’t say I’m overly fond of humans at the moment but that one is awful tempting, don’t you think?” Eskel indicated the man walking slightly behind the other two, he was fairly tall and decently well built, most likely a farmer by the looks of him.

Jaskier stumbled.

Eskel reached out and put a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, “You alright?”

Nodding, Jaskier stuttered, “Yeah I’m fine. He… uhh… yeah, he was attractive. I suppose. Yeah.”

Eskel smiled.

When the pair stop for lunch, Eskel decided to push Jaskier a little farther. The more time he spent with the bard, the more interested in him Eskel felt.

He looked over at Jaskier, taking in the man’s appearance. He was wearing an incredibly detailed doublet, unbuttoned, and matching trousers. The set looked very nice and extremely expensive, clearly tailored to Jaskier’s measurements.

Eskel cleared his throat, “That doublet looks very good on you.”

Looking up at Eskel, surprise furrowing his brow, Jaskier responded “Ahhh, thank you? It’s the best work you can find in Novigrad. It’s out of season though.”

“Well,” Eskel started, “I don’t know much about what is and isn’t in season, but I do know that it fits you well, you really do look good in it.”

Jaskier blushed, ducking his head, “Thanks.”

The two finally found a good place to make camp for the night and Eskel started setting everything up while Jaskier walked down to the small stream to clean up from the last couple days of travel.

Through the rest of their travels, Jaskier had seemed more receptive to Eskel’s continued flirting, leaning into his touches, smiling more at his compliments, but the bard never reciprocated. Eskel decided he would try one last time, before the two laid down to sleep, and if the bard didn’t seem enthusiastic with the attention, he would drop the whole matter.

Jaskier came back to camp and sat upon a log, watching Eskel as he finished lighting the campfire. Eskel stood and swiftly walked to Jaskier, settling beside him on the log.

Jaskier had just opened his mouth to say something when Eskel leaned in close, his face close to the crook of Jaskier’s neck. Eskel inhaled and then said lowly, “You smell nice.”

“Ahh… thanks?” Jaskier squeaked out as Eskel pulled back slightly, meeting the bard’s eyes. Jaskier’s pupils were blown, the blue of his irises just a thin ring, and his gaze was fliting down to Eskel’s lips.

Eskel smiled, he had been right all along. He put his hand under Jaskier’s chin and leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

Jaskier froze under him and he quickly made to pull back, worried he had misread the situation after all, but Jaskier grabbed Eskel by the neck, pulling him further into the kiss. Eskel deepened the kiss, running his tongue across the seam of the other man’s lips, eliciting a moan from Jaskier.

Not pausing the kiss, Jaskier moved to straddle Eskel, settling on his lap. Eskel set his hands on Jaskier’s hips, drawing the man even closer, startling another moan from the bard.

Jaskier let out a gasp when he felt Eskel’s erection grind into his own, rocking his hips down to get more friction. Eskel slid Jaskier’s doublet off of his shoulders and then traced his hands down Jaskier’s chest slowly, finally gripping his waist.

Jaskier broke the kiss, gasping for air, still grinding their hips together. Eskel continued kissing down Jaskier’s neck, making sure to nip at the spot just behind the bard’s ear, making him whimper. Jaskier let out a breathy moan and moved his hands into Eskel’s hair just as he felt the witcher freeze below him.

“Jask,” Eskel whispered calmly, “when I say, I need you to your right as quickly as possible, okay?”

Jaskier’s eyes met Eskel’s and the bard nodded.

“Now!”

Jaskier launched himself out of Eskel’s lap just as Eskel threw himself forward, grabbing his silver sword and clashing with the creature in front of him.

Where in the hell did a katakan come from?

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

Next Chapter

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it (and it was worth the wait), this chapter gave me a fair bit of trouble. At one point it contained the sentence “Eskel had spent the day with Jaskier not his mind on his nightmares and that was good.” so I think it’s a miracle I ever finished it.

Tag list: @fandommagpie @caffeinatedcorvids @elliestormfound @birds-of-forgiveness @bastardofmothman @jaciespoonlovesdrwho @tookarma @geraskier-trashh @justalittletomfoolery @batfam16 (idk why this tag won’t work, im sorry), and @jaskierswolf (idk if you’re interested in this but this is my current project so if you like it im happy to add you to the tag list :D)

94 notes · View notes

givemestories-givemelife · 4 years

Text

Blueberries, Lavender & Hot Matcha Tea (Part 2)

A SasuHina ficlet

PART 1| Part 2

AN: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THOSE WHO COMMENTED, OR RE-BLOGGED, OR LIKED THE FIRST PART TO THIS FIC. It truly means more than I can say. Helped a lot with motivation and it’s super cool to know that people are reading the things I write. I hope the follow up chapter doesn’t disappoint <3

Summary: Hinata has a run in with a familiar face.

Warnings: Brief mentions of grief and anxiety (because Hinata’s a nervous butterfly) but nothing remotely heavy. Also there’s alcohol consumption.

Word count: 6167

__________________________

Lavender

Hinata knows that she needs to start putting herself out there. She can’t stay holed up comfortably in her room while years of her life pass on by, listening to cigarettes after sex under the safe warmth of her white fluffy blanket that still smells like her late mothers perfume, and sniffing essential oils like they’re some kind of soft-core drug to distract her spiralling thoughts from every embarrassingly mortifying predicament she’s ever found herself in.

She’s been trying really hard not to think about spilling her extra hot matcha latte all over this potentially handsome stranger a few days ago. She thinks - potentially - because she did not have the courage to look at the man's face after maiming him and probably ruining his expensive suit!

Hinata’s sure she must have ruined his entire morning, which must have ruined his whole day, and now he probably hates her. Oh goodness, Hinata strongly dislikes the thought of people out there in this world walking around hating her.

Wow, these thoughts are entirely useless, she really needs to stop her brain from going down these awful paths.

Today Hinata has decided to try really hard not to wallow in the comfort of all her numbing guilty pleasures.

So, when Sakura Haruno, the loud and outgoing girl with pretty pink hair, who always smells like strawberries and vanilla from her photography course asked if she wanted to hangout and work on their portfolio’s after class; Hinata was thankful for the distraction.

They had spent that afternoon drinking green tea at the kitchen table in Sakura’s little homey apartment, showing each other their favourite pieces and sharing feedback.

“You have to include this one, it’s so cute” Sakura gushes, pointing at a print of children finger painting; a mischievous little boy is smearing bold red paint all over the face of a girl whose expression is twisted in pure terror.

“You have a real talent for capturing the essence of people.” She continues in a dreamy tone, “it’s like you’re able to capture the moment they’re most alive, even if it’s just the little moments, y’know?”

Hinata blushes at the complement, “th-thank you Sakura.”

“It's kind of ironic that people are your main muse considering how afraid of them you are.” She teases.

“I’m not sca-AhyH!”

Of course, that’s the moment a woman with a giant blond ponytail barges through the door brandishing a bouquet of peonies making Hinata squeal. “Sakura I swear to god if you ate the last of the ice-cream again, I’m gonna- Oh! hello there.” The crazy flower lady stops mid-threat noticing a stranger in her apartment.

“Ino this is Hinata from class, Hinata this is my roommate Ino.” Sakura introduces, failing to constrain her laughter.

Ino’s demeanor does a 180 as she gently rests the flowers on her lacquered kitchen counter and approaches Hinata in a trance like state. “Your hair is so long and gorgeous, it totally reminds me of the violets we have at the flower shop -- you have to let me braid it.” She breathes and Hinata’s eyes are as wide as the sky outside.

“Ino, tone it down you’re going to scare her.” Sakura chides, rolling her eyes, not at all surprised by her roommate's antics. “Do you always have to act like such a spazz?”

“I am but a simple girl who is a slave to all things beautiful.” Ino proudly counters running her fingers through blue strands and Hinata mentally notes that she smells like a garden.

Sakura’s phone vibrates on the kitchen table, “it’s Naruto,” she says glancing at the screen. “Wondering when we’ll be coming over.”

“I don’t know, an hour or two? Tell him we’re bringing Hinata!” Ino adds excitedly and starts to braid blue hair without permission. “You should come out tonight with Sakura and I, meet the rest of the gang.”

“Oh.” In high school Hinata was never able to make friends with girls, and spent most of her time in the photography club’s black room developing pictures. Her introverted nature made it difficult to connect with people, but in this moment, the prospect of meeting Sakura’s friends, and the inclusive enthusiasm from these girls is making Hinata a little emotional. “I-I don’t know.”

“Hinata, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I think it could be good for you,” Sakura encourages.

“Carpe diem bitch,” is Ino’s convincing addition.

Hinata giggles, absent mindedly sniffing her wrist searching for the comforting sweet scent of the fragrance she’s wearing today, “yeah, okay.”

Ino makes a pleased sound and saunters over to a kitchen drawer to snatch a pair of scissors and clips the head off of one the peonies, then ties it into the base of Hinata’s braid. “You really have no idea how cute you are Hinata,” she coos observing her work in admiration and Hinata feels warm all over.

Hinata likes the rapport between Ino and Sakura, there’s something about their friendship that she finds inspiring.

When they split what’s left of the chocolate ice-cream and start getting ready for a night out, Hinata can’t help pulling out her camera and snapping shots of Ino with her shades of purple and Sakura’s vibes in red. Hinata feels outshined in her usual high waisted mom jean and oversized grey patterned sweater.

But that’s okay, she still feels like one of the girls.

~~~

Ino had made a strong case for wanting to get her steps in for the day, (since her fitbit said she had only reached 8243 so far) convincing the girls to walk to Naruto’s apartment instead of taking the bus. On their stroll Sakura and Ino began giving Hinata character profiles of everyone she was going to meet and Hinata found them to be quite amusing.

Ino playfully starts with, “Shikamaru’s like, my best bro. I’ve known him forever, smartest guy I know but a total stoner and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything.

“Choji gives the best hugs and he loves giving them, so if he looks like he’s going in for one - just let it happen - you’ll hurt his feelings if you don’t.”

“Naruto and Kiba are basically the same person and are the biggest loudest dorks on the planet,” Sakura chimes in, “but they’re also super friendly and kinda funny if you can get over their lack of brain cells.”

“Then there’s Sasuke,” Ino says, and hearing that name strikes a familiar chord with Hinata, triggering flashes of fond memories. “He’s really hot, but kind of a dick,” Ino hugs herself smiling at a distant memory, “basically, we all know each other from going to the same high school -”

“Ino and I had the hugest rivalry back then because we both wanted him.”

“What happened?” Hinata really wanted to ask if they were talking about Sasuke Uchiha, but didn’t want to interrupt the momentum of their story.

“We were so stupid causing all sorts of drama in our little social circle nearly tearing it apart, and Sasuke wasn’t having any of it, one day he told us to grow the fuck up and to leave him alone.” That did kind of sound like something Sasuke would say, but that would just be too big of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?

“We both cried.” Sakura snickers sheepishly.

“Eventually we finally realized that friendships should be forever-”

“And boyfriends are whatever.” Both girls enthusiastically finish the rehearsed line making silly faces at each other.

Hinata giggles at that, whishing she had taken a picture, “awe, that’s so cute.”

“And now he’s one of our good friends, but I just want to warn you that he can be cold and he can be mean and if he says something dickish, please don’t take it personally.”

Hinata hums, only half listening to Ino. Was it possible that when Hinata arrives at this apartment she was going to be face to face with the childhood friend she hasn’t seen in over a decade?

Guess she’ll just have to wait and see.

~~~

When Hinata enters the apartment, her senses are immediately overstimulated; it smells salty like ramen and sour with beer which clashes with how clean and pristine the space actually is. It’s decorated with blacks, whites and a few splashes of colors, but overall has a very minimalist feel.

Hinata barely has time to kick her shoes off before she’s surrounded by strangers, and can’t stop the heat from suffusing her face from the disorienting barrage of unwanted attention.

“Hey bitches!” Ino yells at the group, “we’re here! We know you missed us!”

“This is the beautiful Hinata,” Sakura adds, and Hinata really wants to hide under a rock somewhere. “Be nice okay, she’s really shy.”

“Hey I’m Naruto.” A blond man appears beaming at her, outstretching his hand. “I have never seen eyes that look like your eyes before!”

“Oh.” Hinata went to shake his hand but was interrupted by another hand grabbing hers and kissing it, which is so uncalled for.

“And I’m Kiba, don’t listen to that guy, he’s a complete moron.” He says with a wolfish grin and Hinata has no idea what’s going on anymore.

When she tries to turn away, she’s met with the kind face of a stout man in a green Zelda t-shirt with his arms wide open for an inviting hug. She decides to accept her fate by awkwardly stepping forward wearing a confused pout, and lets the arms of a stranger wrap around her in what is surprisingly one of the best hugs she has ever received. He smells nice, Hinata thinks. Savoury and warm like a thanksgiving dinner. For a moment she actually feels safe, like a veil has been thrown over the sudden wave of chaos, giving her a quiet moment for her heartbeat to settle, “I’m Choji, it’s really nice to meet you Hinata, try not to worry so much, everyone here is harmless, I promise.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on her back.

When Choji pulls away, he sends her one last reassuring smile before padding off towards the ponytailed man currently dying of laughter, and joining him on a leather couch. Choji grabs a handful of potato chips from a bowl on the marble coffee table and starts earnestly snacking.

Snacks! Snacks sound really nice right now! Tasting tasty things can sometimes be a good distraction when Hinata is overwhelmed. She self-consciously shuffles forward towards the provisions, drawn towards the colorful array of fresh fruits, grabbing a small handful of blueberries and popping one of them in her mouth. She tries to ignore the pair legs in her periphery... she needs a moment before making another introduction.

Hinata jumps feeling a presence directly behind her, she twirls around to see Naruto pulling back appearing extremely guilty.

What was he doing? Was he pointing at her hair?

“Hehehe, sorry about that,” he says, smiling sheepishly, and scratches the back of his head, “I was just pointing out to my friend here, how beautiful your hair is, what a wonderful shade of blue,” he made a weird face directed at someone over her head, “are you enjoying those, blueberries?”

Okay.

Hinata hears more laughter coming from ponytail boy on the couch.

Weird.

Hinata turns to see who Naruto is looking at and-

Oh.

Sasuke?

Sasuke was here.

It was her Sasuke!

She instantly looks away, eyes wide, staring down at the hardwood floors.

Well, not her Sasuke. But an older version of the one she knew as a child. The one she met that one summer years ago and spent nearly every day with him before her mother fell ill and her family moved away in the wake of tragedy.

And he was... Glaring at her? No, he was glaring at Naruto? He kind of looked like he recognized her, but why would he be glaring?

“This is fucking stupid,” Sasuke seethes and takes off towards the kitchen, where Kiba and Ino are talking and drinking.

Ouch.

Sakura approaches Hinata with a glass in hand, Hinata stares at the ice clinking as she offers it, “vodka soda, with lime?”

Well, one drink couldn’t hurt, Hinata thinks.

She glances over at a brooding Sasuke leaning on the kitchen island sipping his beer.

She might need it.

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later and Hinata feels the dread sinking deep into the pit of her stomach. She desperately wishes she could conjure up some courage, approach Sasuke, and see how he’s been after all these years, but he still hasn’t left from his spot in the kitchen.

She’s starting to believe that maybe he doesn’t recognize her, which is a rather sad thought.

Hinata also appears to be at the butt end of some sort of mean inside joke that she doesn’t understand, ponytail bo- Shikamaru and Naruto joined Sasuke in the kitchen and kept making not-so-subtle glances her way -- but whatever -- she’s a big girl, she’s not going to cry about it even if she wants to.

Currently she’s sitting on the puffy leather couch between Choji and Sakura, Sakura is sharing the memes she’s saved onto her phone this month with Ino and Kiba while Hinata stares down at the melting ice in her drink and Choji attempts to calm her with platitudes.

Hinata doesn’t regret coming tonight despite feeling like the biggest fool in existence.

After all, tonight she actually has the opportunity to reconnect with someone she still thinks about, even after all these years.

She has always wondered what had happened to that bratty boy she met that one summer.

The sinking feeling grows deeper and Hinata feels her heart beating in the drums of her ears.

She takes one last tentative sip before downing the rest of her drink and summons every ounce of bravery she didn’t know she had to strengthen her resolve.

She stands from the couch with shaky determination ignoring Choji’s concerned inquiry, then forces one foot in front of the other strait towards the guiding bright lights of the kitchen.

The easy conversation awkwardly dies down when she arrives beside Naruto and Sasuke. She feels both their gazes land on her, and Hinata spots an ugly orange magnet on the stainless-steel fridge Sasuke is leaning on that has the phrase - believe it! - stamped on it and chooses to direct most of her focus on the positive affirmation.

“Uh, hey Hinata, you doing okay?” Naruto asks, slightly taken aback. Hinata nods still focusing on the magnet, face heating up as the beginning of a buzz tingles in the corners of her mind. “Can I get you another drink?”

She looks down at the empty glass she grips and nods again, muttering a quiet thank you, and handing it over. He takes it and moves further down the island to chat with Shikamaru and starts making her another.

“Hi Sasuke,” she forces passed her chapped lips.

“Hello Hinata.” Sasuke says, sounding about as uncomfortable as she feels and she looks up, hopeful, to meet his burning gaze and quickly looks back at that stupid orange magnet.

“So, you do remember me?” She asks, confused as to why he’s been ignoring her since her arrival.

“I remember how two days ago you ran into me quite rudely, burning me with tea.”

Hinata’s brain short-circuits.

“Wait what!?-”

No! No no no no no. Impossible. No.

“-That- that was you? oh my god, oh no! I am so sorry about that, I really wasn’t looking where I was going, I-I can’t believe this, I swear you just came out of nowhere though, oh my goodness, I can’t believe that was-”

“Please just stop before you give yourself an aneurysm.” Sasuke lifts his hands in a placating manner and Hinata snaps her mouth shut. “So that’s not how you seem to know me?” He asks, further rankling as the conversation drags on.

“So you don’t remember me.” She says mostly to herself, completely humiliated by this entire exchange, every time she opens her mouth it’s like falling down a flight of stairs -- Hinata seriously wishes she would reach the bottom already.

“Remember you from... where?”

“I-I mean I guess it’s not that surprising, we were only nine or ten at the time and it-it was only one summer... over a decade ago... You-you never really did call me by my name either.” Hinata says focusing on her twiddling fingers, her voice barely above a whisper, a pensive smile framing her lips at the memory.

There’s a long drawn out silence before Sasuke slowly asks, “...Tomato face?”

Hinata feels her face burn red at the old moniker, nodding. “Yeah...”

“Hyuuga, Hinata. Shit. Yeah. I do remember.”

The culminating tension finally releases from the moment and Hinata smiles at the black and white tiles breathing just a little bit easier.

He remembers.

“Wait... Did I hear you call her a tomato?” Naruto returns with a mildly amused Shikamaru in tow, handing Hinata her drink, and looks between the pair completely intrigued.

~~~

It didn’t take long for the word to spread that Hinata and Sasuke were childhood friends and everyone congregated into the small-ish kitchen asking curious questions.

It also didn’t take long for everyone to lose interest when Naruto nudged Hinata and started grilling her for embarrassing details of what a prepubescent Sasuke was like, earning him a surly glare. Hinata shyly shrugged saying, “I-I don’t really remember, it was a long time ago.”

Safe to say -- Naruto didn’t buy it, but surprisingly didn’t press further, and the group dispersed, leaving them to reacquaint.

The conversation between them after that was unfortunately still quite awkward, thankfully, Hinata wasn’t entirely to blame.

They exchanged small talk, Hinata mentions that she actually works at Heaven’s Little Corner and was just coming off her shift early when she ran into him the other day, and Sasuke talks about going to school and getting a Bachelor's degree in Business and how he focused on E-commerce after graduation. Overall, their -- re-connecting -- consisted of the typical pleasantries involved in catching up, and Hinata couldn’t distinguish if she was disappointed or relieved when their conversation came to a lull and she couldn’t think of anymore pointless verbiage to drag it along.

What she really wanted was to reminisce over hot days on the beach, collecting tiny crabs to occupy the sandcastles they built, and how Hinata had found sand in her hair days after the event. She wanted to talk about ice-cream and food fights and sneaking out to gaze at the stars in the night sky way past their bedtime, and how they pondered if aliens exist.

“I think the universe is too big for there not to be something out there somewhere.”

She remembers Sasuke saying, thoughtfully looking up.

“I-I think you’re an alien.”

She said back, earning her an indignant huff.

“Whatever tomato face.”

She wanted to talk about how simple everything was when they were kids, how she misses that naivety and how scary the world had revealed itself to be over the years.

Hinata was never good at making friends, even as a child, but she could still look back and she knew that Sasuke was one. He had been the last mark on her childhood that had made it a good one, the last moments she had to truly be a kid before she lost her mother, the truest love she had ever felt, forcing her to grow up.

Instead silence overtakes the kitchen and they both stare at their drinks unsure of what to say.

Sasuke isn’t how she remembers him at all. Yeah, he has the same face, just matured, and the same haughtiness, but the spark for life that had once inspired her seemed to be gone.

Which is an unfair thought to have, she admits, but she can’t stop herself from thinking it.

“Well I think it’s time to go on an adventure,” Naruto awkwardly offers.

“An adventure?” Hinata repeats, eyes growing wide.

“Naruto’s idea of an adventure is leaving the house and walking around the block.” Sasuke says rolling his eyes.

“Hey anything can be an adventure if you let it!”

~~~

It smells like damp grass and Hinata nearly jumps out of her skin as Naruto’s roar of triumph echo's off the surrounding buildings, catching the glow in the dark frisbee Kiba threw him. Sakura and Ino had joined them in their late-night excursion and Hinata can’t suppress the giddy giggles from watching them stumble about attempting athleticism when they are clearly four or five drinks deep.

She snaps a few photos and decides that she likes Naruto’s philosophy of approaching even the mundane aspects of life as an adventure.

This whole day certainly has felt like one.

Hinata puts her camera away, feels the chill in the October air, and pulls her scarf tighter. She casts a glance over at the park bench where Shikamaru was smoking a joint to see that he’s now casually chatting about... string theory? -- to Choji, who continues to nod his head like he understands.

Her trailing gaze then lands on Sasuke and-

Hinata immediately looks back towards the glowing air bound frisbee.

He was watching her - he looked suspicious - Hinata doesn’t know of what.

“Hey Sakura,” Hinata tries to call out, voice wavering, “it’s getting late, I think I-I should start heading home.”

That seems to put a halt on the physical activity for a moment, she’s then hugged by every frisbee player.

“It was nice meeting you Hinata.”

“Come back any time.”

“Yes please! We need more girls in our group, Sakura and I are severely outnumbered.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you?” Sakura slurs slightly, pulling away from the tight embrace.

“I’ll be fine, thank you Sakura,” Hinata smiles at her newest friend and turns to leave but stops at the bench to wave goodbye at Choji and Shikamaru, earning her a warm smile and a lazy nod. She looks at Sasuke’s arms proudly crossed over his broad chest and says, “it was nice seeing you again Sasuke.” And makes her way down the busy street, casting one last glance behind her just in time to see Sakura jump on Ino piggyback style to catch the frisbee in an impressive display of drunken camaraderie.

She smiles wider to herself. Wow. Today was a good day. An Adventure! Even if seeing Sasuke again was really weird and awkward and not at all how she wished it could have gone, she still met a lot of new people – Sakura's friends are so nice! They made her feel right at home and didn’t make her feel too weird about being shy and -

“Hey, Hinata.”

Hinata startles, hearing the sound of her name accompanied by footsteps catching up and her breath hitches when she turns to see Sasuke slowing down next to her.

“S-Sasuke? What are you-”

“I’m going to walk you home,” he snorts like it’s obvious, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jacket, “it’s late.”

“Oh,” Hinata hugs herself, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious and maybe even a little nauseous as they walk in silence, their steps in sync.

She can feel the heat of his gaze on her and Hinata makes a point to stare at the crispy autumn leaves on the pavement – yeah – Hinata has no idea what to make of this.

“You know it finally makes sense now, why I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Hinata trips over nothing, “you what?”

Leaves. Look at the leaves. The beautiful burnt orange leaves. Just. Keep. Looking.

“At the coffee shop, there was something about you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Guess I thought you were familiar somehow.” Sasuke shrugs, with an air of nonchalance as they cross the street.

“Oh,” Hinata’s starting to feel warm, she doesn’t know if it’s from their quickening pace, the two drinks she’s had or how Sasuke is close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“It’s kind of crazy that we’d run into each other like this, after all these years.”

Hinata stops walking and Sasuke mirrors her. There’s something in his tone that catches Hinata off guard, something almost fond? Hinata looks back in the direction of his friends, they’re about five blocks away now.

Sasuke seemed... different than how he’s been all night -- more open somehow. Maybe he feels weird about their earlier interactions too, but didn’t feel comfortable acting this way in front of his friends? Sasuke’s always been a very private person, even as a child.

“Yeah it is,” Hinata bites her lip and throws him a timid fleeting smile, silently wishing she knew what was going through his mind.

“So, why did you come back to Konoha.”

“I-uh-” Hinata starts playing with the hem of her sweater and reminds herself it’s good to open up, “-wanted to figure out this life thing for myself – be independent - if my dad had his way, I’d never leave home or do anything that wasn’t part of his plan-” she tapers off, distracted by the approaching sound of music, a dumb smile spreads across her face when she sees an old skinny man on a sparkly bicycle riding past them on the road blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ from an oversized speaker he probably installed himself -- he seemed so – in the moment, like all that existed was him and the music filling the streets that he owned – Hinata silently mourns the missed opportunity of capturing that moment forever in a-

“You were saying,” Sasuke pokes her shoulder harder than necessary, bursting her from her reverie, and starts leading her down concrete stairs away from the bustling main road of the city, towards the waterfront.

“Right,” Hinata continues feeling energized from the random encounter and embarrassed from being caught drifting away in a daydream when they were in the middle of a conversation, “it was – uh - hard to leave my sister, but she encouraged me to go, that I should at least attempt to do the dream chasing thing.” Hinata pats her shoulder bag in reference to her camera. “I saved up some money and here I am, making it up as I go.”

“Hm, you always were snapping pictures everywhere you went.”

Their steps slow to a stop once they reach the cold metal railing where tourists gather during the day overlooking the docks, but it’s mostly quiet at this time of night.

It smells cold from the breeze and salty from the ocean. The lampposts must need changing because the only light is from the half-moon in the cloudless sky, casting them in dark shades of blue.

Hinata takes a deep breath observing the skyline and the colorful lights reflecting in the undulating ocean waves, then asks the question that’s been bothering her since their seemingly kismet reunion. “What do you remember after all this time?”

“I remember...” He trails off, Hinata doesn’t miss the sly edge in his tone. “That I had told you I’d marry you one day,” his voice is deep, almost gravely when he takes a slow playful step closer and Hinata swears her heart skips several beats noticing their breaths mixing in the cold air between them. “And that... you were technically my first kiss.” He says with a sarcastic snort, stepping back, and gesticulates somewhere behind them. “You can’t tell them about it though. Especially Naruto, the idiot would never let me live it down.”

Hinata blushes at the memory and attempts to mask her frown with an indignant pout, trying not to take the jeer personally.

Sasuke always did like to mess with her.

“You were my only kiss.” Hinata then whispers without thinking and regrets it. She immediately hates the implications -- like she’s some inexperienced-love-sick-twenty-something, who’s never gotten over her childhood crush.

Hinata sighs, briefly drowning in her own self-deprecating thoughts, gripping at the railing, eyes a passing ship, and pretends she can’t feel him studying her, surprised by the admission.

“What do you remember?” He asks back, finally breaking the silence.

She bites her lip, thinking, a rush of memories flashing one by one, settling on their goodbye -- her sobbing because she had to move away to a new city thousands of miles away that had special doctors who could treat her mother, how Sasuke was speechless and could only squeeze her tight in the first and only hug they had ever shared.

She remembers how he always told her she should stand up for herself, even against him, and she remembers how sometimes when she was around, he’d bite his tongue, holding back petulant sneers.

There’s a small quirk to her lips when she softly says, “Looking back, I-I always thought that we brought out the best in each other.”

There’s another long silence and Hinata once again feels the heavy weight of his gaze examining her, he reaches out and she stiffens when he gently grips the base of her braid touching the bright pink flower there.

“Did Ino do this?” He quietly asks, and there something hidden in his voice that shifts the mood of their conversation, and he’s close again, close enough for their visible breaths to once again mix, his fingers trail down towards the tail end of her braid.

“Uh huh.” Hinata breathes, watching his fingers play with the tip of her strands.

“Why can’t you…” he starts to ask, unsure, but curious, “never mind.” He let’s go of the braid, huffing lightly in frustration and leans on the railing, looking out towards the roaring waves.

Hinata’s stunned by his sudden apprehension. "Why can’t I what?”

“I said never mind.”

“But… I- I want to know.”

“Why can’t you look at me?”

“Oh.”

Sasuke sighs, “you don’t have to answer.”

Hinata bites her lip hard, internally wincing. “I-it’s not just you it’s most people really.” She starts, racking her brain for the right words “- It’s -it’s embarrassing… Well everything is embarrassing but, I get anxious about nothing all the time? And looking at people. I don’t know. I get paranoid that they can hear my thoughts or something? Not that I’m thinking about anything weird, well sometimes I am… it’s easier when they’re not looking back at me... Anyways... I guess it’s just become a bad habit now…” she sighs and smiles bitterly at the mess that just flew out of her mouth. “So, to summarize, looking at people kind of sometimes really freaks me out?”

“I see,” Sasuke says, Hinata glances at his mouth, he’s smiling a little, it’s almost warm in an amused sort of way, which completely disarms her.

Hinata’s tongue feels dry, “uhm, do-do you ever feel anxious?”

“Never. I get annoyed or frustrated with people very easily though, which can be problematic, not that I care”

“I guess some things never change then.” Hinata teases gently.

Sasuke smirks, he seems ready to retort with a quip but retreats and opts for something entirely different, “are there things that help you with your anxiety?”

There’s something about the question that makes Hinata feel warm all over, she never really gets to talk about these kinds of things without it feeling like it would dampen the mood, but there’s surprisingly no judgement in his tone, he seems genuinely curious, which encourages her to open up some more, "I find different scents to be calming, so I wear whatever my current favorite essential oil is on my wrist every day and whenever I feel too overwhelmed,” Hinata begins to explain in a rush pulling her sleeve up to demonstrate and presents Sasuke her wrist, “I close my eyes, count down from ten and-” Hinata’s breath catches in her throat and her eyes fly open when Sasuke gently pulls her forward by the wrist and she feels the softness of his lips brush over her pulse, then draws in a slow breath to scent the fragrance she chose to wear that day, “...and... sniff.”

Oh goodness, is it getting hot out here? Because Hinata’s face feels like it’s about to burst into flames. Hinata debates pulling her arm back but is currently enraptured by the softest look she’s seen on the Uchiha’s face this evening.

This feels way too intimate, and Hinata thinks she likes it. Hinata thinks that maybe this is what’s been missing in her life. The feeling of being close to someone in more ways than just proximity. Is it possible she’s been physically and emotionally touch starved for years without realizing it?

That’s a thought that petrifies her. How sleeping on your basest human needs can become a habit, and you find yourself going through the trivial motions of existence, not bothering to search for more, for something that makes your heart sing, twist, and turn into itself the way that muscle pumping blood through her circulatory system at a quickening pace is doing right now.

“Lavender,” Sasuke murmurs against her wrist and his breath feels hot on her skin, Hinata struggles for breath when the sensation brings her back to the present moment and she realizes that she’s been staring directly into his darkened obsidian eyes, boring into hers and she finds herself unable to look away. A subtle look of achievement flashes through them when he softly asks, “you okay there?”

Is she dead? Is she imagining this? This whole situation with the soft touches coinciding with depressing epiphanies triggered by Sasuke smelling her suddenly seems completely absurd, and Hinata’s not sure she’ll be able to form a coherent sentence any time soon.

“I uh, uhm.” There’s definitely something wrong with Hinata’s voice when she attempts to speak.

“I think that...” Sasuke smoothly adjusts their hands to interlock their fingers and his hand feels so warm in hers, “you should go out with me.”

What is happening?

“No.”

Hinata kinda meant to say yes, but sure, no works too?

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hinata winces slightly. Gosh what is she even saying? Is this some sort of weird defense mechanism because she’s afraid of getting hurt?

Sasuke nods slowly, narrowing his eyes, “why not.”

Don’t you have to risk getting hurt to get anywhere in life that’s worth while?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Hn.” Sasuke breaks eye contact and lets their holding hands fall. Hinata reels at the loss of warmth. He turns away from her and crosses his arms over the railing and looks out towards the dark rhythmic waves of the ocean. Hinata worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she studies the man before her. The moonlight is hitting the sharp angles of his face just perfect, and Hinata’s in awe. He’s all grown up now, and by default that means Hinata is too. Yet, here they are, the oldest they’ve been, and still the youngest they will ever be.

Nostalgia floods through Hinata’s system, deciding to grab the moment instead of letting it pass. She’s not sure when she pulled the camera out of her bag, but the flash went off before she understood that she was taking a picture.

Sasuke jumps slightly at the flash and is pulled from his brooding thoughts, shooting her a puzzled glare.

“Sorry, that was kind of weird of me. I just – I just thought you-you looked erm... nice in the moonlight?”

A bewildered look flashes across Sasuke’s face before a small smile begins to form and he laughs! He actually, genuinely laughs while shaking his head in what appears to be disbelief.

The only thing Hinata can do is smile sheepishly distracted by how handsome he looks when he lets go of his composure, the light in his eyes makes him look younger, like the Sasuke she knew all those years ago.

Hinata wonders if any of his friends get to see him like this.

He looks down at the pavement, shoulders still shaking, smile still present and pinches the bridge of his nose while taking in a slow breath and on his exhale, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, unlocks it, hands it over and says, “give me your number.”

Hinata tentatively obliges, pulling open the add new contact page, filling in the blanks then handing it back. Sasuke starts typing something in his phone and asks. “Do you work Sunday?”

“Uhm, yes?”

Hinata’s phone buzzes, when retrieving it from her bag she sees a text from an unknown number.

>> I’m going to come by after your shift and I'm taking you out. Don’t even bother using your mouth to respond.

Hinata feels her fingers tingling and tries to open her mouth to speak, closes it, bites her lip to try and stifle her giggles and resists the urge to slap herself in the face for acting like a complete airhead.

She pushes her fears aside one more time tonight...

And takes the damn dive.

<< Okay <3

__________________________

AN2: Wow, okay. A month later and I have the second part to this little story. This is the first time that I’m posting something I didn’t just throw together in one sitting. I’ve also never posted anything that was longer than 1200 words and it’s unexpectedly a little nerve-wracking??? OKAY SO, I guess there’s going to be one last chapter and it’s going to be like 90% SasuHina interactions? And spoiler alert they’re finally going to make-out. I have this SasuHina headcannon where they’re both private people who generally keep to themselves -- so people think they’re a boring couple, but when they’re alone together it’s like they’re in their own little world, and that’s the dynamic I’m looking forward to exploring in the final part. I’m not sure when it’s going to be up since I have a bunch of other stuff I need to work on so it depends on how the inspo hits me, but I do have plenty of fun ideas!

#sasuhina #sasuhina oneshot #sasuhina fanfic #sasuhinafanfiction #hinata #sasuke #naruto #mystuff #Hinata hyuuga #hinata fanfic

58 notes · View notes

lukittymuffin · 5 years

Text

1-A guilty pleasure foods part 1 - ice cream:

Midoriya: deep fried vanilla ice cream smothered in chocolate and strawberry syrups, with exactly 3 maraschino cherries on top.

normally he only splurges on this sweet treat in the throes of pre-exam studying or when one of his crushes do something particularly cute/heartwarming or dangerous/stupid.

he has a rule to limit eating in his room (he tends to get distracted by various quirk theories that float in his brain or studying/homework so food scraps/plates get left in his room more often than not) but whenever he gets his treat from an ice creamery he leaves at least 4 sticky notes in his favorite spots in his room to clean up his mess.

he also implemented a limit of 2 treats a month - obviously because of his strict diet regimen but also because he embarrassingly consumed half a dozen in one month alone after a particularly hot summer month that involved beach outings (a tanning Kiri in the sun? Todoroki building a sandcastle since he hadn't ever made one before then? Kaachan surfing? his poor gay heart had almost burst multiple times that day, and his subsequent dreams had him getting two treats alone in the following days)

Bakugo: two scoops of plain vanilla. no embellishments, no crazy flavor combinations.

he discovered this splurge by accident - with his explosive and haptic personality, the thought of something so simple had never crossed his mind until he was up at 3am after a grueling day that left his muscles sore and his brain more chaotic and anxious than normal. he had trouble sleeping, bright flashes bursting across his vision whenever he tried closing his eyes or even worse, thoughts of slime crawling across his skin or into his nose and throat or Deku screaming with the most pained/terrified expression he had ever seen as purple mist swallowed him whole. when he went down into the common area and opened the freezer, his brain was trying to pair the most polar opposite and complex flavors he could think of but it only made his already frazzled brain throb. when his bloodshot red eyes spied the vanilla, he grabbed it without a second thought and he subconsciously had grabbed a spoon and sat on a couch. when he took the first taste, the sheer simplicity of the flavor calmed his brain since he couldn't compartmentalize each flavor profile like he normally did. as he continued eating his brain quieted and he could feel his tension easing spoonful by spoonful.

now he only eats when he wore himself too thin, whether by training or by stress in general (Shitty Hair covered in bandages after that Hassaikai raid, Icy Hot with his sad and forlorn look whenever his shitty father tried calling him, Deku working himself to damn near exhaustion day in and out) but he also indulged when something really good happened as well to not make the splurge only due to negative things (seeing the entire class enjoying themselves at the Festival, movie nights that he enjoyed more than he'd EVER tell anyone in his stupid class).

Todoroki: green tea ice cream, with white chocolate praline crumbles and caramel syrup.

ice cream had never been a thing he grew up with - the lack of nutritional value and the sheer indulgence of it meant that it was no part of the Todoroki household. when Ochako invited him alongside Midoriya, Iida and Tsu soon after they all moved into the dorms he couldn't help but be a little wary of what the implications were; was moving into the dorms really that monumental an occasion to warrant such an indulgence? he had agreed, but had only chosen strawberry when they all arrived at the ice creamery. the long list of flavors had overwhelmed him almost the instant they had arrived, so his short circuited brain had went the safest route possible. the taste was unlike anything he had ever tasted, and he wanted to try more right then and there. it was only after Ochako and Iida had explained that eating every flavor at once wouldn't be the wisest of ideas, as well as Midoriya promising to bring him back later (Todoroki also didn't miss the sparkle and look in Ochako's eyes when he immediately accepted Midoriya's offer) that he settled for enjoying his strawberry ice cream.

he ended up trying each flavor of ice cream after a few weeks (some with Midoriya, some on his own and once even with Bakugo, Kirishima and Midoriya; Bakugo and Kirishima had heard that Todoroki hadn't had ice cream until the Strawberry Awakening and didn't believe the rumors - they quickly learned of the truth after Todoroki tried the mint chocolate chip and had nearly physically set himself aflame at the different flavors) and found he enjoyed toppings and syrups as well as discovering his fondness for green tea ice cream.

it took three separate occasions for his favorite to be solidified: after he and Bakugo completed their remedial course, the entire class had went out for ice cream (and the ice creamery had their hands full on that day); after a beach outing and he experienced sand castle building for the first time alongside Bakugo, Kirishima and Midoriya; finally, after the Festival (another full class outing, the ice creamery now used to Class 1-A flooding into their establishment with resigned enjoyment). he's sure his fondness for the ice cream is heavily influenced by the overwhelmingly positive events so, from that point on, he would indulge himself only in the company of his friends (his friends quickly figured that out and, after a hard day with his father or a tough day at school, would accompany him to the ice creamery - at times that would be the only time they would see a smile on his face or a little life in his eyes)

Kirishima: salted caramel with candied bacon bits and chocolate chips.

Kirishima had always loved ice cream; it was synonymous with good news as his parents had always taken them out whenever they got good news. as he grew up, the tradition had carried on - while he was in grade and in the beginning of middle school he treated himself to ice cream whenever he got a good grade on a test or passed a difficult gym class or group project. as middle school progressed and his thoughts turned more self-deprecating though, he ended up avoiding anything that closely resembled ice creameries as he was sure he did nothing good or manly enough to warrant a reward.

it wasn't until after the UA entrance exam, as he was traveling back home and he passed an ice cream shop, that he felt worthy enough to indulge. when he got accepted into UA, his whole family went out and he had never felt happier in years. after the Sports Festival, the Bakusquad went out (and if anyone asked if it was to try and call Bakugo's bruised ego, they all would deny it vehemently). when they all moved into the dorms, he and Bakugo went out and, while it was a quiet affair and Bakugo seemed withdrawn and forlorn, the quiet camaraderie stirred something in Kirishima that he didn't want to analyze too deeply or his face would be the same shade as his hair. soon after that he, Bakugo and Midoriya went along with Todoroki - how had he never had ice cream until they all moved into the dorms?? watching the three of them interact outside of school, all the laughs and giggles from Midoriya or brash words from Bakugo that held no ire or bite, and when Todoroki nearly started a fire after the first taste of mint chocolate ice cream stirred even more feelings in him that he, once again and with a feeling of deja vu, compartmentalized until later when his face wouldn't betray him.

this is what I think of instead of sleeping. also, why did this turn angsty?? oh well!! I'm sure there will be a part 2 (and more, these just kept flowing!!)

#my hero academia #bnha headcanons #todobakukirideku #my ot4 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #kirishima eijirou #lukittymuffin writes

30 notes · View notes

confidenceatitsfinest · 5 years

Text

The Fire Was Screaming Out Your Name (And I Watched You Burn) Ch. 5

Pairing: Jungkook/Jimin

Description: Mafia au

Jungkook was Jimin’s most trusted right-hand man. While Jungkook is dutiful and devoted towards Jimin, their relationship and past is slowly unveiled, but not without turmoil and conflict.

Author’s Note: About time I updated this fic, but yes hello it’s me again. I deeply apologize for the super long wait for those who of you who have been waiting. College and 2019 has just been a hot mess and I haven’t had the time or motivation to write for fun. Still, I hope this chapter is enjoyable despite the brevity!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Crossposted on AO3

Jungkook felt oddly sore when he woke up in Jimin’s plush bed (yet again) the next morning. He twisted around to stretch his back and rubbed at the tight knot along his shoulder blade. He looked over at the handsome face of a man he had come to be completely devoted to. Jungkook sighed softly, tempted to reach out and brush Jimin’s hair out of his eyes. His hand hovered, but he ultimately refrained from touching the older man.

Only a few moments later, Jimin shifted to lie on his side and his bleary eyes landed on a flustered Jungkook.

“Um, good morning hyung?”

“Jungkook, it’s still early. Get some more rest.”

Jimin opened his arms a little and Jungkook had to admit, snuggling against his hyung’s side was very tempting. Still, he wasn’t used to so much overt affection from the mafia leader. Usually, it’d be little bits and pieces of fondness that Jungkook ate up. He couldn’t help the slight skepticism that he felt.

“Jungkook.” With one call of his name, all hesitation left his head and he gently laid back down, head resting on Jimin’s arm.

It was much too comfortable in bed with Jimin, warm and cozy as if there was nothing in the world they had to worry about. Jungkook found it easy to drift off into a dreamland where, embarrassingly to admit, he and Jimin lived a normal life together. Domestic. He never thought having a domestic lifestyle would be his dream, but right now, the thought of doing normal things with his hyung without the constant worry of death and injury made his heart ache with longing.

It was another hour before Jungkook woke up naturally. He felt colder than when he fell asleep and realized Jimin was no longer surrounding him with his heat. People often described Jimin as cold, calculating, and relentless. Jungkook begged to differ. To him, Jimin was his safe place, the only place where he found warmth and comfort. He had never told his hyung this, but with the way Jungkook was wrapped around the older all night, he was sure Jimin knew.

Jungkook rubbed his eyes to get rid of the grogginess and got up to pull on some pants. He quickly splashed some water on his face in the bathroom until he felt awake and alert enough to kill on demand. That was Jimin’s standard after all. Every single one of Park Jimin’s subordinates were trained to be lethal the moment they were needed. Though many other gangs hated Jimin, they all silently respected him for his leadership and the skill level of his underlings.

He headed to the dining room where he assumed Jimin was already finishing up his breakfast. He opened the door and at the head of the table was his precious hyung, looking as dominant and regal as ever.

Jungkook dipped his head, “Good morning, hyung.”

“Take a seat, Jungkook. I had Seokjin prepare breakfast for you already. We have much to do today so finish quickly.”

Jungkook nodded and quickly sat down to eat, his eyes glancing curiously at Jimin who remained leaning back in his chair.

“Yoongi informed me that the Jeon’s are indeed expanding at a rapid pace. Though they are not a threat to me nor the Min’s, I wouldn’t let our guard down so easily. If they continue to grow this quickly, we will need to intervene. I’m still uncertain of whether or not they intend to form an alliance with us or attempt a coup on our authority.”

The mention of the Jeon’s still made Jungkook’s stomach stir uncomfortably. Something about them made his skin crawl with anxiety and it wasn’t just because of his potential blood relation to them. He pushed the uneasiness down because in order to protect Jimin and fulfill his orders, he had to be focused and unaffected. It wouldn’t matter if the Jeon’s turned out to be his biological family. He was loyal to Jimin only. Jimin was the one that had always cared for him when nobody wanted to even spare a glance at him, no one else.

“Would you like me to do some reconnaissance? I could gather some information about their arsenal as of now.”

“As expected from my best boy, you know exactly what I want.” Jimin swirled the blood red wine in his glass and took a long sip, maintaining eye contact with Jungkook the whole time.

Jungkook blushed at the subtle compliment, but he beamed inside. He still relished in the fact that he was Jimin’s favorite and the trust Jimin had in his skills.

“I’ll head out right away after I’m finished, hyung.”

“I want you to come back in three days time. We will have another dinner party to attend and I need you with me. We’re meeting with the Kim’s along with Yoongi.”

“Of course. I will be back by then.”

“Make me proud, Jungkook.”

The younger nodded. Completing Jimin’s assignment wasn’t a matter of maybe. It was a must. There was no ambiguity. He would make Jimin proud, or he would die trying. Otherwise, there was no point in return. Even if Jimin forgave him for his failure, Jungkook would never be able to forgive himself for disappointing his leader.

Jungkook felt a soft touch tracing his jaw and froze. While it was expected for Jimin to have calloused hands like Jungkook from holding guns and ruthless training, the older had surprisingly soft hands.

“Hyung?” Jungkook glanced at him curiously, not even thinking of leaning away from Jimin’s touch.

The corners of Jimin’s mouth tilted up in a tiny smile. A smile that wasn’t exactly soft, but wasn’t the sadistic smirk the older sported when he was watching his enemies being tortured for information.

“You’re such a good boy, Jungkook. How am I so lucky to have someone as good as you right beside me?”

Jungkook fought the urge to preen, “I will try my best, hyung. You deserve much more than I can give, but I promise, I’ll always do my best.”

“You’re always so eager to please. Ah, if only everyone was as pliant as you.” The wording had an edge, but Jungkook paid no heed. He was just happy to be of some value to Jimin, if only a miniscule amount.

It was as if he was under Jimin’s spell. Jungkook had always loved his voice, the kind that was soft, but dangerously enchanting. He would recognize Jimin’s voice anywhere, even amongst a crowd of people.

With the brief contact he indulged Jungkook in, Jimin stood up and left the room. Jungkook let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Being with Jimin always had him on his toes in one way or another.

He finished his food and went back to his own to prepare. He slipped into his usual gear, a tight black turtleneck underneath a fitted harness and flexible, black cargo pants. He slipped his handgun into the holster wrapped around his right leg and a butterfly knife into the left. He strapped a few rounds of ammunition to his harness along with a cyanide pill in the pocket as a last resort in case he was ever held captive without any chance to escape. There was no way he would betray Jimin even in the face of death. Even if this was only a recon mission, Jungkook would rather be overprepared than caught unaware and jeopardize Jimin’s objectives, or worse, his safety.

He slipped out of the Park headquarters after grabbing a food pill from Seokjin that would last him enough sustenance for the next three days. Usually, Jungkook didn’t need it, but Seokjin had caught him before he could leave and insisted he at least keep it on him.

It didn’t take him too long to find the Jeon’s inconspicuous building. According to the file Jimin gave him (that Jungkook had memorized ahead of time), the Jeon family operated their black market deals under the guise of an investment corporation. Jimin preferred to focus on the banking industry, handling ridiculous amounts of money that transferred back and forth between major companies.

Jungkook needed to find out where the Jeon’s did all of their dirty work. That was what Jimin nor Yoongi’s men have been able to discover yet. He fully intended to be the one to track the elusive organization down to their leader’s whereabouts. He waited in an empty room of a high-end hotel across from Jeon Enterprises, waiting for one of the CFO’s to end the day. It was midnight by the time Jeon Wonwoo left his office. Jungkook slipped out of the hotel and hijacked a motorcycle from the hotel garage in preparation to tail the person who had to have some leadership role in the Jeon network. If Jeon Wonwoo didn’t have any contact with the head of the Jeon group tonight, he had to eventually.

It was going to be a long night, but Jungkook’s determination to make Jimin proud was more than enough to keep him wide awake and attentive.

#bts #jikook #kookmin #jungkook #jimin #jeon jungkook #park jimin #mafia au #my writing #fic

16 notes · View notes

slutzle · 6 years

Text

refrigerator light - tyler seguin

Masterlist!

gif by @puckinginsane

prompt/request: i just got this idea and had to write it idk man

warnings: a curse word or two and some bad dancing

author’s note: i really dont know what this is, i just love writing tyler

word count: 1037

“Hi love!” you call from the kitchen, knowing it’s Tyler after watching his Jeep roll up the driveway. You’re in a weirdly good mood, despite the fact that it’s just passed midnight, and that the Stars took a big loss tonight. You sway your hips to the beat coming from Alexa as you continue to load the dishwasher.

You hear a monotone ‘hi’ from the front door over the sound of thumping tails and the occasional bark. Tyler treks in from the front hall, hair slicked back from his post game shower. You arrived home a little while before him due to media responsibilities and all the extras that come with being a professional hockey player.

The frown is evident on his face and it makes your chest hurt a little, seeing him like that. “Come on Ty, it wasn’t that bad.” You say as you card your fingers through is damp hair, hoping to ease a little bit of tension, though you know it will do little to help Tyler’s mood. Normally after a 3-2 or 2-1 loss, you two will talk some real hockey if Tyler’s in the mood for it, but right now, you’re just trying to soften the blow.

“Not that bad?” He throws, but there’s no aggression in his voice, just defeat. “We lost 7-2 against the worst team in the league.” He puts his elbows on the counter and rests his face in his palms.

“Look on the bright side,” you shrug. “At least you didn’t get shutout.” Tyler raises his head and opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead he sighs and hangs his head once again. You’re aware it was a dumb thing to say, but it was a little ray of sunshine in the shitstorm that was the game. After a year and a bit of dealing with Tyler’s post-game sadness, you know there’s no use in using words to try and comfort him. You decide to let him mope as you finish tidying the kitchen and dance to your playlist, hoping to get a smile out of him.

As you begin to wipe the counters, you start to get into the music. You turn to little Gerry, who’s lying in the middle of the kitchen while he chews his elephant toy. “You’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face!” You sing very poorly. “‘Cause look at your face!” The poor pup raises his head to stare at you completely unimpressed, and then proceeds to trot to his bed in the living room. You look at Tyler as well, who’s scrolling aimlessly through his phone. “Jeez,” You scoff. “Tough crowd.”

Cash is standing in front of you excitedly, fired up by your rapid movements and excitable energy. “You wanna dance?” You coo and tap your tummy, indicating for the lab to jump up. You take hold of paws and sway back and forth to the infectious pop beat. “At least someone will dance with me,” you exaggerate, looking pointedly at Tyler, who finally looks up from his phone. “Come on, please?” You hold out your hand for him to take hold of.

“Fine,” Tyler huffs quietly, taking his time getting off of his barstool and walking over to you. A grin appears on your face, content at your ability to persuade him into doing weird yet cute domestic activities with you.

Slowly, as he twirls you around in the light of the kitchen, you see a small grin forming and you kinda want to tease him about it, but you let it go, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Soon enough a new song floods your ears. It’s weird and tropical sounding, and definitely not English. You realize that your playlist most likely ended, and therefore Spotify is taking the opportunity to play some wack shit. Instead of changing the music to something a little more your speed, you take the chance to break out your Salsa dancing. You start to sway your hips a little dramatically, moving your barefeet to the groovy beat while still holding Tyler’s hands. He’s looking at you with his brow furrowed and a completely goofy expression stuck on his face, utterly confused.

A smile grows on your lips as you’re impressed at how good your body is performing a skill you learned while wasted out of your mind on a cruise ship to the Caribbean you went on at 21. The smirk on Tyler’s face gets bigger and brighter and more genuine as he watches you move to the rhythm.

Soon enough you break into some weird form of twerking and you’re sure you look like a crazy person in your Dallas Stars shirt and paint-covered sweatpants, but you don’t even care ‘cause the only thing on your mind is making Tyler happier.

He finally throws his head back in a laugh. It’s gorgeous and bubbly and it’s a sound you’ve grown embarrassingly fond over over the past few months. You continue to shake your bum and hips somewhat sporadically until Tyler takes your hands and pulls you close to him. Your head lays on his chest and your arms wrap his waist, while he smothers you with his forearms hanging loosely over your shoulders. “I just wanted to hear you laugh.” You speak into his dress shirt.

He kisses the top of your head and then your face and then your shoulder, showing his appreciation for your effort tonight, not that it took too much out of you. “Thank you,” he whispers into your hair. The music is more melodic now and the two of you begin to slow dance around the kitchen island. It’s awfully cheesy and something straight out of a Rom-Com that you'd watch on a Saturday night while Tyler’s on a road trip, but you're not bothered.

In a matter of minutes the dogs are sticking their snouts between the two of you, begging for attention. “Okay boys, I guess it’s your turn now,” You plop down onto the floor, immediately attacked by wet noses and puppy kisses. Tyler’s right by your side, and you could not be happier with your tiny little family as you sit cross legged on the kitchen floor.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey fic #hockey imagine #mine #writing #nhl imagine #hockey oneshot

133 notes · View notes

serpent-jugheadjones · 7 years

Text

Dog Days - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Doctor!Reader

Description: Even in the darkest of times Y/N doesn’t leave Jughead’s thoughts.

Warnings: Fred’s current situation in the season finale. Spoiler alert if you haven’t watched season 2 trailers yet.

Word count: 2556

A/N: TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT! Since it’s past midnight Eastern Time Are you excited for season 2 premiere? I’m freaking out!!!! Can’t wait to see Jug on a motorcycle... So much good content to write out of :D Not sure if I’m gonna write another part for this one, but if you guys want it let me know.

An exceedingly bright light and super loud tumbling noise wakes up Jughead. He quickly sits up on the bed and realizes what a terrible idea that was as the room is now turning. The blinding light turns out to be regular morning sunlight coming from the trailer window, and the deafening buzzing noise, just his breathing echoing in his ear. “So this is what a hangover feels like.”, he whines, brushing his finger on his aching tembles, noticing the glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table. Jug swallows the pills and H2O all in one sip. Reliving a thirst he wasn’t aware of, until the liquid touched his chapped lips. He stays under the covers, waiting for the medicine to kick in. “I don’t remember coming home last night...” Last thing he does is being undoubtedly envious of the Serpent hitting on the girl with him. “Y/N!”, Juggie exclaims. He looks around for her. She’s nowhere in sight, but he finds a note next to the transparent, now empty glass. Only then does Jughead realize he’s not on his dad’s trailer. The bed with only one pillow reassures him they didn’t sleep together. That makes him both relieved he didn’t cheat on Betty and sad he didn’t give in to his transcendent cravings.

The still dizzy boy grabs his phone to check the time: 6:05 am. He can barely make it out, as his green-bluish eyes have not properly adapted to the light yet. With promises to keep to his best friend and girlfriend, he has to head out, not even having much time to explore the place as he wishes, had he not been in a hurry. Jug grabs his prized jacket, immediately noticing Y/N’s trailer isn’t much different from his dad’s. Maybe a tiny bit messier as she has clothes on top of the flat screen (a bra he didn’t try too hard not to stare at), cartons of Chinese take out on the coffee table with chopsticks dropped on the ground and plies of medicine books stacked at the kitchen counter, some with bookmarks sticking out, others open with yellow highlighter on important sentences. The girl’s a doctor. She, unlike his father, has a good excuse for the chaos.

The second Jug steps out, he hears the familiar roar of Alice Cooper’s car parking in front of FP’s trailer. “Crap. That’s all I needed...”, he whispers, rolling his eyes. With quick fingers, he folds his newest clothing item inside out to conceal the unmistakable embroidery. That’s not because he’s ashamed, of course, but simply due to the fact it’d be too much to deal with at once. Jughead breathes in, preparing for what’s inevitable to come. He lazily heads to his trailer, climbing down Y/N’s porch steps, only a couple away from his. The hangover boy wonders if they were actually lost the previous night or if he unconsciously really wanted to be with the charm-filled girl. Anyways, these thoughts can’t take him away neither from Alice’s terrible presence only a few feet distant, nor Betty’s embarrassingly leaving the car. He unlocks the door with a little difficulty, missing the keyhole the first time. Jug had to avoid eye contact with Alice, knowing how furious she must be, but now he’s unable to ignore the disapproving and confused look on Betty’s face as they enter his home. That makes his skin boil, reddening his cheeks.

“What the hell, Jughead?”, the resentful girl furiously blurts out. “Wow. Don’t shout.”, he requests, wincing at her words. “Why?”, she asks, smelling something unusual on him as she walks closer. “Are you drunk?”, Betty whisper-shouts reprovingly, as her mom still hasn’t drove off. “That I was last night. Now I’m hangover.” Jughead carefully sets the Serpents jacket on the coat hanger and begins his search for coffee powder in the kitchen cabinets. “Who are you?”, Betty pleads. “No, Elisabeth. Who are YOU?” He uses her full name for the first time and points at her, then proceeds to heating up water and grabbing two mugs. “First the jacket, now drinking. I don’t even recognize you, Juggie. You’re changing.” The hurt blonde tries to hide how insulted she feels. She stands closer to him. But he’s evasive, still occupied with preparing his drink. “Maybe I’m finally being myself. Maybe sweet ol’Jug was just an act.” He knows it’s not the case, but at the same time he doesn’t see it as a change, more like evolution, improvement, growth. Jughead fills two cups with boiling water, and watches as the water turns dark brown in contact with the powder. He hands Betty the weak coffee, though she probably needed a chamomile tea instead of cafeine, while sipping from his stronger one.

They sit in quietude for a few minutes, not even looking at each other, only at the mugs. No words are exchanged but much is being said. “Who’s trailer did you leave?” Betty breaks the silence, surprisingly not sounding angry. “Someone I just met.” He tries to leave Y/N out of it. “Why were you there?” The concern is visible on her lightly red eyes. “We were at the Wyrm. I was wasted and she...” He’s interrupted by a tear sliding down Bet’s jaw. Jughead stands up and warps his arms tightly around the desolate girl. They’re unhappy and mad at each other but he still cares for her and seeing her cry breaks his heart. “Nothing happened.”, he speaks behind his breath, assuring her that would be the last thing he’d do while with her. The blonde River Vixen, who once had the heart eyes, raises her now sorrowful face to be able to see his expression. “But you wanted to.”, she recons, foolishly hoping he’ll deny it. Jug doesn’t reply, for he can’t lie to her. “I can’t do this, Juggie.” She backs away and wipes her tears. “It’s them or me.”, Betty ultimates, begging with her eyes for him to answer. “I can’t...” Jug truly enjoyed his time with her and will forever remember her with fondness, but she’s not the one he wants to spend his life with and the boy is aware deep down she knows they weren’t meant to be.

Betty walks away, heartbroken and disappointed. Nonetheless, her head is held high. Jughead watches from the foggy trailer window her figure fading. Before she left, he was sure that was the right decision; now, a tiny hint of doubt troubles him. Be that as it may, the further away the cheerleader goes, the more he can breathe. Jug sees his path change and he’s not scared of the consequences. That’s what he wants. In the long run, it’s better they end now than drag a doomed relationship any further.

Jughead feels the air getting denser as he enters the hospital with Archie’s varsity bag, asking for Fred’s room, However, being an unofficial ex-adopted son doesn’t count as immediate family and they won’t give him any information. “Jughead!” He turns around, recognizing the voice calling him. “Mrs. Andrews... Sorry. I don’t know how to call you.” Not loo long ago, that’s how he would’ve called her. Since their divorce, he has no idea what her bachelor last name is. “Don’t worry about it”, she appeases him, handing her ID to the receptionist. At the corner of his eye, he sees ‘Andrews’ on it. They finally let them in as she clears his entrance with some law talk that Jug doesn’t fully understand.

They walk the cold scary-white corridors faster than usual. “Archie called and said they were in trouble, so I came straight here. Do you know anything?”, the distressed woman asks. “Fred was shot at Pop’s yesterday morning. The doctors got the bullet out but he hasn’t woken up yet. At least not since I left last night.” Jughead tries his best to be both helpful and sympathetic, but he can’t even trick himself that rationality wins over emotion. Fred’s room is just ahead of them. “It’s best if you wait for Archie here.”, the woman with the bright ginger hair says, in the nicest way she can, shoving her devastation inside. Jug relates to her in a less intense way. That’s how he feels about Betty. He doesn’t want to be married to her but he’d be shattered if anything happened to her.

The beanie-clad boy sits in the corridor, knee balancing up and down nervously, when the familiar Y/H/C hair is spotted walking out of a room down the hall. He’s just about to stand up and chase her when Archie leaves his father’s room. Jughead can’t leave his friend on a time like this, no matter how much he desired to speak with the girl. Upon seeing the torment and lack of sleep on Arch’s face, all he can do is be there for him. They don’t talk. The look on both their faces speaks more than words could.

Archie cleans up at the residents bathroom, changing the bloody clothes, but the stains from his cast and the desperation to have his dad back are still present. The nurses told them when they left Mr. Andrew’s room they could use one of the on-call rooms to sleep. The ginger boy takes the top bunk while Jug just sits on the bottom one. “Do you want to talk about it?” Jughead is aware his friend will shut off, but he has to convey his concern. Knowing that’s too much for one soul alone to bear. “Rather talk about anything else.”, Arch pleads, wishing just for now he can pretend nothing happened. “Betty broke up with me.” Jug couldn’t find anything else to say. He’s not hurt by the fact, rather relieved. “What? Why?” The red-haired football player is taken aback, grabbing the bunk bed and bending to look down at Jughead. “Because I took a Serpents jacket...”, he answers looking dead on Archie’s eyes, hoping there isn’t disappointment on them. “Scratch that, I’d rather not talk at all.” The sleepy boy rests his head on the pillow, closing his eyelids. If this were a regular day he’d be lecturing Juggie, but, giving the circumstances, Arch doesn’t have the strength to.

Not long goes by before Jug can hear Archie’s habitual snores. He’s comforted to know his friend is no longer in pain, now that dreams are distracting him from the tragedy. Certain that Arch will be down for a long time, Jughead leaves the room, telling himself it’s because he doesn’t want to wake the boy up. Truth is he can’t get out of his mind that, somewhere in there, Y/N is walking around. He has much to tell her. The small coffee truck is the first place Juggie goes to, but the only luck he has is a cheap but good cup of the strong hot liquid. She’s not in Fred’s room either when he takes a turn staying by his bedside so that Mary could have a bathroom break. The raven-haired boy gives up wandering the hospital in hopes to find Y/N and sits on a gurney outside the on-call room Archie is sleeping in. “Do you ever take off that hat?”, says the one person he wants to see and she hops on the stretcher next to him. “Should I?”, Jug asks running down his fingers nervously on the locks of hair slipping out the back of his neck. “Definitely not. It suits you.” Y/N smirks and offers him her bag of chips. Jughead eats, trying to figure out what to say. Before, he knew he wanted to talk to her more than anything else, but now he’s speechless, nervous but overjoyed to be next to her again. He never really felt this way about Betty. They knew each other all their lives. Y/N is a mystery he desperately wants to solve. “I need cafeine. Care to join me?” She jumps off the bed and Jug follows suit.

Y/N shivers as they walk out in the cold winter air of Riverdale. Jughead takes off his jeans jacket and places it on her shoulders, as she’s only wearing scrubs. Either way, he has an extra plaid shirt tied around his hip. “Thanks.” She pushes her arms out the sleeves and holds the hem tight on her finger nails. “What is Fred Andrews to you?”, Y/N asks as they reach the coffee truck. “I hope I’m not overstepping, it’s just that you’ve been here a lot more than anyone else.”, she quickly adds, since Jug is silent for a little longer than she’s comfortable with. “No, it’s fine. I’m trying to figure out the answer.” They head to one of the plastic tables around the vehicle. Y/N takes the lid off her cup and blows the steam away from her face. Jug almost loses focus. “It’s more complicated than I anticipated. He’s my best friend’s dad. He took me in when I didn’t have anywhere to go, even though he has financial problems. Fred was my dad’s best friend once, before my father went on a downward spiral. All I know is that I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”, Jughead shares, a single tear escaping his watery eyes. However hard it is to talk about this, opening up to her isn’t. A very moved Y/N reaches for his hand across the table. “We’re doing everything we can to get him back.”, she reassures him. He feels the warmth from her fingers against his skin. Jughead craves for more than that.

Jug stands up, still holding onto her hand. She replicates his action, standing inches from his body. He can see her breath create clouds in the air as she breathes faster. Jughead glances between her beautiful Y/E/C eyes and her much desired lips. He’s never been more sure of something he wants. Y/N leans in slightly, raising her chin to angle with his, parting her lips and sighing quietly. The raven-haired boy places his free hand on her neck, able to feel her getting goose bumps. Both want this moment to last an eternity as the anticipation feels downright fantastic. She bites her inner lip and that drives him to the edge. He finally closes the distance between them with a soft, quick kiss. The young doctor exhales in satisfaction, for she was just as desperate as him for it. Y/N pulls Jug nearer to her body, kissing him once more, deeper and more passionately. In that moment, time slows down for them and breathing doesn’t feel as important as being in contact. There is only the two of them. As if no fathers killed their sons, no fathers were wrongfully arrested for murder, no fathers were shot in front of their sons, no father’s gang sold drugs on the south side's streets. Riverdale is just a regular small town, where falling in love is the most dangerous thing that can happen.

#Jughead Jones #Jughead Jones x Reader #Jughead x Reader #Jughead Jones x Doctor!Reader #Riverdale #Riverdale Imagines #Jughead Jones Imagines #Forsythe Pendleton Jones III #jughead jones imagine #riverdale imagine #Thank you mom for proofreading #Juggie Jones #fanfic #imagine #Jughead Jones III

77 notes · View notes

archivesdiveronarpg · 7 years

Photo

Congratulations, LOLA! You’ve been accepted for the role of ROSALIND. I have waited for my small, fighty daughter for so long -- and now you have absolutely blessed Diverona with her. Lola, I am completely and utterly over the moon with this all; from the interview, to the future plots, to the para sample, and the headcanons that detail her facets and characteristics perfectly. Ramona is, perhaps, one of my absolute favorite characters with her tongue-in-cheek humor and her need to fight with every breath that she takes. Bless you for bringing Ramona to the dash! I can’t wait to see what trouble she stirs up and what trouble she is bound to get into! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

Out of Character

Alias | Nicola / Lola (’ello, it’s me, i’m weak af)

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I go to university three times a week and am currently looking into getting a part time job plus my own rp project is soon to open but I always try to check in at least once a day unless I am not physically capable of it whatsoever — and, in all honesty, if I really vibe with a group, I become embarrassingly obsessed and will just be around during all my waking hours pretty much.

Timezone | GMT+1

Triggers | none, actually c:

Permission | Sure, I don’t mind!

Current/Past RP Accounts | oh god I have so many that I’ll just go with the most recent ones, this smol son of mine & this fierce daughter of mine whom I only got to play briefly but there’s a nice lengthy writing sample under the diary tab of her navigation!

In Character

Character | Rosalind — also known as Ramona Marlena Aguilar

What drew you to this character? | The first thing about her that caught my eye was her attitude — seizing the day, fighting back even when the odds aren’t in your favour, never caving in because the very act of living has so much left to offer you. I love that she hasn’t allowed her grief to define her but has clung to her rebellious mindset despite (or perhaps because of) the obstacles thrown in her path, even in times when she might have been better off becoming the submissive little girl she could never stomach being. To me, she feels like a free spirit but not the spacey, reckless kind without a care in the world. Instead, she perfectly combines this aspect of her personality with ambition, determination and endurance which could one day get her far should she stick to them.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | I would hope for Ramona to keep her spirits and carry on fighting her way through the tragedy of her life with her focus set solely on a positive outcome, never risking a glance back at the dilemmas of the past. In terms of plots, I hope she can have, in correspondence to my earlier elaborations, mostly — but not only —positive development. (I’ve honestly been dreading this part a little and procrastinating it until I ended up kind of researching past events and kindly getting fed some inside info on recent happenings so I’m really sorry if it’s a total mess but I had very honourable intentions??)

1. Increased ambition. With the sudden collaboration between Capulets and Spades, I can see Ramona’s will to fight being at an all-time high, her eagerness exemplary and dedication to the Montagues’ cause admirable, verging on (perhaps) ever so slightly obsessive. In times like this, she will be looking to prove herself both to herself and to her superiors in hopes of her efforts paying off and there being a higher rank within the organisation she now views as a substitute family but would like to have a little more say in in her future — unsurprisingly, considering Rosalind famously happens to be Shakespeare’s female character with the most lines.

2. Increased concern. After the fiasco at The Dark Lady earlier in the month, Ramona can’t seem to shake a certain feeling of discomfort looming in the pit of her stomach when she isn’t sure about Valentina’s whereabouts, her friend’s life having as much value to her as her cousin’s at this point, both of them much more valuable than her own about which she rarely worries — after all, she has always pulled through so far. With the enemy growing stronger, I could see her concern for her closest friends growing larger, eventually spanning the grand majority of the mob. While the role of the mother hen may or may not suit her, she surely shouldn’t forget to keep looking out for herself for no one has any use for a dead protector.

3. Increased sense of self. Albeit lacking blood relation, Ramona has always viewed herself, first and foremost, as an Aguilar, and deemed the family as good as holy, their cause and intent always, without exception, matching her own, transforming her into merely a puzzle piece needed to complete the bigger picture. In interplay with her carpe diem mantra, I would love for her to put more thoughts into her individuality, which she does claim to value greatly but nevertheless pushes aside with ease in hopes of it being beneficial for the others. Perhaps she could come in touch with her roots or simply take a little time to ponder what she wants out of life for herself and not just the mob, to find a goal other than staying alive and to actually live every day to its fullest which I don’t think she has fully achieved quite yet for it is certainly a task much easier said than done.

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona? | A coy grin took a hold of her lips, orbs formerly described as doe eyes by her late father exhibiting a fiery glimmer, unmistakable proof of wildness untamed beneath the surface. Countless options shot through an alert mind at the speed of light, some of which turned the corners of plump lips further skywards; strange concepts of a past long behind her. Quiet places, the right location for a nobody to morph seamlessly into the crowd, often recommended to her when the city was still as foreign to her as she was a stranger to it. The Capital Library of Verona, the silent façade a cover for the organisation that should turn out to be her destiny, bearing the possibility of premature membership had she taken this well-intended advice. The elegantly educational confines of the Twelfth Night Museum, strictly honourable by day to make up for the debauchery unfolding in its upper realms night after night. The Castelvecchio Bridge she loved to cross consciously in the company of mindless pedestals, fur-clad paws of her tiny companion slowing their pace as they sensed the danger in the air she thrived on. Countless options, only one would be revealed. “Since I first heard of it, I was fascinated by the concept of a nightclub in a museum. In fact, I used to take it for a wild fabrication of someone trying to screw me over when I was first told about it.” Soft laughter scattering in varying directions with every shake of her head. “The initial bewitchment of the Tempest Lounge has faded, of course, but I still like going there just the same. It’s the kind of place where you can truly lose yourself for a bit and we all deserve a break from our woes and worries every once in a while.”

What does your typical day look like? | Briefly pursed lips, accentuating a tentative expression, soon opened again with delight, some of her daily rituals evidently close to her heart. “First of all, I wake up. Obviously. Before I do anything else, I take a few minutes to meditate; align myself with the universe or whatever you want to call it. Tell myself it’s going to be a day worth living, you know? Then I have a quick breakfast — I’m not really the type to lounge around for hours before I do anything productive — and make myself look just presentable enough to walk Persephone. After that, I usually pop in at our headquarters, or wherever else I’m supposed to meet with someone, to see what needs to be taken care of. I’m not very fond of always having a perfectly thought out plan when there isn’t any need for one so I just take it as it comes, hence once there’s nothing to do for me anymore I just try to make plans with Valentina or Castora or stroll around for a while or have a nice evening in with the dog.” A nonchalant shrug. “Whatever the day ends up having in store for me, I take it — unless it’s a shitty offer, of course.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“I consider it a necessary evil,” Ramona noted matter-of-factly, features hardened to an extent they bordered on neutral unreadability. “There’s always going to be bloodshed in this world, especially in this city. Someone is always looking to screw someone else over, even if it’s just two cockroaches. There’s no such thing as peace and harmony in a place like this and conflict is inevitable, no matter what the motives. It’s either the Capulets or the Spades or the two of them combined or some other leech trying to creep up our leg and suck on as much of our blood as they can before they’re being squished. That’s just the way this wicked game called life is played. As long as you keep fighting,” she shrugged, “you’re doing it right. And none of us should ever cease to fight. They asked for it.”

In-Character Para Sample:

“For fuck’s sake, where the hell are they?!”

Aggravated stomps carried a petite frame through the living room straight to the bedroom, prompting a tiny ball of white and grey fur to hop onto the bed in agony, shelter found on top of the covers. It’s a rare occasion in which one can witness Ramona losing her temper to this extent over something of so little significance but when the time has come, she is set off by even the smallest inconvenience that stands between her and a good time. In this particular scenario, the pair of earrings she was set on wearing tonight was the insufferable offender, whereabouts currently unknown, no sign of life provided. Behind her laid a trail of doom, chaos lining the lingering shadow of her steps, a freshly cleaned up flat transformed into a war zone within ten minutes or less. Thus far untouched, the bedroom was soon to follow the example set by its neighbouring localities, the first step to uncleanliness being the rummaging through drawers of her vanity the woman would have loved to simply pull out, their contents to be carelessly scattered on the floor — but her chance was missed the moment her fingertips brushed against the silk surface of a small pouch stored at the back of the first drawer, leaving her frozen mid-motion. Slowly, with extraordinary care, the unexpected meaningful discovery was retrieved with trembling hands, widened pupils settling on the fabric as though they were focusing on a dreamlike vision, her grip on reality lost once and for all.

Dumbstruck, the brunette plopped down on the chair strategically placed behind her, nails dug deeply into a token of her past she had believed to have vanished, a keepsake nearly forgotten. Deep breaths. In and out. Inhale. Exhale. Lids fluttered as she concentrated on her breathing, her increased heart rate only slowing down reluctantly. What shocked her the most, more than stumbling upon this little memento, is the shock itself. Wasn’t she supposed to be over it, the girl who lived, the girl who left her past behind along with the pain it caused her? Then why did a tied up pouch clasp her throat so tightly she feared she might choke any second now? Because she knew all too well what treasures it bore, stored within its hidden confines in a haste without a second look or thought, to be dug up nevermore.

Yet nevermore had come upon her, not the most unlikely guest considering the languid measures she had taken to prevent it from returning to her doorstep; measures she had taken because deep inside, the notion locked within her heart’s chambers, she knew all too well that one day, she would want them back in her line of sight: items she could no longer refrain from revealing if she was ever to regain her peace of mind. A gentle tug on the woven string, the innocent prisoners practically breaking out without further ado, gathering atop the vanity’s stark white surface.

A pendant sans its chain, shaped like an owl, its wise eyes staring back at her uneasy expression caught her attention first, pointer tracing its outline. This one she was given by her father, his pupils clouded with paternal concern. “Now, you’re a wise girl, Ramona. As wise as an owl, aren’t you? So please,” he had implored her, “please do me a favour and act like it.” A statement that could have easily triggered offence and, alas, it did for a few fleeting moments long since lost in time, but the addressed could only still hold onto it fondly, the memory of the encounter blurrier than she had hoped it would be. These should be the last words directed at her to drip from the man’s lips, his passing inevitable and to set in merely two days later. Pursed lips gathered at the corner of her lips in a soft frown. At least she hadn’t completely let him down. Granted, her way vastly differed from his but, in her eyes, she has been wise. A wise girl making wise decisions, finding herself a new home and purpose in a world of exaggerated cruelty.

Next came a marble seemingly made of its name twin so delicately painted, once her brother’s most prized possession in days of infantile innocence far away from this city’s shameful alleys he had given to her with a heavy heart full of love, the final seal of approval ending a rite of initiation as his sister. Oh, how she craved to regain the lightness of being they both possessed then, irrevocably lost the instant their soles touched Italian ground. “Relax,” he had sneered down the line, the connection wavering along with his voice. “You’re taking things way too seriously. If you go on like this, you’ll end up just like dad.” Only that he would be the one to end up like their father, finding eternal rest beneath the soil within the same month, she had begun to fear while he hadn’t anticipated it in the slightest.

Last but not least, an almost cruelly ironic jest. A pair of hoop earrings, worn by her mother when she was nothing more than a toddler wrapped up in her arms, in such impeccable condition they looked unworn, as had all of the woman’s possessions. “You’ll be good, won’t you, baby?” She had crooned, exhaustion oozing from every widened pore of her poisoned body, a layer of cold sweat glistening on dull skin. “You’ll live a good life full of happiness. Don’t you ever let sadness pull on your heartstrings for too long.” Advice given to a girl so young she lacked the capacity to follow it immediately but she had remembered it, word for word, clung onto it in desperation and embraced it with a slight delay, just in time for it to become her saving grace.

The electronic ‘ping’ of her phone, urging to be taken out of her pocket, broke the eerie silence that had been threatening to swallow her whole, chasing away the tears she was forbidden from shedding, the faint hint of a smile taking ahold of her lips as she spied Castora’s name on the screen.

“Still coming?! Valentina says to tell you she’s freezing her ass off in an accusing tone.”

A soft sigh, a newly found warmth triggered by relief flooding her body within moments. Her fingers typed at the speed of light, features softening at long last. “Five minutes. I got held up.” For there was no chance in hell she would allow for this to be what had last been directed at her by either of the women who gave her a reason to willingly get up in the morning. Two of the three tokens were gently replaced where they belonged — the third was to adorn their heiress tonight, once more possing as the solution to a problem at hand.

“Never, mama.” A quiet whisper drowned out by the nightly breeze. “Not as long as I can fight it.”

Extras: I’ve made her a little mock blog right here c:

HEADCANONS

CLOSE TO THE HEART:

• There’s a certain silver necklace Ramona is not likely to be caught not wearing, an amethyst pendant the star of the show, one of the few heirlooms passed onto her by her late mother she managed to hold onto after the move to Verona. In fact, she wears it with such routine that she feels uneasy without it either being around her neck or at least in her bag.

• Her dog Persephone joined her minimalistic family set up about a year and a half ago, a malnourished stray running into her near Castelvecchio by sheer luck or twist of fate. Knowing all too well how helpless and hopeless the little furball, presumably a Maltese mixed with some breed or other, had to feel, Ramona didn’t have the heart to leave her behind. Her name is her new owner’s way to make final amends and peace with death, in this case the underworld, after her frequent encounters with it.

• Although she has long given up on Christianity, if anything considering herself Wiccan, she regularly visits her father’s and brother’s grave, never without a token of her affection in tow. Usually, she spends thoroughly silent moments there, her form of communication with the deceased mutely mental unless she is extraordinarily distressed — then the emotional rants may very well unfold.

INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR:

• Staying in shape has always been important to her, her first regular workout being daily yoga sessions which she originally gave a try in hopes of it helping her become the quiet, calm woman who will under no circumstances stand out from the crowd her father hoped for her to transform herself into. While it failed to magically change her personality, it has helped her calm herself down and leaves her feeling centred and grounded, hence she still pursues it whenever she can. Once she realised that yoga didn’t have all desired effects on her, however, Ramona attempted kickboxing, hoping to achieve her goal with a rather clashing approach, which she immediately found herself enjoying. She has dabbled in various martial arts disciplines since but always finds herself in boxing gloves again sooner or later.

• It didn’t take long for Ramona to figure out that she was pansexual — in fact, she never had a true moment of realisation in that regard but accepted every form of attraction she has ever felt as factual and pleasant, meant to be if you will. Due to her lack of care for the concept of sexuality in itself, she never defines herself in any way, accidentally leaving even her friends in the dark about it only because she doesn’t consider it worth mentioning.

• If asked, Ramona would describe her clothing style as ‘functional 21st century Stevie Nicks’. Flowy, bohemian fabrics as light as Verona’s summer breeze are her wardrobe stable and what she is most likely to be seen wearing on a daily basis but she cleans up well and happily so, never underdressed for any occasion. Her hair she likes to keep in braids for the majority of the time but isn’t one to shy away from bolder moves, bleaching strands to douse in semi-permanent colourful dye or weaving in little accessories that best convey her current mood from time to time. In terms of makeup, she aims for a dewy, fresh-faced and rejuvenating look, her skin well moisturised and glowy, an artificial flush of life reviving her even after long nights and her eyes being the most accentuated feature, her mascara use heavy and her eyeliner look never being precisely the same the following day, if she uses it that day in the first place.

#accepted #accepted: rosalind

5 notes · View notes

carina-debayle · 8 years

Photo

Serick’s Friendship

Log Date: 12/3/16

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the readers enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participants knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @lightsinshadows

After the Grand Alliance I returned home to my apartment. Well… our apartment. Our home. I suppose I was still feeling uneasy after Armont and I’s… could it really even be called a spat? Our disagreement. I mostly felt discouraged, unsure of what to do or how to go about expressing myself to him. Sitting alone within our living room, the air felt dry and suffocating. And I was left to my dreadful thoughts… well, at least for a moment…

Serick Burwani kicks the door open, a brow perked as he glances about the room. “Shit. Living fancy again aren’t you?” he spies a hat on a rack and knocks it off. Replacing it with his own, more superior hat. Across his back is a large package, larger at the bottom and narrow at the top, bound in black leather with clasps holding it shut on the side.

Carina Roussos: “What in seven- Serick?! You can’t just barge in like that!” she huffs. Perking a brow toward the man, Carina inspected him some. “What brings you here…?”

Serick Burwani: “Ha! You need sturdier doors for that, girlie.” he pauses at the use of a familiar nickname, letting out a low growl. “Chasing someone down. Shitlord of a bandit. Targets caravans with women and children so they put up less of a fight. Gonna feed him his own guts when I find him.” he had a couple of daggers strapped to him, and at his leg was a pistol.

Carina Roussos: “I see… so then you’re here because?” she waves her index finger up some, a small smile spreading across her lips, “this does bring back fond memories I suppose,” she laughed out gently, taking her hat out, “does that box contain this man’s guts you intend to force feed him?”

Serick Burwani scoffs and slings the package off his back, setting it on the ground. “No. It doesn’t. Ain’t found ‘im yet, so I can’t exactly cut his guts out.” he looks up at the cake and his tail flicks to the side. He reaches up to it. “Was gonna crash here. Didn’t think you’d be here.”

Carina Roussos: “Didn’t think I would be in my own house?” she laughs with a sigh, “fortunately my daughter is out with her uncle for tonight and Armont is well… not here,” she sighs, “you’re more than willing to sleep on the couch though if you need a place to stay the night.” Carina narrows her eyes toward him as he reaches his hand toward her cake, "no touching. I’ll get my axe, don’t try me.”

Serick Burwanu stopped just before his fingertip swiped a portion of icing. “No shit huh?” he sneers at her and narrows his own eyes. “We haven’t fought in some time have we? If we ever did. You weren’t out of your sorry self-pity pile of shit state by that time were ya?”

Carina Roussos waves her hands up, “I think you may find that some things never change. Were you looking to fight?”

Serick Burwani: “Ha. Not until after I get this job done.” he waves it off and looks around for a wine rack or something similar. “Afterwards, though. We’ll see if you’ve toughened up any.” he hops up onto the counter and peers around. His boots were filthy.

Carina Roussos: “Serick! Come on, I cook food here!” she scoffs, shooing him off the counter, “you’re just like a cat,” she stuck a tongue out at him, “tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.”

Serick Burwani hops back and just gives the most shit-eating grin. “Booze if you got it. Ain’t had a drink in too damn long.” he takes up his package and hops over the couch, kicking his feet over the sidearm.

Carina Roussos: “I try not to carry too much 'booze’… Armont is a bit of a heavy drinker,” she mumbles, digging through her wine rack to pull out a bottle, “this is one of my own… only because I know Armont would be annoyed if I gave someone one of his wine. He is very protective of it,” she says, walking over to place it on the Miqo'te man’s belly. “This seems like a familiar sight…” she laughs.

Serick Burwani rips the cork off with a grin and spits it back over the couch. “Aye. Old times. Hells girlie, how long 'as it been?” he takes a deep swig, scrunching his nose at the taste, wine was always too fruity for him. “Least we don’t got a bunch of lizards sittin around the house, eh?”

Carina Roussos sits beside him, scooting him back farther into the back. “Yeah… I suppose. The diversity wasn’t bad, but most of the Au Ra we knew had some… issues. Not that we didn’t have issues of our our,” she sighed out with a shake of her head. “It has been a long time… I was reminiscing recently on a time since past.”

Serick Burwani: “Reminicing eh? Usually folks drink to avoid shit like that.” he grins and takes another sip. “And here you are. Married and with a kid. Lookin like you’re going to a beach. Living the life.” his package is sat across his lap, and he drums his fingers against the lid to make a hollow sound.

Carina Roussos: “Right…” she said out softly, “if I said otherwise, I’d sound ungrateful. I made Armont upset with such a statement. This new life, it’s secure. That is good. see you’re still mixed up with trouble. Must be exciting.”

Serick Burwani: “Ha. Nearly got my guts scooped out myself not long ago. Big ole ugly fucker swung an axe at me, caught me off guard.” he pats his side and drains a portion of the bottle before holding it out to her. “It’s the only thing what doesn’t bore me to tears. I’m good at killin folks, what can I say?”

Carina Roussos takes the bottle back from him, staring down at the dark green glass. “We were similiar in that aspect… as much as I hate to admit it, I am not built for a still life. That makes me ungrateful though…” she says out plainly, “I don’t pity myself though, I do feel fortunate. Security is good. I am happy you’re not dead. I don’t think you quite understand how relieved I am to see you every time… I fear every time I see you will be the last.”

Serick Burwani: “Eh, if I die I die and the buzzards get a meal.” he shrugs and flips open a few of the clasps on his case, closing them afterwards. “Wait till your baby girl’s older. Take her everywhere. Show her the world. You get your adventure, she gets to learn.” he shrugs like it was an easy decision. “Don’t settle for anything less than what you want. Gotta take it. Remember?” Serick casts her a sidelong glance, flipping the clasps open and closed.

Carina Roussos: “Yeah… you’re right,” she smiles lightly, “I just, have to be patient. It will be good I’m sure,” she glances over to him, poking a finger to his head, “I consider sometimes just going away a bit on my own, I think perhaps that will help quell my idle-unrest.”

Serick Burwani: “Ha, yeah. Leave the hubby to watching the girl. Go crack some skulls and have some fun.” he whaps her hand away and undoes all the clasps on his case. “If you ain’t careful you’ll get fat and lazy. That just ain’t you, now is it?”

Carina Roussos: “Pssh… please, I practice swinging my axe everyday. Armont has only beaten me once of six times. His brother I have beaten as well. I will say though, I have gained some weight since having Hestia…”

Serick Burwani glances her over, entirely unabashed. “Aye. That you have. Not bad weight, though. Looks to be muscle.” he nods and flips the case open. “I gotta say, though. Lots of free time when all you do is run around chasing people.” he plucks one of the strings inside the case and it lets out a nice twang.

Carina Roussos glances inside the case, “you… you’re not wrong. I do miss that…”

Serick Burwani: “Got into woodcarving. Learned to play this.” he pulls out the old lyre and pushes the case to the ground with a clatter. “Got good at knives again. Mostly I try to drink the time away, but fuck if that doesn’t get expensive.” he smirks and starts plucking idly at the strings. “Ain’t no piano. But it stands in well enough.”

Carina Roussos smiles happily, her elbows resting to her knees as her cheeks went into her palms, “easier to transport as well I’m sure…” her eyes drop to the strings, “have you gotten lots of practice in? I am not doing much at the moment if you want to play a song,” she grins.

Serick Burwani: “Practice. Ha.” a chord sounds and he leans his head back, closing his eyes. “you’d be surprised how many hunters got songs they want to share. I can’t sing for shit, though. Not since this.” his chin tilts up to show off the old scar on his neck. “Not that I ever did before, mind you.” still, he starts strumming up a song.

youtube

Carina Roussos scoffs, “yeah… I understand. I sing for Hestia sometimes but… it’s a bit embarrassingly,” she snorts, “I have a lousy voice, smoke inhalation does that to you…”

Serick Burwani: “You don’t smoke. Could always potion yourself up a fix, too.” he shrugs and goes into the song, his voice gravel and stone as he muttered out the phrases.

Carina Roussos: “I am sure I inhaled enough to have a lasting effect… Calamity you know,” she glances down to her bare belly, scars running down all of her skin. Humming along some with the song, Carina smiled contently, “it’s nice… I like it.”

Serick Burwani stopped singing, but kept strumming on his instrument. “Heard it from a couple of other hunters. A couple what shot down any who hurt them. We teamed up to go after a bandit clan in the shroud.” his brows knit into a glare. “Had to shoot one of 'em. Wasn’t no saving them after those arrows hit their chest. Ruined their lungs.”

Carina Roussos: “I see… that is the sort of life some choose to live. A hard choice… but not for you I’m sure,” she placed the bottle down on the wooden floor, “were you friends with them?”

Serick Burwani: “Nah. They were both right pricks. Thought they were better'n me.” he scoffs and strums out a few chords. “The guy. He looked like he was about to rip my throat out with his bare hands after I killed his wife.” he shrugs and flicks a ragged ear. “Parted ways. I kept the bounty.”

Carina Roussos: “I see… that too is hard to avoid,” she stays silent a moment, her eyes moving toward the fire, “your sentiments… they start to ring through me. At times… I wish I had just decided to cut myself off from others and stayed alone.”

Serick Burwani: “ha. Too late for you now, girlie.” he shakes his head and stomps his foot on the ground, making a steady beat for a shift in chords. “Got yourself a family. Wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t something you wanted to fight for. That baby girl’s your life now. Least until she can take care of herself.”

Carina Roussos: “My daughter means everything to me… but I can’t just strap her to my back and go adventuring… I wish I could, but it’s too dangerous.”

Serick Burwani: “Then wait. Bide your time. Someday she’ll be grown and you’ll be free. Unless you got yourself another brat by then.”

Carina Roussos: “I don’t like to think of her as a burden… she’s not. I just don’t want something bad to happen to her. Unfortunately, being selfish simply isn’t an option.”

Serick Burwani: “It is. But if you pick it you’re a worse person than I am.” he looks over with a sneer. “And that’s really shitty.”

youtube

Carina Roussos: “You’re not as bad as you think you are Serick… you’re never as bad as you think you are. If you were, well I think you would have finished me off sooner.”

Serick Burwani: “You weren’t worth the trouble before. Now? Maybe. But I’ll be damned to the seven hells before I take a momma away from her baby girl. Everyone else? Fair game.” Serick scoffs out a low laugh, tapping his boot to the floor.

Carina Roussos she laughs some, “well I guess I appreciate it. I suppose. You do know I consider you to be my friend… even if you don’t consider me to be yours, yeah?”

Serick Burwani: “Yeah yeah you’re sappy and sentimental. I know. Picked that up some time ago yeah?” he stops and drums his fingers against the side of the guitar. “Nice to know there’s someone out there what don’t hate my guts though. Even if it’s you.” his nose scrunches up into a sneer.

Carina Roussos laughs at his reaction, “gee, thanks!” she snorts out, poking her elbow against his arm, “still hate the water?”

Serick Burwani grumbles and shoves her back. “Aye. That ain’t something you get over. Least when I was with the pirates they didn’t swim either.”

Carina Roussos: “I guess… I mean I couldn’t swim for the life of me either until Hito taught me… I’d say some things are surmountable.”

Serick Burwani: “I don’t do enough growing. Let me drink and smoke and fight and enjoy the shit I enjoy without trying to drown me.”

Carina Roussos smirks, “yeah… I suppose that’s just who you are. Oh well… so long as you don’t end up dead too soon, I’m happy with how you are. Not that I know you care,” she leans back against the couch, playing with her jacket, “guess Armont’s isn’t coming to get me tonight… probably got caught up planning for his House’s expeditions…”

Serick Burwani leans forward and sets his guitar into the case, snapping it shut and pushing it forward with his foot. “I don’t got any plans to die. Too much fun.” he sneers and slips off the couch himself, kicking his feet up onto the couch cushions. “Sounds like your man’s too busy playing with that stick up his ass.”

Carina Roussos: “I wish I knew what to do to remove it… even for just a bit,” she grumbles.

Serick Burwani: “I say you kick him right off that high horse he’s sittin on. Or let me do it.” he laughs and folds his arms over his stomach. “Imagine the look on his face. Gettin his racist, noble Ishgardian ass handed to him by a fuckin homeless, bounty-huntin cat.”

Carina Roussos: “Oh please Serick, he already gets beaten by me,” she snorts, “I just wish I knew what I could do to interest him… I know his work is important to him, but I’d like his attention as well,” she crosses her arms, sinking into the couch seat.

Serick Burwani is quiet for awhile, his eyes closed. “Like what I used to give.”

Carina Roussos opens her mouth some, before shutting her mouth choosing to not respond to that. “He’s just a busy man…”

Serick Burwani chuckles at that. “Remember. Gotta take what you want. If that’s his attention, gotta take it from him.”

Carina Roussos: “Yeah… yeah, guess the who self-deprecating aspect of me makes that hard. Not very good at being you know… persuasive like that.”

Carina Roussos: “Oh come on!” he growls out, smacking his metal knuckles to the ground. “No more of this self-pitying crap! You’re better than that Carina. What the fuck have you been doing all this time to go back to being a piece of shit like that again?”

Carina Roussos winces some, frowning, “it’s a scar of mine that can only be covered… never really fully healed. You of all people, should understand that,” she leers toward him, “I’d say it’s gotten better, but I still struggle. I try not to let it win though,” she laughs softly, “at least you’re honest about it, I respect that.”

Serick Burwani just grumbles and flips her off. “Yeah well it still pisses me off. You keep saying crap like that and I WILL fight you.”

Carina Roussos: “Fight me then! Perhaps just the thing I need for a pick me up is a good spar,” she winks to him.

Serick Burwani taps one of the hilts of his dagger. “No holds barred. Beat the shit out of each other until we’re both satisfied that you’re not gonna dig yourself a pity pile.”

Carina Roussos: “I’m willing if you are, sometimes you just need the pity beaten out of you.”

Serick Burwani: “If I win I get that cake,” he had the most serious look he’s ever had.

Carina Roussos sighs, "fine… and if I win, you have to come and visit me again some time before Starlight.”

Serick Burwani pushes himself up and hops up and down a few times, peeling off his gloves. “We going outside or do I got permission to fuck this place up?”

Carina Roussos: “Outside,” she said plainly.

Serick Burwani: “No fun.”

Carina Roussos: “I’d rather keep my home in one piece, thanks…”

Serick Burwani: “Noooo fun!” he calls back over his shoulder, stuffing his gloves into his pocket. “We going fists, or weapons?”

Carina Roussos: “Probably safer with fists.”

Serick Burwani: “Aye. Don’t need to be bleeding each other out. It’ll get all over my cake.”

Carina Roussos: “Oh hush about the cake…” she rolls her eyes, leading them out.

Serick Burwani pulls out his knives, throwing them into the dirt a ways away. His gun is tossed next to them. “Aight. Here we go.”

Carina Roussos tugs at her gloves some, the leather squeeze as she closes her fists, “ready as I’ll ever be,” she grins, digging her heels into the grass.

Serick Burwani launches himself forward, throwing a swift right hook to her jaw.

Carina Roussos more or less eats shit as he knocks her to the side with a swift fist to her face. Breathing uneasily from the rather sudden hit to the face, spitting some blood that she tasted from her teeth more than likely cutting the inside of her mouth, Carina swiftly swung a muscular leg up toward the side of his head.

Serick Burwani let out a laugh when his first strike connected. “COME ON, I THOUGHT-” his words were cut short by a kick to the head, stumbling back while the world spun around him. He blinks and shook his head to settle his vision before hopping forward, grabbing for her hair to distract while he brought his knee up to her stomach.

Carina Roussos brings a fist back, stepping back to avoid his hands before launching her fist forward to him back in the jaw. “Best not be talking shit before the match is even over! Three hits, Serick!”

Serick Burwani was off-balance from the failed attack, trying to bring his arm up to block the strike. Seems he’s gotten slow in his time away. The fist connects and knocks him to the ground, bringing a loud laughter from him as he un-crumpled himself from the ground. “Atta girl! Now you got some fire back!” Legs coil beneath him and he launches towards her, shoulder aimed at her diaphragm in a shoulder tackle.

Carina Roussos topples back as a loud crack was heard. Seething through her teeth painfully, Carina’s eyes lit up in ferocity as she fought through the burning pain in her shoulder to bring her legs up to kick Serick harshly in the chest to send him back.

Serick Burwani was indeed sent flying back, his own ribs cracking in a couple of places from the rage-fueled kick. He coughs and sputters, laughing on his back in some twisted, pain-laugh combination. “Fuckin hells. Thought we were tryin’ to avoid killing each other.” he rasped out, staring up at the sky.

Carina Roussos: “You aren’t dead are you?” she grunts, “I win, besides… you know you like this sorta stuff,” she groans out painfully as she sat up, staring up at the sky, “fuuuuuuck!” she yelled out, taking a deep breath and exhaling it out noisily, “that was… that was good…”

Serick Burwani coughed out another laugh. “Ain’t dead yet, girlie. Gotta try harder than that. He waited for a time before trying to sit up, wincing and twisting his lip up into a snarl, showing off his chipped fangs. "Now. Don’t pull this shit again you hear? You got too much business to take care of to whine and cry to yourself.”

Carina Roussos: “Yeaaah… yeah… you’re right,” she takes a few deep breathes, looking up at the sky, “you know.. dusk is my favourite time of day… just between day and night… it gives me such a strange feeling and it feel so fleeting.”

Serick Burwani looks up to the sky, one arm held to his side, the other scratching at the scruff on his chin, sliding down his scars. “Like taking just the right shot. Only got a moment and it’s gone. Aye. I know how ya feel.”

Carina Roussos: “It’s nice… I wish it lasted longer. Seems the good moments in life are like that. Come and go so fast…” she exhales again before painfully standing to her feet, “well probably broke my collarbone some, but that’s not something a potion can’t fix,” she smiles toward the Miqo'te man, “thanks, Serick.”

Serick Burwani scoffs and flips her off. “Well fuck you. You broke my ribs.” still, he breaks out a grin and turns back to the apartment complex. “If I don’t take one'a your potions, can I still get the cake?”

Carina Roussos: “You can have a slice of cake and a potion, how about that?”

Serick Burwani: “that’ll do girlie.”

Serick Burwani: “Your potions still taste like fried marmot asshole?”

Carina Roussos: “Yeah, pretty much.”

Serick Burwani: “Fix that.”

Carina Roussos grabs two vials filled with a light green substance, returning back into the main area, “afraid they have their purpose,” she tosses him one of them, “will still probably have some bruising, but it will heal anything broken.”

Serick Burwani had a knife out, nearly to the cake, “Oh yeah. Should wash it down with this.”

Carina Roussos narrows her eyes toward Serick, “I will cut your cake, I am sure your idea of a slice is half the cake,” she scoffs.

Serick Burwani scoffs back and snatches the potion from her hand, downing it with a scrunched nose. “Fuckin hells that’s awful.”

Carina Roussos: “Yeah well, that’s medication for you,” she moves over to the cake, cutting him a decent sized slice with a nearby knife. Placing it on a plate for him, she offered it to the man, “want to take Hestia’s bed since she’s gone for the night?”

Serick Burwani takes the cake and goes over to the fireplace, laying down with the cake balanced on his chest. “Naw. I’ll sleep here…

…Hey.”

Carina Roussos: “Yeah?”

Serick Burwani: “Remember that time I hadn’t slept in like, a week and passed out in the main room. Some big fight broke out and I woke up all bruised up?” He was eating the cake with his hands. Like an animal.

Carina Roussos: “I suppose… you got into a lot of fights. Why, were you thinking about it?”

Serick Burwanj: “Naw. Just sleeping in front of a fire reminded me of that. What a pile of shit eh?” He sneers over at her. “I��m gettin old.”

Carina Roussos: “Oh hush up… if you’re getting old then I am too…” she spat back in annoyance, “it’s not like I was much better… remember when I’d sleep under my desk instead of in a bed? We weren’t that much different you know…”

Serick Burwani: “Ha. Yeah. What a child,” Serick knocks the plate off onto the ground, lucky to not have it break, and pulls his hat onto his face.

Carina Roussos brings her boot up, pressing it to his head, "what’d you say…” she asked through grit teeth.

Serick Burwani grumbles something and waves her foot off. “Said you come a ways since then.”

Carina Roussos: “That’s what I thought,” she 'humphed’ removing her boot from him as she reclined against the couch cushion quietly, “there were a lot of places you probably could have gone to… did you at least come here to see me?” she asked softly.

Serick Burwani didn’t say anything. Didn’t think he’d have to.

I think… things would get better. No. I believed they would.

#journal #serick burwani #rorick aster

1 note · View note