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og-danny-dorito · 4 years

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{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

- it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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HEY I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT YOUR FICLET ABOUT GERALT BEING ILLITERATE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I had to put down my phone and whimper when he pulled out the card 🥺 can.. can i humbly request a pt. 2 in the future please? (also,, ive gone through the entirety of your blog too and its. so. good. while ive been chillin’ quarantinin’ reading your fics have been my very favourite thing to do!!) ♥️

Nonnie, you and @ohnomybreadsticks have both given me inspiration for more. It’s gone in a slightly different direction with the whole Wolf School in on the thing now. But, hopefully, you’ll enjoy this addition just as much. Best of luck with the quarantine! I’ll be posting stories fairly regularly for the foreseeable future which will hopefully keep you entertained and out of trouble!

The illiterate Geralt story can be found here.

Jaskier’s School of Self Care for Lost Wolves

It was a known fact that Jaskier loved too much and too freely. Sometimes, he even fell in love with those he hadn’t met but felt they needed love all the same. Which was how he ended up with emotions towards witchers he hadn’t met beyond Geralt occasionally letting a name slip. It wasn’t the same kind of love he held for Geralt, it wasn’t all consuming, he didn’t want to kiss the other witchers silly but it didn’t burn fiercely and involved a lot of throws and warm cuddles. Because, as Jaskier had helped Geralt work on his reading and writing, he realised something. None of the other witchers knew how to do that either. Which was how Jaskier ended up demanding he be allowed to go to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. He had a whole winter to remedy the mistakes their teachers had made. It wouldn’t magically make up for all the neglect but Jaskier would be damned if he didn’t try his best to slowly build scaffolding around and start the process of patching in the holes.

The journey back to the old keep was more hazardous than Jaskier had even dared imagine. It didn’t help that Geralt told him most witchers died on the path, either too naive and new on their way out or too tired or injured on the way back. That was utterly appalling and Jaskier was in half a mind to demand that a new path be devised to make sure all witchers could get home and get the care they needed. Even if Geralt insisted this was for the best, an injured witcher had no prospects after all. Rather than argue, Jaskier kept his mouth shut and began scheming.

There weren’t many witchers left, the school of the wolf was a dying breed but, along with Geralt, three other witchers returned and Jaskier was delighted. It seemed that the whole family was together again. Not that they acted like a family, more like a bunch of pissy cats trying to establish territories because they couldn’t figure out how to share and snuggle. That did disappoint Jaskier, he had a lot more work cut out for him than anticipated. Still, he could put the beginnings of his plan into play.

“What are you doing?” Lambert sounded so utterly offended when he came across Jaskier settled comfortably between Geralt’s legs, both of them stretched out on a fur in front of a fire. Jaskier was holding a book and Geralt was reading aloud in a low, rumbling voice.

“We’re enjoying a good story. Care to join us?”

Snarling, Lambert stalked out of the room and Jaskier shrugged. It was a start, even if it wasn’t an auspicious one. However, it set things into motion because not two days later, Eskel had approached Geralt in the kitchen, softly quizzing him on reading.

“I could teach you,” Jaskier volunteered as soon as he heard, deciding to ignore the wide eyed, almost sheepish look from Eskel.

That was how an hour was set aside each day where Jaskier sat with Eskel, leafing through well loved books that Geralt had used, sounding out words together. After the third time, they ended up with a secretive audience in the form of Lambert lurking just outside the door, listening in. In the end, Jaskier left a book in his usual hiding spot and waited for Lambert to come to him. It took longer than he had anticipated, Jaskier had been shooing Eskel out the room and hanging around to tidy up after their lessons for a good week before the book was thrown by his feet.

“Stop mocking me.” Lambert had his arms crossed defensively over his chest and was glaring in a way that would have sent bolts of fear through most people. Just as well that Jaskier wasn’t like most. He’d seen the posturing, the anger and lashing out in Geralt before, knew all too well what lay below it. With the greatest simplicity, he picked up the book and sat down, opening it and giving Lambert an expectant look. After a beat, the witcher sat down next to him.

That was three witchers on their way to literacy but something still bugged Jaskier. Thankfully, he didn’t have to say anything because Lambert took matters into his own hand. He had a book with him one breakfast, furiously trying to catch up with the other two and master ‘See Spot Run’ at record speed.

“Why did you never teach us to read?” he asked around a mouthful of eggs, greasy fingers leaving marks on the pages.

A silence descended on the table as eyes turned to Vesemir who, for the first time since they knew him, looked uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t needed,” he began. “A witcher can’t read a monster to death.”

Understanding dawned on Jaskier then and there. He put his fork aside and stood with an “oh you poor dear”. It was barely audible over Vesemir’s mumbled “I was just a fencing instructor.”

Walking around the table, he easily settled on Vesemir’s lap, ignoring all social conventions regarding touch. Looking up at the witcher, he smiled.

“It’s never too late to learn.”

Given the possessive nature of witchers, one would have expected Geralt to get jealous. However, he seemed content for Jaskier to do as he pleased, spending time with the other witchers. All too soon, all four of them were piled together on rugs and chairs around a fire and frowning over their respective books while Jaskier flitted between them, helping and encouraging where it was needed. It was obvious Lambert struggled the most, the letters dancing before his eyes and never quite settling which made him growl in frustration and his book often went flying across the room. Only once did it land in the fire.

“I’ve made a decision,” Jaskier announced during a quiet afternoon. “You’re all coming along wonderfully with reading and I have so much more to offer.”

Four witchers looked at him a little fearfully, wondering if they weren’t enough. They didn’t say anything as Jaskier walked out of the room but the sadness was palpable. Until Jaskier returned with his beloved lute.

“If anyone wants to learn any music, I’m happy to teach them.”

While reading was a chore for Lambert, he took to music like a duck to water when shown songs, able to replicate the chord sequences Jaskier showed him quite quickly. He had a special love of raunchy singing songs. The only sad thing was that there was only one lute or any kind of musical instrument in the whole of Kaer Morhen. Though Jaskier was more than happy to sing along to whatever tune Lambert was picking out. Soon, they had a whole repertoire of witcher drinking songs they would happily belt out while the others thumped the table in time with the beat.

By contrast, Eskel seemed content with the softer side of things. In fact, he had taken a real shine to sonnets and would often be found discussing them in depth with Jaskier. Occasionally, Geralt joined in but he didn’t find as much joy in dissecting whether the “sweet smell of faded summer” was in fact a statement about the passing of seasons or whether it was the soft lament of two lovers growing old.

“What are you doing?” Vesemir’s voice pulled Jaskier from his quiet introspection. It was early, the sun was barely poking out from behind the mountains but he was out in the courtyard with Geralt sat on a barrell and frowning into a book.

“Stretching,” Jaskier replied, sunnier than the weather. “I learned a series of movements to keep the body supple and the mind engaged. It helps me keep up with Geralt.”

The wink he sent Geralt’s way was enough to have him raising the book to hide his blush. While everybody knew what was going on between them, Geralt didn’t like to shamelessly advertise it. He was a private soul by nature.

“Come.” Jaskier beckoned Vesemir. “Let me show you.”

They worked through poses, Jaskier explaining a little about each of them. While they looked simple and easy, Vesemir was surprised to find that they gave the gentlest workout he had ever had. By the end, he was pleasantly tired but not in a way a training fight would have worn him out. It was, for want of a better word, rejuvenating. It had him as close to a smile as he usually got.

Over the course of the week, it went from Jaskier stretching in the courtyard while Geralt read to Jaskier and Vesemir. Until, silently, Eskel joined them one morning, standing next to Vesemir, a little nervous but a smile from Jaskier had him easing into the flow. The next morning, soft lute strums accompanied their exercises as Lambert sat opposite Geralt and his book, playing something gentle. The grateful look Jaskier shot him was enough to get him scowling, even if the music never stopped.

Spring was just around the corner. The witchers were all sat around the cleared dining room table with parchments in front of them, quills in hand. Eskel’s tongue was sticking out the corner of his mouth as he focused on his work.

“Just remember, this means you can keep in touch with each other. Enchanted crows can deliver your letters now.” Jaskier was playing soft music as the others perfected their penmanship. Well, all except Lambert who had taken to doodling, letters getting lost in the pictures. But that was okay, he could always draw his sentiments, the others would understand.

By the time it came to leaving Kaer Morhen, Jaskier was content and happy. He had four witchers who looked so much more self confident in their abilities. Because while he had kept their attention on the arts, it was inevitable that they all bonded. It wasn’t all that unusual to find at least two, if not three of them piling on top of each other with a book, getting lost in adventures they didn’t have to live through. Someone else’s struggles were so much more satisfying when the fear of death and failure didn’t hang above their heads.

Three witchers and a bard stood in the courtyard, horses loaded up as they prepared to leave on their respective paths. Only Vesemir stood in his usual attire and a soft smile creasing his face.

“Safe travels to you all,” he said, meeting the others’ eyes in turn.

“What will you do?” Eskel asked. “You usually accompany us at least some of the way.”

The smile turned into an excited grin and Vesemi gestured vaguely towards the keep. “My path for the year is one that is a tight circle. The library here needs some attention.”

Pride made Jaskier beam. He stepped forward and gave Vesemir a hug. “I expect many a wonderful tale from the library when we’re back next year.”

That sealed it. The next winter, they were all going to return with more stories. Eskel even kept a diary to share with Jaskier in case Geralt was stingy on his details for songs. And, when they all reconvened at the start of the next winter, Vesemir had tomes from the library ready to read stories from while Lambert turned up with his own lute on his back.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #illiterate geralt #tldr: jaskier teaches all the witchers how to read and appreciate the arts

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shigarakis-fifth-hand · 4 years

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Shigaraki x Reader Request

Anonymous:

So I love your writing and I'm not sure if you've already done it before but I just wanted to ask if you could maybe do a shig x F! Reader scenario where she is on an important call, but Shiggy's all horny and starts feeling her up, maybe even goes as far as actually stuffing her, but she can't put the phone down cause it's a very important call with a very important client or smth like that heh I'm sorry the thirst for the crusty boy is so real rn 😩

Shigaraki Tomura, one of the greatest known villains of all time. It wasn’t that he was extremely powerful, or intelligent, but he had enough common sense to assemble some of the more... interesting people to join his League and make it as powerful as it was today. You though, you were the best out of all of them.

Your quirk was simple, you simply couldn’t get hurt. Like your classmate Kirishima Eijiro, your skin was your weapon. But unlike him, the effects of your quirk never went away. Simply, you couldn’t be cut, scratched, or punched. You felt no pain in the areas where you focused your quirk, and your skin couldn’t be destroyed.

Sure, you were a lot like Kirishima, including your bubbly personality and need to always improve your strength, but you had a big secret. You were the fiancé to Tomura Shigaraki, or Tenko Shigaraki he had eventually told you. You remembered the day he had proposed to you. It was when he got back from fighting UA at the Summer Camp.

He had “kidnapped you” just so he could get you alone for a few days, and ended up having you run away and act like you had “escaped”. During those days, he was more romantic, sweet, and loving than usual. Tenko loved pda, and refused to let you get up from the couch for days at a time.

When the heroes were close, he gave you the ring, which you put a string on and put it on your neck to be hidden by your shirt, and then ran out into the road, pretending to be passed out for the heroes to find you.

Lucky for you, it was Summer Break, and you were allowed to spend all the time with Shiggy that you wanted without the hassle of trying to keep such a secret. You also spent that time doing hero work, hanging out with your friendly classmates, and of course arranging things with your mentor Fat Gum, and your two best friends/ partners Tamaki and Kiri.

At the moment, it was noon on a Saturday, and you were sitting in the League’s living room watching tv, waiting for a call from Fat Gum to talk about starting working with Kiri and Tamaki during the week. Even though Fat Gum thought of you like his daughter, he was a big deal to you still, and this phone call meant a lot to you even though a lot wasn’t on the line.

Plus it was perfect for the call, with the League out on a mission, and you alone with the entire place quiet. Shiggy would be back tonight for a dinner date, and today would go smoothly. As you thought about your sweet boyfriend and hoped that he was okay, your phone began to ring. Picking it up, you heard the friendly voice of your mentor.

“Ahh, Y/n! Great being able to talk to you! We have Kirishima and Tamaki on the call as well!” Fat gum exclaimed joyfully as you heard greetings from your two guy besties. “Hey Y/n!” They called out in sync, Tamaki’s voice barely hearable. “Hey guys, I-” You stopped, hearing the sounds of the door becoming unlocked. What? They weren’t supposed to be home for another few hours!!

You got off the couch and ran upstairs to the room that you and Shiggy shared, closing it and sitting against it angrily. “Y/n, you good?” Fat gum asked as you responded with a happy hum, doing your best to be discreet as you heard your name being murmured around the League’s apartment. What that Shigaraki??? Oh no no no...

“Good, now here’s what I’m thinking...” As Fat Gum began trailing on and on, you opened the door to see a tired, worn-out Shigaraki. Feeling your heart be filled with pity, you signaled that you were on the phone, opened the door, and let him in. He walked towards you, pressed himself against your small frame, and kissed your forehead. “Aww, rough day baby?”

You asked, cupping his face in your soft hands as he nodded, pulling you close to hug. He began to rest his chin on your head as you continued the call. “I’m free all day, but on Wednesday I won’t be able to go to Sakura Street because I need to take my sister to her swim practice.” Kirishima explained as you piped in, trying to catch up in the conversation.

“I can do it for you!” You exclaimed, before Shigaraki began kissing your neck tenderly, letting his hands grip your ass and waist tightly like he usually did. “What t-time do you need?” You tried not to stutter as he pushed your body against him, letting his knee rub against your entrance like he did when he was horny for you. Oh god... not now Shiggy baby.

“Awesome! I just need you to cover Sakura street between three and four pm. Could you do that? You just need to walk down, and check that one alleyway that we were talking about because...” As Kirishima rambled on, Shigaraki kissed your lips passionately, beginning to push you up against the bed and bend you over slowly.

Biting your lip and mumbling any sounds you could make, you brought the phone back to your ear and listened as the boys talked. “Well I’m not busy then so I can take your shift Y/n. What are you doing 3 to 4?” Tamaki asked, as Shigaraki began to remove your pants. Shaking, you felt his hot breath on your body as you tried to carry on a conversation.

“Um, yea Tamaki...” Both of your shirts were now off, “Three to four?” Shigaraki slipped down his pants, revealing his boxer and large erection poking through, “I’m going to be... um...” Shigaraki slipped your panties down, and began fingering you, causing you to lose all control of your legs as you wrapped your legs around his torso to hold you up.

“I’m going to be patrolling the Green Bridge area, n-near the baseball stadium. Just on those three streets, and then I was planning on stopping by Deku’s mom’s place to move some of her furniture. Shigaraki smirked at you, rolling his eyes and beginning to move his boxers down to reveal his large cock, throbbing for you.

Swallowing nervously, you tried so hard to focus on the call as your fiancé moved you, positioning you and getting ready to stuff you full of him. “Okay! Sounds good kiddos!” You sighed happily at Fat Gum’s comment, hoping that this call would end so you could focus on Shiggy who was seconds away from fucking you senseless.

“So Tamaki, tell me about your weekend.” Kirishima exclaimed as Tamaki began speaking, endlessly mumbling about his plans and how excited he was to see you and Kiri. Before you could mentally prepare, Shiggy shoved his cock into you, letting you scream out in pain and such amazing pleasure. It was amazing, feeling your walls wrap around him and throb with him.

“Y/n?! Are you okay?!” Kirishima asked, letting you know that you had probably frightened the three guys on the other ends. “Oh! Yea! I just... saw a... bug!” Between breaths, Shigaraki pumped himself into you, one hand around your neck tightly, and the other around your waist.

“Oh, what did it look like?” Tamaki asked, and at that moment, you wanted to kill your best friend for making conversation. “It’s... big... and fuzzy. I’m going to go... kill it!” You squeezed the sheets beneath you, silently gasping as Shigaraki pounded into you, overstimulating you to the ends of the Earth, which you both loved.

“Love you guys! I’ll text you guys tonight in the group chat... when I’m... done! Bye!” Without hearing their responses, you hung up the call and threw your phone to the other side of the wall angrily. Shigaraki smashed his lips to yours as he pulled out, laying you on the bed, and climbing over you. “Good girl... such a good girl. You’re able to be a good hero, and still please the worst villain.” He bent down and kissed your forehead again, before beginning to just lay on you.

You ran your fingers through his curly hair as he rested his head against your plump chest, breathing slowly and trying to calm him down. “So... what happened?” You asked sweetly, almost swearing that he began purring. “Dabi had to save me from almost getting shot in the face.” You looked down at your boyfriend, your eyes wide and fearful.

The guy was behind me, and was about to shoot before Dabi burned him and made him miss. If Dabi wouldn’t have been there, he would have hit me right in the skull.” Shigaraki explained as you began giving him a scalp massage, causing him to move his head and close his eyes peacefully. Your touch always made him feel better, if not 100% happy again.

“I just... needed to feel your touch. If I die, I know my last thought is going to be of you.” Shigaraki confessed, sitting up and looking at you, his lips parted. Here he was, pouring his feelings out, something that he never did. “I... I love you so much Y/n.” Shigaraki leaned in, sitting you on his lap and beginning to kiss you, intertwining four of his fingers with yours. “I love you too Baby.”

Hun, I totally understand your thirst. Shiggy makes all my daddy issues come true in one microsecond. For a good month he was all that I could think about!! <333

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happyandticklish · 3 years

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Never So Sweet A Dream As Laughter

Summary: Ronan keeps dreaming of feathers and he can only hide the reason for so long before Adam discovers why.

Ronan had been dreaming of feathers lately.

At first it was only one, barely noticed except that it was pure white, a color so opposite Chainsaw that it couldn’t possibly have come from her. Days went by, however, and the amount grew so that sometimes he woke up surrounded in a blanket of them, brushing them off irritably.

He always cleaned them up before anyone could notice.

As far as he could tell there was nothing special about these feathers, nothing significant about them that made them stand out as a dream thing. They were simply feathers, all different kinds after that first one, some stiff and velvety and other soft with frayed edges. Some had dots on them, freckled with color, and some were bright and exotic.

The only special quality they held was that Ronan couldn’t look at them without blushing.

He knew why they were there and that was the reason why he could never let anyone see them. He had been dreaming also, lately, of Adam. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, only the manner in which he did. Adam, lying on his back, bare-chested, curls crushed against grass or a mattress or whatever else their setting was that dream. His head was thrown back in laughter, sweet, melodious laughter, caused by the simple touch of a feather drawn softly across his skin by none other than Ronan himself.

Fuck.

It was getting more and more difficult to be around Adam now, as the only thing he could think about when he saw him was the sight of his naked body writhing and laughing under Ronan’s soft touch. Adam joked and teased and kissed him like normal, unaware of this strange secret desire that Ronan harbored. Sometimes he spent the night. It was harder to explain the feathers then.

“Dreaming about pillows,” he explained when Adam woke up surrounded by feathers as well, one eyebrow raised at the mess. “Big ones. Big enough to suffocate you with. Haven’t quite got it down yet but I’m working on it.”

“Ha,” Adam said, a single consonant by itself that said Ronan was full of shit but he wasn’t going to pursue the issue if Ronan didn’t want to talk about it. So they didn’t. They cleaned up the feathers and stuffed them in the trash, and Adam joked that they really could make a pillow if they wanted. Ronan kissed him because he had learned recently that kissing was a very effective way to shut Adam up.

The dreams, however, their desire unfulfilled, began to grow more ambitious in their designs. One day he woke up with handcuffs. Handcuffs and feathers. He hadn’t known a way to explain it so he only shrugged when Adam asked him, throwing the handcuffs in the trash as well. Adam didn’t ask him again, but now his eyes remained on him, a piercing gaze that Ronan found himself unable to hold in return. They cleaned up the mess again and went about their day, refusing to acknowledge the reality of the situation.

Eventually things grew to be too much and when Adam woke surrounded by feathers for the fifth time that week he turned to Ronan and demanded, “Talk to me.”

Ronan, groggily, sat up and shoved off a pile of feathers. “Fuck off.”

Adam circled his wrist with his fingers, not quite grabbing, a gentle insistent tug so that Ronan finally looked at him. “Hey,” he whispered, not pitying or demanding, just a quiet noise for Ronan to focus on. “Ronan.”

Ronan held his gaze a second longer before diverting it to a wall across from them, able to either look at him or talk but not both, not at the same time. “I’ve been dreaming about tickling you.”

Adam was silent. He was half-tempted to look back, and the desire grew to a needy itch that he forced himself not to scratch. Finally Adam said, “Oh.”

Neither of them moved or spoke. Ronan could feel energy, red-hot like molten iron running through his veins, and he wanted to bolt, to run, to blaze through a whole fucking marathon and never come back. He didn’t.

“I’m not going to,” Ronan assured him, a bit too quickly. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

He finally looked at him because if he didn’t he was going to explode. Adam was holding a feather between his fingers, staring at it and twirling it ruminatively. He grabbed Ronan’s hand, placing the feather there and closing his fingers around it. “Okay.”

It was like someone had knocked the feet out from under him. He snapped his gaze to Adam, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“I’m not forcing you to.”

“I know.”

“So if you don’t want to—”

“Ronan.”

He was blushing. Adam was blushing and it spread across his face like wildfire, tinging the ends of his ears. The sight made Ronan’s limbs tremble. “I want to. I mean, I want to try.”

Ronan looked down at the feather held in his hands, spinning it gently as Adam had done. “Okay.”

“Okay.” For a moment that was that and they sat in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Then Adam spoke, hesitantly. “Should I…?” He indicated his t-shirt and with a stiff, jerky nod from Ronan he pulled it off, throwing it on the floor away from them. Ronan took a moment to appreciate his body, the stark lines and muscles that made him up, every part of him carved in perfect detail, like that of a statue. But he wasn’t a statue. He was soft and malleable, with bruises and moles and freckles that covered his skin like art. When Adam pulled his arms above his head, the skin stretched and arched with him.

“D-Do we start now or—mm!”

Adam’s sentence was cut off as Ronan drew a feather down the length of his arm, wanting to trace the contours. The feather was stiff and black, like those he often found lying around the house when Chainsaw was molting. He continued going up and down his arm for a while, content with the goosebumps prickling up and down Adam’s body like an invasion.

“Does it tickle?” he asked curiously, as Adam’s lips were pressed together in a tight line, having not spoken since the initial beginning. Now, though, he shakily opened them to reply.

“Not exactly,” he answered honestly, considering the question. “It’s more like… a soft itch, like when a bug crawls on your arm.” He paused. “It’s kind of pleasant, actually, in an unbearable kind of way. It’s hard to stay still, though.”

“Hmm.” Ronan moved the feather down quickly, now circling the outer edge of his armpit. Adam stiffened immediately, his mouth clamping shut as he focused on anything but the increasingly devastating feeling of that feather getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area. The edges of his lips were pulled into a reluctant smile that only grew wider when Ronan finally reached his destination.

“Does this tickle?” Ronan repeated, more sure of the answer this time. Adam gave a stiff, jerky nod, arms trembling. He looked like he wanted to say something, or laugh, or both, but he refused to open his mouth. Ronan found himself needing to hear what Adam’s laugh sounded like, genuine and helpless and carefree, a need that burrowed inside him and prompted him to pick up a second feather, quickly targeting his other side. Both armpits now being relentlessly assaulted by the feathers’ soft touch, Adam whimpered softly before a tiny giggle slipped out, followed by a second one and then a third one. Soon Adam was overcome by melodic giggles that seemed to almost trip out of him with each second that went by.

It was beautiful. It was everything Ronan had dreamed it would be, only better because this time it wasn’t his imagination conjuring up flickering images. This time it was Adam, real and alive with laughter that stumbled and fell in heart-stopping bursts.

Ronan never wanted it to end.

There was only so long that Adam could keep his arms up, however, with Ronan relentlessly tormenting the singular area. With a soft whine Adam drew his arms back down, clutching them across his chest protectively.

Ronan paused, worried he had overstepped a boundary. “Do you want me to stop?”

Adam blushed, shaking his head. “No, it just… it really tickles, okay? I can’t hold still for it. Maybe try somewhere else?”

Ronan nodded and Adam carefully placed his hands back above his head. For a while he merely swirled the feather along his shivering form, circling the soft, vulnerable skin of his stomach and dipping down across the V of his hips. Adam managed to contain his laughter at this, but he expressed its effect in the way his stomach jumped and contracted under the feather’s touch and the shuddering sound of his breath as he inhaled.

As he did so, Ronan considered his splayed out form for a moment, trying to think of a spot the feather would have the greatest effect on, aside from the obvious. He knew for a fact that harder tickles worked on Adam; the two had been friends for years beforehand and there were sparse moments when Gansey would dig his knuckles into his ribs affectionately or Ronan would goose his sides in passing.

It was not harsh, intensive tickling that he desired right then, however. At that moment, he wanted to see strong, prideful Adam fall to such a simple thing as the touch of a feather.

Glancing up at Adam to make sure this was okay, Ronan firmly gripped each of his thighs and pulled them apart. Having worn only a thin t-shirt, lying discarded on the floor, and boxers to bed, the entirety of his speckled, tan thighs was on display for the other boy to admire. Ronan traced a hand wonderingly over them, momentarily distracted from his mission. It was only when he saw Adam squirm beneath his touch that he was reminded once more. He picked up the feather and then, after considering for a moment, grabbed quite a few others as well. He traced the long plumage up his thighs, a thousand fluttery kisses that surprised a squeak from Adam.

“W-Wait!” he stuttered, grinning helplessly. “T-Thahahat’s nohot fahair!”

“You agreed to this,” Ronan reminded him, delighting in his reactions though his face remained stoic. “Remember?”

“B-Buhuhut—” Adam protested, but ultimately he could find no excuse for something he had asked for, and fell back on the bed in a pile of giggles. It was unfair, he held fast to that. It was unfair because there was no possible way Adam could have known he was that ticklish on his thighs or that a feather would tickle him as much as it did. He had hardly ever been touched there, and when he had it was usually by Ronan and usually in far more erotic scenes than their current one.

He would like to say that had he known how sensitive he was, he would have told Ronan no. However, as sparks of feeling scurried through his nervous system to his brain, filling him with a sensation not too far off from floating, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t have. Adam closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the feeling and to the idea that this was far from the last time that Ronan would take a feather, or other things, to his skin in that torturous way.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

#the raven cycle #tickle fic #pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch #tickling #trc #fanfic #fanfiction

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Mischief Managed: Riddikulus

Across the United Kingdom, millions of children attend school every day, studying Maths, English and Science, but deep in the Scottish Highlands, a lucky thousand schoolkids get to study Potions, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Whilst the rest of us learn names like Shakespeare, Avogadro and Fibonacci, they learn names like Goshawk, Bagshot and Scamander. Whilst we learn how to do algebra, how to analyse poems and how photosynthesis works, they learn how correctly use a Conjuring Spell, how to brew a Draught of Living Death and how to fly a Nimbus 2000. And naturally, school children will always find a way to misbehave, to get up to no good, to make mischief, but when you add spells, potions and magic into the mix? Let’s just say... they get up to more than just mischief. Welcome to Hogwarts.

hogwarts!au, ot7 x y/n - comedy

Rating: PG15 (brief mention of sex and genitalia, profanity)

Word Count: 3k+

a/n: check the masterlist before you read!! here is the first instalment of my new hogwarts drabble series called Mischief Managed! I really hope y’all enjoy this, lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

silverlightqueen masterlist

Riddikulus (Boggart Banishing Spell)

Type: Charm

Pronunciation: rih-dih-KUL-lus

Description: A spell used when fighting a Boggart, "Riddikulus" forces the Boggart to take the appearance of an object the caster is focusing on. Best results can be achieved if the caster is focusing on something humorous, with the desire that laughter will weaken the Boggart

Etymology: Latin word ridiculus, "laughable" (but perhaps "absurd" or "silly" in this context)

Notes: The effect of the spell seems to rely primarily on the state of mind of the caster. It doesn't actually change the shape of a boggart into something humorous, but rather whatever the caster is concentrating on at the moment of the casting, as when Neville was thinking of his grandmother's dress. Presumably, Mrs Weasley couldn't take her mind off of her fears for her family, so the Boggart was changed into other members of the family rather than something humorous

‘Good morning, students,’ Professor Lupin’s clear and calm voice echoes through the classroom, cutting all conversation short as we look up at the newest teacher to take on the ill-fated role of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. ‘Good morning, Professor,’ we chorus back, watching as he walks down the steps, his dark brown robes billowing out behind him.

The second his foot touches the floor, the wardrobe in the centre of the room shakes, all of us jumping at the sudden noise. We watch as it continues shaking sporadically, its short wooden legs colliding with the worn floor, the noise echoing around the room.

‘Intriguing, isn’t it?’ Professor Lupin asks into the silence, all of us still and watching, waiting for the wardrobe to move again. ‘Would anybody like to venture a guess… as to what is inside?’ Lupin drawls, his words met with a few moments of silence before Kim Namjoon raises a hand. ‘Is it a boggart, Sir?’ he asks, a smile breaking across Lupin’s tired face. ‘Very good, Mr Kim. Can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?’ ‘No one knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the shape of whatever a person fears most. That’s what makes them so…’ Jeon Jungkook trails off, face serious as he looks to Professor Lupin who nods and finishes the sentence for him; ‘so terrifying, yes, Mr Jeon.’

I feel a pair of hands land heavily on my shoulders, making me jump in shock, and I turn to give Park Jimin a dirty look for taking advantage of the tension in the air, the boy giving me a mischievous grin in return. ‘Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let’s practice it now – without wands, please,’ Lupin says, everyone freezing with their hands halfway into their robes, hands falling back to our sides. ‘After me. Riddikulus!’ he says with his chin jutted out, enunciation clear and loud. Everybody repeats after him, a loud chorus of ‘Riddikulus’ ringing out into the air, but I feel a little stupid to do so, and so do the other Slytherins around me, it seems – there is silence from our corner of the group.

‘Very good. A little louder and clearer this time, please, and can we have our dear Slytherins joining in too?’ Lupin says with an amused glance over at us, the rest of the class turning to look too, and promptly looking away when Min Yoongi pushes himself away from the wall, daring them to say something. ‘Listen. Riddikulus!’ Lupin says, and I push down my pride to join the others in repeating after him, ‘Riddikulus!’ ‘This class is ridiculous,’ I hear Jimin muttering behind me, our friendship group stifling our laughs with the sleeves of our robes.

‘Very good. So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing,’ Lupin explains, and despite myself, I’m intrigued to see one of these boggarts in action. ‘Let me show you an example. Hoseok, would you join me, please?’ he says, turning his kind smile to one of my (only) friends in Hufflepuff house. The Hufflepuffs generally aren’t that bad, definitely more bearable than the know-it-all Ravenclaws, though even they’re easy to deal with than the Gryffindors, with their stupid bravery and lack of self-preservation.

Jung Hoseok looks like he might wet himself, his usual sunny persona disappearing and replaced by a pale face and scared wide eyes. ‘Come on, don’t be shy,’ Lupin prompts, and Hoseok’s friends push him forward, the boy stumbling towards the wardrobe. ‘Now, don’t tell us aloud, but just have a think about some of the things that frighten you the most, so you can prepare yourself for the boggart,’ Lupin says kindly, Hoseok nodding nervously as another Hufflepuff, Kim Taehyung, whispers, ‘we’ll be stood here all day; he’s scared of everything.’ Giggles ripple around the room as Lupin leaves Hoseok to think over his fears and comes to stand in front of us.

‘The thing you must remember about boggarts is that they will transform into your worst fear. Some of you may not even know what that is – we’re all scared of bugs and heights and things like that, but what about the things we don’t think about or encounter regularly? There is no way of knowing what your boggart will turn into, because we all have more than one fear, so make sure you are thoroughly prepared to use the incantation as soon as you face the boggart. Understood?’ Lupin says seriously, a shiver running through me as we all nod – no one’s laughing anymore.

‘Right, Hoseok. Are you ready? Have you had a think?’ Lupin calls to the Hufflepuff boy, who nods reluctantly, gulping. ‘Here we go then, wand at the ready. One… two… three!’ Lupin says, waving his wand at the wardrobe, which creaks opens slowly. We all crane our necks to see what’s in there, but it’s dark and there’s nothing to be seen. Hoseok looks like he might faint, the hand holding his wand shaking. And then we hear it; a little hiss.

Before anyone can register it, a snake is slithering out of the darkness of the wardrobe, thick, green and black, leaving a trail of slime behind it as it glides across the floor towards Hoseok, who’s frozen in terror, watching its forked tongue poke out from its mouth, letting out loud and threatening hisses. ‘Think, Hoseok, think,’ Lupin prompts, and the boy seems to wake up, nodding as he lets out a meek, ‘Riddikulus!’ It works, though, and suddenly the snake is transforming into a balloon, the kind that entertainers make at children’s parties, Lupin swiftly grabbing onto the string it’s attached to before it can float up to the ceiling.

‘Are you trying to send us a message, Hobi?’ Yoongi calls to the Hufflepuff, the boy looking considerably less scared as he turns to us with a smile. ‘Yeah. Anyone’d think you’re just as scared of us,’ I grin, the boy laughing. ‘You guys aren’t anywhere near as scary as real snakes.’ ‘Yeah? I’ll show you scary,’ Jimin says threateningly, a small smile on his face, and Hobi rolls his eyes amusedly, grinning as Lupin watches our exchange with interest.

‘Wonderful, Hoseok, fantastic job. Now, can we form a line?’ he says, our classmates sprinting to the front of the line before he can even finish speaking, and I roll my eyes at their eagerness. ‘Come on,’ Jimin says, hooking his arms through mine and Yoongi’s, dragging us towards the middle of the line. Our classmates move out of the way for us, and I thank them with a smile, Yoongi and Jimin exchanging an amused glance; they always tease me for being nice to people, saying it’s unlike a Slytherin, but I beg to differ – I’d say it’s very Slytherin to be nice to people, knowing that being nice gets people to like you, do things for you. The typical Slytherin way is to get people to fear you, but I’d prefer them to love me – it’s better to have people willing to do things for you, though I guess a little bit of fear doesn’t hurt every now and then. I think I’ve found a good balance between the two.

‘You Slytherins. Think too much of yourselves to rush into the queue, and then push in front of everyone else,’ Kim Seokjin says from where he’s stood in front of us with Hobi and Namjoon, the three of them turning to us with big grins. ‘Shut it, Kim,’ Yoongi says with a grin, holding out a fist for the three of them to bump theirs’ against. Jin’s a Gryffindor, one of the very few of them that I can stand to be around for longer than ten seconds, and Jungkook is another, simply because I’ve never laughed more at anyone than I have at those two when they’re together. They’re like a slapstick comedy duo, and I guess they can be nice, sometimes. Considering we’re in different houses, we actually spend a fair bit of time together – maybe too much time. We share nearly all our classes, and Jungkook’s on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team so I see him at practices and at matches, and we all sit together in the Great Hall from time to time, with Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon too.

Namjoon’s a Ravenclaw, and it shows in lessons. Outside of lessons, though? It’s a wonder he's still alive, if I’m being completely honest. The boy is clumsier than anyone I’ve ever met. But he’s kind, and you can actually have an intellectual conversation with him – intellect is something they have in common with us Slytherins. The school’s all about ‘interhouse relationships’ and ‘Hogwarts unity’, and they’re always pushing that stupid agenda onto us, so we’ve got a few friends from other houses – not many though. We Slytherins are an exclusive people.

‘God, Taehyung must have run to get to the front,’ Jimin says, all of us turning to look where he stands in front of Professor Lupin, wand at the ready, face determined. Lupin releases the balloon, the room falling silent as we all watch with interest, wondering what Taehyung’s worst fear is going to be. The boggart turns and spins in the air, a big blur before him, and we all wait with bated breath. And then it turns into Taehyung. ‘He’s scared of himself?’ Hobi asks, all of us looking at each other in confusion. Before we notice that the boggart Taehyung is… morphing before our eyes. His back becomes hunched, his skin sagging and taking on a leathery texture, his healthy dark curls greying and thinning, strands of it actually falling to the floor, his broad and strong body becoming shrivelled and small, and when he smiles, his sparkling perfect white teeth yellow completely and some of them fall out, leaving atrocious gaps. He’s aging.

‘Oh, my God,’ Taehyung whispers, face covered with horror, and we all burst out laughing. His worst fear is aging. As though he can’t bear to look at himself like that again, he calls out the incantation, waving his wand, and the old (ugly) boggart Taehyung becomes a younger, more handsome Taehyung, not like the one we know now – more like a Taehyung in his mid-20s. He’s so handsome I feel myself swooning a little, Yoongi side-eyeing me amusedly as I rub at my nose, trying to cover how much my face has heated up. All of the girls and some of the boys are just as flustered as me, and now Taehyung looks pretty impressed with the effect that handsome boggart Taehyung is having on us all.

He makes his way over to us with a grin, and I instantly shake off my flustered state, rolling my eyes at his smug face. ‘D’you see how handsome he was? I’m betting I’ll look like that in ten years’ time,’ he says proudly, the boys all exchanging amused glances. ‘y/n’ll happy then,’ Jin says with a grin to me, and I nudge him with a scowl, Tae raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Don’t, Tae, I swear, I’ll hex you,’ I say warningly, brandishing my wand at him, and he just holds his hands up, grinning smugly. ‘You’re scared of aging?’ Namjoon asks the question we’re all wondering, and Tae sighs with a roll of his eyes. ‘I’m scared of aging badly. I want to still be handsome and… use my body properly when I’m old,’ he says with a smirk, the double entendre plain, and I can’t help but scowl at him when he turns his amused eyes to me. ‘Please never talk about wanting to still be able to have sex when you’re old. I don’t want to ever picture old you with your dick out,’ I say bitingly, everyone laughing, including Tae, as we picture the boggart we just saw attempting to have sex. I shudder, shaking away the thought.

‘Look, look, it’s Jeon’s turn,’ Namjoon says, our attention turning to the front where Jungkook’s stood in front of Lupin, who holds Jennie’s boggart in his hands – it was a load of bugs before, but she turned them into dumplings. ‘Ready, Jungkook?’ Lupin asks, the boy nodding, before Professor Lupin throws the dumplings up in the air, and they stay up there, slowly transforming into Jungkook’s boggart. It drops to the floor once it’s transformed, and I crane my neck to see what it is, only able to see flashes of metal here and there, my peers all in the way. ‘What the fuck is that?’ Jimin demands, and when I catch sight of it, I burst out laughing, Tae, Jimin and Hobi not understanding why me, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi are practically wetting ourselves with laughter.

‘What is it?’ Tae demands, but none of us are in any state to answer him, Jin rolling on the floor as Namjoon clutches at his stomach, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking as tears run down my face, our laughter echoing around the room. By the time I’ve managed to compose myself, Jungkook’s turned his boggart into a small bonfire, which Professor Lupin is attempting to contain so that it doesn’t set fire to the entire classroom, which is all made out of wood, by the way (I know the school’s old, but it really wouldn’t kill them to do a little refurbishment).

Jungkook makes his way over to us, looking sheepish when he sees the way we’re laughing at him. ‘Don’t laugh – I’m genuinely terrified of them,’ he says embarrassedly, setting us off again, and the three purebloods in our friendship group don’t look too impressed at being left out of the joke. ‘What was it?’ Hobi asks, and Jungkook sighs. ‘A microwave,’ he says quietly, the four of us being hit with another wave of laughter. ‘Why… the fuck… are you scared… of microwaves?’ Jin demands between laughs, and Jungkook looks at his feet, face red. ‘I always have been. They could just blow up at any moment,’ he says in a small voice, and as much as I do feel for him, I cannot stop laughing.

‘Sorry, hold on, I hate to interrupt you muggles and your little inside joke, but what the fuck is a… microwave?’ Jimin demands, and we all shoot him dirty looks. ‘We’re not muggles, Jimin, don’t say that again. We’re just as much wizards as you are,’ I say coldly, and he holds his hands up apologetically. ‘I know, sorry, you know I don’t mean it,’ he says honestly, and I nod, biting back my annoyance. Jimin was raised in a pureblood household, as were Tae and Hobi, but neither of them had quite the upbringing that Jimin did. Slytherin pureblood families are… maybe the worst you can ever encounter – they’re proud, rich, privileged and thrive off their supposed ‘supremacy’. Jimin was always taught that purebloods were the only wizards that deserved to be wizards, that half-bloods were dirty half-breeds and that muggle-borns were an abomination to the wizarding race. Joining Hogwarts, he was exposed to more ‘dirty half-breeds’ and ‘abominations to the wizarding race’ than ever before, and he even became best friends with two half-bloods – myself, and Yoongi. He’s trying to eradicate the views that were instilled in him all his life, and I understand that he can’t help it sometimes, that the words come out before he can correct himself, but that doesn’t stop the way I get annoyed with him. The others control their anger better, and it surprises me sometimes, considering Jin and Namjoon are both muggle-born – I would think they’d get more annoyed than anyone, but they handle Jimin’s stupid comments well.

‘A microwave is an electronic kitchen appliance,’ Jungkook says, the three purebloods looking at him blankly, and he sighs. ‘It’s a machine that cooks food,’ he says simply, the four of us stifling our laughter. ‘So you’re not scared of… I don’t know, getting injured in a Quidditch match, or dementors, or even You-Know-Who, but you are scared of… a machine that cooks food?’ Tae asks, and Jungkook lets out an irritated noise. ‘They can blow up at any moment!’ he repeats, all seven of us bursting into laughter now, and Jungkook sulks for a few moments, his scowl quickly becoming a grin as he joins in with our laughter.

‘Right, students, I’m sorry but that is all we have time for today! Class dismissed! Lupin calls out amongst complaints and grumbles, but I’m secretly relieved; I’d rather not have everyone find out my deepest, darkest fear. We all head towards the door, Professor Lupin bidding us goodbye as we leave. ‘I wanted to find out your guys’ fears too,’ Jungkook says as we step into the corridor. ‘Why? Wondering one of us might be scared of an electrical appliance too? Maybe a fridge? Or an oven?’ Jin teases, the boy shoving him. ‘You’re all teasing me, but Tae’s scared of getting old!’ ‘That’s nowhere near as bad as being scared of microwaves. What is scary about microwaves?’ ‘They can blow up at any moment!’

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darkmindsotome · 4 years

Text

Frozen Jealousy

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Yuzuru Shiba X MC

Word count: 3,046

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. prompt #1: Popsicle licking

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Frozen Jealousy

It had been nearly a month or as a certain someone corrected me three weeks and four days since our last date that had been somewhere other than his place. Work had kept us both busy and I had just returned from a mission that took me to Hong Kong where I had to limit my contact with Yuzu to brief calls. Every time I heard his voice in my ear it made me miss him more. I missed his face and I could practically feel his breath in my ear as I struggled to remain focused on my job.

Now the moment was here where we could spend the day together and I was a bundle of energy. Hugo had given me a simple navy blue halter dress that buttoned all the way up the front. He had discovered it in a small boutique that reworked vintage designs and he said he simply couldn’t not get it for me. We ended up gossiping as he worked his magic styling my hair and doing my make up. In the end, it was almost as if he was more excited about this date than I was. Thanking him I made a dash from my apartment to our meeting place in town.

We said we would meet at a station and then I’d show him around the large park nearby, possibly go around some of its museums or the little zoo. I couldn’t help smiling thinking how adorable it would be to see Yuzu excited about one of the animals. For the length of time he had been in Tokyo it had surprised me when he told me he hadn’t seen much of it apart from the locations he went to for business. Although knowing my gorgeously intelligent boyfriend I really should not have been surprised that he had not looked into sightseeing as part of his relocation for work. He would have said it was an inefficient use of time that could be better spent further developing something at work and written it off as frivolous.

Speaking of inefficient uses of time, I checked my watch and realised that thanks to the catch up with Hugo I had left later than intended and was now running late. Knowing Yuzuru he was already going to be standing there waiting on me. His timekeeping was always impeccable and his schedules were so packed I had to book time alone with him. I shook my head and laughed at myself, what I once found to be so irritating was now simply one more part of the man I loved.

After passing through the ticket barrier I looked around and noticed him leaning against the entrance his hands holding his smartphone reading something completely unaware of the glances and looks he was receiving from the men and women passing by. His black hair shone in the sun like it had been polished and his earring twinkled. I smiled noting he had worn the outfit we had chosen together and not just appeared in his usual turtleneck and suit. The simple grey v neck t-shirt and buff tan leather jacket fitted him like they were custom made it was no wonder why so many people were checking him out. I swear he could wear anything and still look like a model.

“Yuzu!” I called out and waved to him. He turned his expressionless face in my direction slipping his phone into his pocket.

“You’re late.” His cold eyes scanned me like a laser. His voice was much softer than his words, not that I was going to point that out.

“I’m sorry I got held up at home.” Feeling terrible for making him wait even if it was only for a few extra minutes I gave him a rueful smile and apologised.

“Is everything alright?” He pushed off from the wall and came closer looking concerned.

If you had told me this cold, unapproachable and unreadable man could be like this I would have thought you were mad. Now though I knew all too well exactly how wonderful he could be. His words were much harsher than his actions, the chill of his countenance was still there but it protected a very sensitive and passionate man. My man.

“Yes, fine I was just catching up with Hugo and lost track of time.” Realising he had gotten the wrong idea I attempted to explain and was met with a partial sigh and a blank unreadable look after he schooled his expression.

“Mm. Come on let's go.” Yuzu took my hand causing my heart to skip a beat as he began walking briskly with me in tow. All I can say is thank god for training because if I was not an agent used to trying to run in heels, I would be in a lot of trouble right now. I wonder what got into him.

We went through the park gates and found a lot of people enjoying a relaxing weekend. When we had reached a quieter path that ran under some trees near a river he slowed his pace to match mine and stopped dragging me. The sun was high in the sky which felt wonderful but soon had us both showing the effects of the change in temperature.

I kept stealing glances at Yuzuru the fine mist of sweat glistening on his forehead and neck had my mind constantly venturing down the salacious path of remembering our times in bed together. The slip of our bodies together in harmony after becoming one and the way his hands never left me even for a moment as he stripped away my ability to think allowing me to only respond to him physically.

His eyes met mine and a small frown creased his forehead as he looked at me quizzically.

“What?”

“Nothing I was just thinking it's very hot out today.” I spoke quickly trying to ignore the ache that had developed inside me thanks to my rather vivid memory recall.

“Victoria said it is supposed to be the hottest day on record for the year so far.” He didn’t question my choice of topic, he just nodded in agreement adding to it by bringing up his AI invention. Knowing how he despises small talk I started to look around unwilling to test my luck further that he would continue to not notice my flustered state. There was a colourful sign for a small vendor that caught my eye.

“Hang on a minute.” I didn’t give him a chance to reply and darted off to get some refreshments for us both. When I returned, I had two popsicles in hand finding him waiting in the shade of some trees by the water and held them both out in front of him. “What one do you want?”

“I don’t mind I can just have the one you don’t want.” He shrugged as if he found this whole thing a bit pointless. To be honest, it annoyed me. He was so willing to try to please at times he ignored himself. I get he wants to avoid conflict and everything but there are times where he really didn’t have to worry so much.

“Nope, not happening. This is that ‘where do you want to eat?’ situation all over again and you said you would try not to do that again. You know you have preferences so pick one, I won’t be upset even its one I wanted.” I stepped closer still holding both popsicles out in front of me earning me an exasperated frown from him.

“You developed an annoying bug.” He still hadn’t moved to select one it was like he was stubbornly refusing to buckle to my simple demand.

“I’m sure you can find the solution later. Come on pick.”

“Fine.” He huffed and then took one of them from me waiting till I started to eat mine before doing the same. “Happy now?”

“Yep” I beamed a smile at him happy at my small victory.

“I really don’t get you sometimes.” He muttered a small smile playing on his lips that became wet as they wrapped around the popsicle. The flustered mess I was in danger of becoming before came back and hit me full force. The way his tongue came out just far enough to glide over the flavoured ice. How the natural fruit stained his lips in a new shade that had me wanting to taste them myself. I reminded myself that this was supposed to be a date and shifted my focus to my own popsicle hoping the cold treat would put out some of the fire growing in me.

We walked around eating the iced treats after a few minutes I felt something cold on my hand and realised mine was dripping. Without thinking I parted my lips and ran my tongue over the back of my hand chasing the liquid right up the side of the popsicle before putting it in my mouth to give it a hard suck in the hopes of removing enough excess juice from it to stop it dripping again.

I heard him stop in his tracks and when I turned to see what was wrong I nearly choked on the passionate look he was giving me.

“You did that on purpose.”

There was no time to react even if pulling away from him was the last thing on my mind. The sunlight vanished and I could feel the harsh bark of a tree against my back. We each still had hold of the sticks for the popsicles as he pressed himself closer. With the tree hiding us both he placed his free hand near my head effectively preventing escape, everywhere his body touched mine felt like burning.

“Did what?” I had a mind as to what he was talking about. It had only been a simple thing that had unintended suggestions attached to it but I couldn’t resist playing this deliciously dangerous game after being apart for so long.

“If you really don’t know then you’re even more dangerous than I give you credit.” Yuzu leant in covering my lips with his.

“Well, I am a dangerous woman after all.” My lower tone had the sweet kiss turn biting and passionate as his tongue ran along my bottom lip before plunging in to dance with my own.

Hidden from view we continued our little battle. Every kiss given was returned and every breath mingling became as hot as the sun. A soft thump on the ground gave us pause and I could see what was left of his popsicle had slid from its stick and fallen. Mine was probably not far behind it as the sticky sweet treat was melting much faster than before.

A wicked grin spread over his face, a look I knew all too well. It was part challenge part devilish as he took hold of my hand, now covered in melted fruit juice and began lapping it off my skin. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he chased the drips with his tongue and paused only to give small nips and suckling on the inside of my wrist.

He looked at me from upturned eyes, those deep eyes of his drawing me into the bottomless void. Eyes I loved, the dry ice melting only to drown us both in passion. I started to become very aware of how suddenly restrictive this new dress was. My chest was heaving at the sight of the beguiling man in front of me all the things he was doing and all the possibilities of what I knew he was capable of.

“That’s it we’re leaving.” He stood up and pulled away from me, running his hand roughly through his dark hair giving it an unkempt look that was so unlike him.

“Where are we going?” I tried to pull myself together knowing that this was a public space and chastising myself for the fact I didn’t want him to stop.

“I’m fixing those bugs you developed right now.” He nearly growled as he struggled to keep his voice even and clear. I don’t think I’ve seen him like this before, the thrill of this new discovery had my heart racing even more as I allowed him to once more drag me along behind him.

The door to the hotel room that had been hastily acquired by the normally level headed Yuzu hadn’t even fully closed before I found myself locked in his strong arms. His mouth travelling along the nape of my neck as his clean scent like a winter’s night wrapped around me, claiming my senses.

“Mmm…. Ah… Yuzu wait.” I gave a small show of resistance that was certainly not up to my top-level agent credentials.

“Not happening I can’t” He was forceful and demanding, kissing me over and over alternating between soft and hard. His fingers roamed over my contours expertly hitting all the right places with just enough pressure to set my body purring like the engine on his beloved Bugatti.

“But…”

“You are far too good at generating a short circuit in me.” His voice was lower, far more sensual and his attacks were calculated. Not a single wasted motion, as to be expected from Mr perpetually logical with an eye for details and the skills to back up any action he desired.

“What?” Something was bugging me while I didn’t not want this to happen it just felt a little like something was off. Distractions in the bedroom are never a good thing, curse the mind of an agent and that dreaded gut instinct.

“I don’t see you for ages and we can only communicate via phone. That is fine work is work I knew what I was signing up for when I asked you to be mine.” He pushed me to the floor apparently the bed that was only a few feet away was too far. His fingers latched on to the buttons at the front of my dress popping each one roughly before exposing enough of my chest to push his hand up under my bra, cupping my breasts as his eyes burned with intensity. “But then you show up late and use another man as an excuse…”

“Wait! I already told you Hugo isn’t like that he’s…” My words were cut off as he squeezed hard on both my nipples at the same time causing my back to arch against the floor.

“Still a man. I suppose he picked this dress for you as well?” He moved his knee between my thighs with the little movement left to me I tried rubbing his leg with mine only to discover exactly how turned on he was and gasping. His hands don’t stop as they move to my back releasing the clasp on my bra and removing it skilfully as he shoved the top of the dress down to my hips. “And then you tease and torment me with that little display back there in the park.”

“Display?” It wasn’t fair he had me panting like an animal in heat, pinned beneath him and half exposed already while he had still failed to do more than shrug off his own jacket. I wanted him, I wanted to feel him. My hands travelled up to try to get a grip on his shirt to remove it only to be grabbed in his hands and have him guide them for me over the perfectly formed muscles of his stomach, pushing the fabric higher and higher until it was gone.

“You think I would miss such a thing? Or did you think I would be unaffected watching my girlfriend devour a popsicle so suggestively?” He was jealous and while it shouldn’t have been something I liked I actually did. A man of few words who showed even fewer emotions. Never said what he really meant and was hopeless with the human element in life. Yet here he was showing his raw emotions in front of me, my mouth watered as he dipped in to kiss me again.

“Mmm!”

He made quick work of removing my shoes and the rest of my clothing. I didn’t even notice him lifting me up to free the dress and underwear from my hips, my mind was in a total haze. He says I’m good at making him short circuit but honestly, when I’m with him it’s like a total system crash.

“You’re the only one that can make me feel like this.” Unbuckling his belt he slipped free of his trousers and took my hand once more guiding it over to rest on the throbbing hard length of him.

He hovered over me the heat rolling off him and over me making it feel like we were still outside in the baking sun. My hand travelled up his sides and found the same defined muscles on his back, drawing my fingertips over them as I tipped my chin to gain a kiss. As soon as our lips connected, I felt the familiar sensation of his fingers slide between my thighs. They alternated in direction and pressure targeting every nerve he knew would destroy me.

“Oh, God!” I cried out hips bucking against him making him groan into my mouth as he tried to reclaim my lips.

“Damn you’re sexy.”

“Yuzu?” We were both out of breath, panting and burning up. I could barely make out anything as my eyes started to burn with tears.

“I know.” Was all Yuzu said as he took one of my legs and placed it on his shoulder before plunging himself in as far as he could in one motion. “Ngh!”

“Ah!” The pressure from inside told me we were one and that was enough for me to start moving in time with him.

“Mmm ah MC!”

Our mingled breaths and voices filled the room with the scandalous noises of our lovemaking. I knew this would be the first in many rounds. We would talk and he would convince me, taking me over and over again. Matching his pace was all I could ever hope for knowing that this man was a human dynamo. I willingly gave myself over to the pleasure of being with him.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 58

Warnings: profanity, graphic descriptions of blood, violence

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Koen grumbles, as he sits at the table in front of the balcony door, tightly lacing his combat boots. They’re old and scuffed but still do the trick; well worn and trustworthy, having seen him through his last two tours while in active service.

“Well no one asked you what you think, so…” Tyler’s voice trails off as he shrugs into a black utility vest. Slipping it over a tight fitting white tank that will protect his skin from the vest’s harsh material, tightly securing the straps on both shoulders and across either side of his rib cage.

It’s nowhere near as comfortable as the one he’d owned prior; army green, years on the job leaving it riddle with indents left by bullets, knife slices in the fabric, and torn and fraying edges. There’d been something almost comforting about the ‘wounds’ it sported; testaments to all of the injuries -some in places that would have no doubt been fatal- he’d avoided and all the times he’d managed to walk away. He misses the familiarity of it; the weight of the kevlar between the layers, the smell that had clung to it, the various stains that had discolored the cloth. This one is still stiff against his body and still smells new despite the numerous times he’d worn it while working out in the gym. The extra weight adding an edge, a challenge, to even the most strenuous of workout, yet the rivers of sweat he’d shed had done little to leave his scent behind. This vest hasn’t earned its keep yet; hasn’t been put to the test and earned his trust and respect.

In less than an hour it will. It will be ‘do or die’ time. Either keeping him safe or failing miserably.

“You know I’m only on your ass ‘cause I care about ya,” Koen says. “‘Cause I give a rat’s ass about whether you live or die.”

“And I appreciate that, mate. I do. But I’ve been doing this for years. It’s what I do. Who I am. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You think so, do you? When have you ever been in a situation like this?”

“I’m always in situations like this. What do you think mercenaries do? We run into fucked up places and go against fucked up people and we face fucked up odds. And most of the time, we live to tell about it.” He snags an olive green shirt from the army rucksack; two sizes bigger than normal, but adequately hiding the bulk provided by the vest.

“You know what I mean. A situation like THIS. Where there’s a bounty on your damn head the size of Texas. Where it’s your own family that’s being threatened. This Mahajan isn’t playing any games. He’s got the best of the best working for him, and when shit goes down and he figures out you’re behind all of this, the shit’s really going to hit the fan.”

“You act like I don’t already know all of that. Who’s the one that’s new to all this? And who’s the one that’s been doing it for years?”

“You know, for someone that HAS been doing it for as long as you have, you sure are fucking stupid. Sure are making rookie decisions.”

“I work better alone,” Tyler says. “But you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know ‘job me’. You’ve never been around him. Guess you’re going to find out pretty quick exactly who I really am, aren’t you.”

“It ain’t who you are,” Koen argues. “It’s part of who you are. So fuck off with that shit. And I get you’ve been doing this a long time. I get it. I respect it. But I still think it’s a mistake that you’re going into this alone when you’re the one Mahajan wants dead. If you ask me…”

“I’m NOT asking you,” Tyler irritably interjects. “No one is asking you. Now get off my ass. This is how I do things. Alone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”

“I just think…”

“I love you, mate, and I get you’re worried about me, but fuck off. I don’t need a babysitter. No matter what my wife thinks.”

“She’s worried about your stubborn ass too. You wanna go home to her and your kids? ‘Cause you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“You want to still have all your teeth? ‘Cause you’re going to lose a few if you bring up my family again.”

“You call home this morning?”

Tyler frowns. “What did I just say?”

Koen holds his hands up in surrender. “Just asking if you called home.”

“I called last night. Said the things I needed to say. That I should have said a long time ago. Flight left at seven their time; won’t be hearing from them until after they land.”

“And everything’s good? With Esme and the littles?”

“As good as it can be, I guess.” He slips his arms into the sleeves of a baggy hoodie; black and bearing no company or brand logos. Something cheap and simple that won’t show blood and he won’t mind throwing out if he can’t get it clean. He’s not much of a talker before a mission; finding mindless conversations and the sound of other peoples’ voices both needless AND annoying. He prefers to be quiet in that last hour; getting himself into ‘the zone’. Throwing himself into the deep end of his own mind space and psyching himself up; mentally replaying his plans over and over again, each step helping fire up his adrenaline.

“You should at least call and leave a message,” Koen says. “Or a text or something. You know, just in case.”

Tyler ignores him; attaching his holster -gun already secured inside- onto the waistband of his cargo pants. On his right hip, hoodie easily covering it and not leaving a noticeable outline or bulge. SAT phone in one side pocket, personal cell in the other; knife and its holder resting at the small of his back. He’d sharpened it the night before; deadly enough to slice through paper and guaranteeing if the wound is in the right spot, death will be near instantaneous. He would have preferred a slower and more calculated and cold method of killing, but with very limited minutes and space, he needs to be fast and efficient and worry about torture and watching them suffer when he has more time on his hands. That will come; a chance to truly make them pay. And he’s looking forward to it.

“Are you listening to me at all?” Koen inquires. “I said you should…”

“I heard what you said. And I already told you that I called home last night. I talked to Esme, I told her I love her and said all the things I should have said to her a long time ago. I don’t need to call and leave a message, I don’t need to text her. We talked. We said what we needed to say to each other and that’s it. Leave it alone. She’s my wife, not yours. Stop with this fucked up obsession with her.”

“Obsession with her?” Koen scowls. “What the hell you going on about? What…?”

“Look, it was cute at first. I was flattered you thought my wife was hot. I laughed about all the little comments you’d make about what she looks like and what her ass is like and how you don’t understand why she’s with me and how if she wanted a real man, she’d get with you. I was fine with it. The way you flirt with her, the way you look at her.”

“I’m joking around. Poking fun. Yeah, she’s a beautiful woman. And I do think you’re lucky as fuck that you landed someone like her. But no way in hell would she leave a guy like you for me. And as far as looking at her a certain way, what…?”

“Just stop with her. I could take it at first. At first it seemed harmless. But that’s my wife. The mother of my kids. And I don’t fucking like it. How close you’re always trying to get to her. So I’d appreciate it if you’d back off.”

“I think you’re losing it,” Koen laughs. “I think you’re going mental. No one is trying to steal your wife, mate. Especially not me. I’d never do that to you, you should know that. I’d never do you like that.”

“I’d just rather you not do the things you do. Not talk about her the way you do. It bugs the shit out of me. I’ve already had one person try and fuck things up between us. I won’t let anyone else try it.”

“I think you need your head read. Professional help of some kind. Because I have no idea where all that came from or what you’re so fucking insecure about. She ain’t ever gonna be with the likes of me when she’s got someone like you with your pretty blue eyes and your muscles out to next week. It’s obvious as fuck that she ain’t ever gonna leave you. That she loves your dumb, stupid ass for some reason. Must be just as mental as you.”

“You’re going to drive me mental is what you’re going to do,” Tyler retorts, then moves to the door when a pounding -likely from the toe of a shoe or a boot- threatens to shake it off its hinges. Snapping open the deadbolt and removing the chain lock after a quick check through the peephole determines there’s no threat waiting out in the hall.

“How you feeling?” Yaz inquires, as he and Ovi step into the room. “You good? Got your head in the game?”

“My head’s exactly where it needs to be. Not like Koen’s, which is shoved up so far up my ass…”

“He’s in a mood,” Koen interjects. “Being a little bitch.”

“He doesn’t like to talk before he goes out,” Yaz explains. “Too much talk and chatter and noise fucks with his head space; keeps him out of the zone. We realized a long time ago not to say shit to him until it’s absolutely necessary. You’ll learn. We did.”

Ovi nods in agreement.

“Bring me what I need?” Tyler asks.

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” This…” Yaz reaches into the pocket of his black jeans, pulling a flat, silver disk no larger than a dime. “...is how we hear you. Just gotta tap your finger against it to activate it. It’s all charged and ready to go.” He slips a hand through the open zipper on Tyler’s hoodie, attaching the disk -via a small yet powerful magnet on the back[ to the neck of Tyler’s t-shirt. “...and this…” from his second pocket, he removes a listening device; small and kidney bean shaped, moulded out of clear silicone. “...is how you hear me. Just slip this right in your ear. Got it?”

Tyler nods, then plucks the device from Yaz’ palm and slips it into his left ear. A creature of habit; using the same routines and following the same rituals he’d discovered he was most comfortable with during his early days in the game. Each merc has their ‘thing’; lucky underwear or socks, certain meals they’ll consume before heading out, the same song they’ll listen to on repeat to fire themselves up. His ‘thing’ has always revolved around his gear. Putting pieces on in a certain order, cleaning all his weapons TWICE, not engaging in conversation in the last hour leading up. It’s all mind over matter, but it never fails to feel as if it’s giving him an edge. Even a sense of comfort and security.

“Ovi will drop you off at the shipping and receiving door,” Yaz says. “Our inside guy will be waiting. Knock twice so he knows it’s you. He’ll have a key to the freight elevator; take that to the twelfth floor, leave the key on the window ledge. I know you already know all of this, but it calms my nerves to go through it again.”

Tyler smirks. “You’re an odd duck, Yaz.”

“This coming from a guy who puts three shots of espresso in his coffee right before a gig.”

“Could be doing a lot worse. Remember that guy who used to short two lines of coke right before he went out?”

“Lorenzo. Fuck, I forgot about him. Whatever happened to him?”

“Got into a bar fight in Chicago and got fucked up. Last I heard he was running with some rogue crew that works out of New Mexico.”

“That guy was a whackadoo. Makes you look sane and that’s saying something. Now remember, you only have three minutes. That’s it. Wait by the freight elevator until I tell you that I’ve killed the security cameras. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“When you’re done, haul ass. Ovi will be waiting two blocks west. In front of a dry cleaners. You won’t be able to miss him.”

“You better fucking be there,” Tyler warns Ovi. “‘Cause if you leave me hanging, I’ll gut you like a fish next.”

Ovi’s eyes widen, and both Tyler and Yaz burst into laughter at his surprised -and terrified- expression.

“I’m kidding, kid. I’d never do that. I’d beat you ass, But I wouldn’t do THAT.”

“Good to go?” Yaz asks. “Got everything you need?”

Tyler scowls.

“Right...right...I know. I ask the same stupid shit before every job. Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I still think letting him go alone is fucked up,” Koen remarks, still sitting by the balcony door.

Yaz sighs. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Twenty minutes until go time and you’re bringing me this? Now is NOT the time for this. One and two. Gotta take ‘em out. That’s what he’s going to do. Enough of this shit?”

“What if something goes wrong?” Koen asks.

“Something’s going to go wrong in a second when I toss your ass off the balcony,” Tyler snarls. “What is your major malfunction? Do you know how many of these I’ve done? How many jobs I’ve been on? I can fucking take care of myself, mate. You’re only gonna get in the way if you tag along. Let me take care of my shit, you take care of yours.”

“I said I’d keep an eye on ya. This isn’t keeping an eye on ya. Letting you go off on your own.”

“We gotta go,” Yaz says, and yanks a thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “Time’s a wastin. We’re going to miss these guys if you don’t leave now.”

“I’m fine,” Tyler assures his friend. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I’ve been in way more dangerous situations than this and I always came out of them alive. I ain’t breaking that streak now.”

“You fuck up and something happens to you, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again. Hear me?”

“I hear ya,” Tyler says, and then gives a small, almost uncomfortable chuckle when Koen embraces him in front of the others. His tone and face both softening when he tousles what little hair his friend has left on his head. “I’ll be careful, mate. I got this. You and Rata be careful out there. These guys? Mahajan and his people? They don’t fuck around. Watch each other’s backs.”

“Who’s gonna watch yours?” Koen inquires, and Tyler gives him a quick, one armed hug before heading for the door.

“I watch my own.”

***

“Change of plans,” Tyler says, when Ovi pulls the rented SUV into the alley behind the Grand Hyatt.

The younger man’s eyes widen. “Change of plans? No change of plans! Why a change of plans?”

“Did you not fucking notice the police station half a block away from the dry cleaners? There’s no way your old man doesn’t have law enforcement in on this. Remember Asif? Dhaka? Look what he was able to do. And your old man has a lot more power than Asif ever had.”

“We can’t just go and change things,” Ovi protests. “We can’t…”

“I’m the boss. I can do whatever the hell I want. You park and wait for me there, they’ll see me coming. And you can’t tell me that spineless fuck doesn’t have my picture plastered all over the goddamn place. Go two blocks EAST. Not west. Then text me and let me know where you are.”

“This is a bad idea,” Ovi laments. “We should just stick to the plan. We should…”

Scowling, Tyler angrily snatches him by the front of the shirt. “Fucking listen to me! I call the shots and I am telling you to go east. Not west. Just do as I fucking say and then wait for me. Understand?”

Ovi swallows noisily and nods frantically.

“I go anywhere near that police station, I’m fucked. I’ve got a knife and a Glock on me. I don’t stand a goddamn chance if they all start shooting. So do what I say and I at least live long enough to call my kids tonight and read them a bedtime story. Now fucking listen to me and don’t get me killed!”

He doesn’t give Ovi a chance to respond, instead throwing open the passenger door and climbing out; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, head down as he heads for the loading docks and the shipping and receiving doors. It’s better to be safe than sorry; not taking the chance that there’s any outside cameras that can capture a decent picture of him entering the building. His strides are long and purposeful, yet calm and confident; stones, dirt, and other debris crunching and shifting under the soles of his combat boots.

It’s just as easy as Yaz said it would be; knocks being promptly answered, no eye contact made or words exchanged as a single gold plated key is pressed into the palm of his hand as he passes by. And he’s not sure if it’s plain lucky or the ‘inside man’ had arranged to keep other employees out of the area, but it’s oddly quiet and he doesn’t encounter another living soul during his short walk through the bowels of the hotel and to the service elevator.

He’s been on the job long enough that nerves are no longer an issue. Learning long ago that the more relaxed you are and the more you’re able to ‘silence’ your brain, the smoother and easier things will go. Focusing on something other than the task at hand keeps you from dwelling on your game plan, which in turn prevents you from second guessing yourself and switching things up at the last second. That only leads to disaster. He’s seen many a good merc seriously injured and even killed because they thought too much; letting the game fuck to much with their heads and getting an advantage on them instead of the other way around. So instead of thinking of the task mere minutes away, he lets his mind go blank; eyes riveted on the illuminated numbers above the elevator door as it makes it slow, rumbling ascent. Hands still shoved in his pockets as he slowly rocks back and forth on his heels. It’s a habit that ‘new Tyler’ has fallen into an ‘old Tyler’ can’t seem to break; that slight motion of his body that’s comforted many a crying or colicky baby and has gotten them to sleep when all other methods seemed futile. And it works for his nerves as well; taking off the edge yet never stripping away the one emotion he does allow himself to feel. Rage.

“You in?” Yaz’ voice pipes in through the ear piece, and Tyler reaches into his hoodie to tap a finger against the disk attached to the front of his shirt.

“I’m in. On the ninth floor now.”

“Twelfth is clear. You’ll see a cleaning person; that’s one of ours. Got one on each floor preventing other people from leaving their rooms. Let me know when you get off the service elevator and I’ll kill the security cameras. Remember, you’ve only got three minutes.”

“What if they don’t get on the elevator?”

“Do what you have to do. Rooms 903 and 905. Take them out whatever way you have to. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

The elevator comes to a shuddering, rumbling stop; doors shuddering as they slowly slide open. He leaves the lone key on the window sill as instructed, then mumbles a low, drawn out “Fuck” and quickly turns on his heel to face outside when he hears voices -female- approaching from around the corner. He can see their reflections in the glass; young, nearly twenties, their glossy dark hair pulled back into ponytails and their tall, willowy bodies clad in the burgundy and gold uniforms sported by all hotel staff. And they never pause in their loud, animated conversation or even glance in his direction as they wait for the elevator. Seconds seem like minutes; his annoyance growing with each passing moment, an audible sigh of relief leaving his lips when the elevator finally arrives and the women step aboard, doors slowly sliding closed.

“Do your thing,” he says. “I’m good to go.”

“I’m on it,” Yaz responds. “Cameras going down in five...four...three...two...one. You’ve got three minutes. Go.”

Tyler swiftly turns on his heel; feet going from gleaming tile to plush carpet. And he exchanges a quick nod with Yaz’ ‘man’; one hand still shoved in the pocket of his sweater as the other reaches out to hit the button to call the elevator.

“One and two are leaving their rooms now,” Yaz says. “Elevator is two floors above you. No one on it. You’re in the clear.”

“They armed?”

“Can’t tell. Let’s just go ahead and assume they are. Stay on your toes.”

“You doubting my knowledge of this shit, Yaz? You telling me how to do things?”

“I’m nervous. Fuck off, Rake.” It’s always last name only when Yaz gets riled up; his nerves and stress are always on high alert, even when he’s not the one actually out there doing the dirty work. “Two minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, when the elevator finally arrives and Tyler steps on. “Think you can handle this, old man?”

Smirking, Tyler directs a middle finger at the camera he knows is mounted just above the control panels. And he settles himself as that rear of the lift, casually leaning back against the mirrored wall, both hands out of his pockets and arms now crossed over his chest.

“I’d say good luck but I know you won’t need it,” Yaz says. “We’re going silent for the rest of the trip. Talk in a few. Have fun.”

He gives a nod and a tight lipped smile. The adrenaline is at its peak now. Even after all these years it’s a rush; the possibility of the situation turning dangerous, the quick and efficient pace he’ll have to work at. But it’s not the adrenaline that has his heart thundering in his chest or the rush of blood thundering in his ears or his jaw clenching. It’s rage. The knowledge that he’s about to come face to face with pure and utter evil. People that would have done horrible and vile things to his family. His CHILDREN. It’s the desire...the want...the NEED...to take another life.

He recognizes them when they step onto the elevator; faces familiar from the pictures he’s been studying since Anil gave him ‘the list’. And neither pause in their conversation -a mixture of both Hindi and English- but both give him polite smiles and nods, one even offering a friendly “good morning” that he’s hesitant to return but bites the bullet and does anyway. And he briefly looks over his shoulder; quickly studying himself to make sure the rage isn’t as visibly obvious as it feels. Both men have their backs to him; shoulders pressed together, their words and their laughter hanging heavily in the air. And while his eyes study them from head to toe and attempt to ascertain any possible threat or if they are armed, his right hand reaches under his hoodie, thumb sliding through the loop that sits on the top of the knife; fingers curling around the hilt.

“Excuse me for a second, would ya mate?” He asks, then using his own shoulder to push his way between them, successfully creating a gap; fingers reaching for one of the floor numbers before he slams his palm against the stop button.

The elevator gives a sudden, violent lurch and Tyler uses it to his advantage. Throwing his entire body weight into the man on the right, the collision sending both of them into the side wall.. And Tyler slams his elbow into the sternum with enough force to break it; the audible crack and the man’s startled and pained yelp echoing in the small, cramped area. A noise that only becomes shrill and terrified when he effortlessly jams the tip of the knife into the already injured man’s navel, and with a ruthless and vicious upwards yank -one fluid, easy motion- he sends the sharp, glistening blade up to the hollow of the man’s throat. His first victim drops into a heap on the floor; still gurgling and flailing helplessly as he clings to the last shred of life as his own blood and some of his internal organs begin to pool around him.

The fist that’s thrown his way is easy to avoid; his instincts and reflexes are quick and uncompromising. And he’s able to hook an arm around the other man’s bicep and throw him to his stomach; forehead and chest slamming off the blood soaked floor. And he’s attempting to scramble to his feet when Tyler places a knee in the middle of his back; every pound and inch of his much broader, taller, strong frame shoved into every shred of pressure he applies.

“Look at me,” Tyler orders, and when the man below him refuses, snatches a fistful of hair and yanks his head back. “I said fucking look at me!”

The eyes that look up at him are terrified, yet still bear a remaining glitter of deviance.

“You recognize me now don’t you,” Tyler snarls. “Well this is what you get for fucking with my family.”

He slams the knife home just under the left ear. And he can hear the tear of skin, muscle and tissue and the crack of cartilage as the tip pierces straight through. Pausing briefly; allowing the full reality set into the other man’s brain before he quickly draws the knife across his throat. Jamming it in far enough to hit bone when he reaches the other ear; hand still tightly gripping silky, thick hair, gaze never wavering and his rage never subsiding as he watches all life and hope drain from the other man’s face and eyes.

There’s a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he stands; hands steady as he swipes the blade of the knife across one of his thighs, cleaning the blood off of it before slipping it back under his hoodie and into its holder. He’s barely broken a sweat, and he’s eerily calm as he steps through the growing puddle of blood and over the lifeless carcasses; releasing the stop button and then pressing the one for the next available floor.

Tyler checks his watch. There's still a minute and a half remaining.

It feels good to be back.

****

“A minute and a half,” Yaz says in way of greeting, when Tyler strolls into the conference room twenty minutes later; already shrugging out of his blood and sweat soaked hoodie. “Not too bad for an old fuck! Didn’t misplace a hip, did you old timer?”

“Hope I don’t misplace my foot when I put it up your ass,” he playfully retorts, unable to contain the grin that spreads across his face.

It’s one of immense satisfaction. Pride, even. Feeling relief that he hasn’t lost his edge or any of his abilities and he’s only become stronger and faster. Smarter. His skills and his instincts seem sharper than before. And it feels good; the physical act of killing. It’s the first time he’s ever encountered that; enjoying taking a life and watching someone in the thralls of death. But it’s personal this time around. Mahajan never should have threatened him or his wife and his children. Because now he’s going to enjoy every second of sending that message loud and clear: you’ve fucked with the wrong man’s family.

“I will never...EVER...again doubt you, oh wise one,” Yaz chuckles, and then dramatically bows to him. “Made a fuck of a mess of the elevator though. Couldn’t have been more graceful about things?”

“Messier it is, the bigger and louder the message it sends. And thanks, by the way. You almost dumped my ass right by a police station.”

“Yeah, Ovi called me. Told me about the change in plans. Sorry about that, Ooops.”

“Oops? I could have gotten my ass shot on the first day and that’s all you can say? Ooops? How the fuck did you miss that, anyway? You’re usually on the ball when it comes to this recon shit. What the fuck, mate?”

“You know, sometimes I DO screw up.”

“Well don’t screw up when it’s my ass on the line, yeah?” Tyler removes both the earpiece and the transmitter and drops them onto the conference table. “Those little things are a hell of a lot better than those wired pieces of shit we used to have. I’m not fucking choking myself trying to use an ear piece attached to a fucking radio. How’s things? Anyone else check in?”

“Koen and Rata are chasing their guys down. They've given them the slip twice already.”

Tyler smirks, then slips the t-shirt over his head and drops it and the hoodie into a nearby chair. “Rookies.”

“Anil and Nathan are doing some surveillance on the other side of town. Gonna be pissed and jealous as shit when I tell them you’re already done and back. Other than that, there’s not much to tell you.”

He tears the velcro strips open on the one side of the vest; left shoulder and rib cage finally free. Grunting and grimacing at the pain in his right arm when he slips the vest over his head. Then peels off the sweaty tank and uses it to wipe sweat and blood from his face, brow, and neck. Unable to contain the smirk that plays on his lips when he catches sight of the young female tech across the room intently watching him.

“Hey!” Yaz snaps at her. “Focus! That ain’t your prize you’re looking at. He’s married!”

Tyler chuckles, then reaches for a bottle of water from the case sitting in the middle of the table. “Kinda harsh, mate. She’s harmless. She can look.”

“What is it with you and all the thirsty women? They don’t even care about that ring on your finger.”

“I care about it and that’s all that matters. They can be as thirsty as they want. I’m not entertaining it, so…”

“Still disrespectful as fuck. To you, your wife. I mean, you’re married. You’ve got kids, for fuck sake. Means they should back the fuck off. And speaking of married, you hear from Esme?”

“She left me a message before they left. Said she’d call as soon as they got in. It’s a long flight; they won’t be here until at least six.” He both groans and grimaces when he drops into one of the chairs, and then reaches down to untie his boots and toe them off. “I did make a fucking mess, didn’t I,” he observes, as he picks up one boot, then the other, surveying the splatters of blood on the fabric and the already drying mess on each sole.

“Felt good though, didn’t it. To get shit done. To kill the fuckers that we’re going to kill your family. Bet it felt damn good.”

“Even better than I thought it would,” he admits.

“You going to the airport?” Yaz asks.

“Didn’t know it was an option. Thought I was supposed to to stay away. Until I was given the all clear.”

“That’s for when they’re at the house. What harm could come from you showing up at the airport? No one even knows you’re in Mumbai yet. We’d hear chatter if Mahajan was suspicious. If you wanna go…”

“I don’t wanna fuck things up. If someone IS following me…”

“You’d know that by now. Fuck, you’d probably be DEAD right now. And we’ve got eyes and ears on you. I can send a couple of people to tail you, just in case. You’ve got nothing else going on for the rest of that day. You’ve earned your keep. And then some.”

“I could go out and help Rata and Koen chase their guys down. Or do my own surveillance. Take Ovi with me. Teach him something that won’t lead to me getting shot in the head.”

“It’s the first day,” Yaz says. “Relax. You’ve done enough. Take the down time while you can.”

“I could use a shower and a change of clothes. Something to eat. Maybe some sleep.”

“Go to the airport,” Yaz insists. “I’ll have people follow you. I know it’s killing you; being away from your family. It’ll do you a world of good to see them. Even if it is just for a few minutes.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “It would. Wouldn’t mind hugging and kissing my wife and seeing my kids.”

“Your job’s done for the day. Shit is only going to get harder and more intense from here on out. Who knows when you’ll get to see them next. Go clean yourself up. Get some food in you. Some sleep. And then go and see your family. You’re one of the lucky ones, man. You’ve GOT a family that you can see. Don’t take that for granted.”

“That’s something I DEFINITELY have to stop doing.”

“I know they’re probably dying to see you too. Can’t tell me those kids don’t miss their daddy. They’re pretty nuts about ya.”

He grins. “Yeah, I’m pretty nuts about them too. You sure you guys will be okay without me?”

“We’ll manage. If I need you THAT bad, I know how to get a hold of you. Seriously, go and see your family, Tyler. I know you want to. I know you NEED to.”

He nods in agreement, then sighs heavily as he stands up; hand on the small of his back, wince on his face.

“Maybe you did throw out your hip,” Yaz chides.

“It’s my back, you fucking drongo. You know it’s been shit since I had to go and save Gaspar’s sorry ass.”

“You took a bullet an inch from your fucking spine,” Yaz reminds him. “You’re lucky to even be walking. Want me to get you a cane? A wheelchair? Want me to carry you? Need me to help fill out the papers for your old age security?”

“I’m hurting, but I can still beat your ass into the middle of the next week.”

“Judging by the show you put on the elevator, I know that’s fact. That was amazing by the way. Good job. Damn good job.”

“Only gets better from here, yeah? Each one will get a little nastier and bloodier.”

“You sound like you’re actually going to enjoy that,” Yaz observes.

He’s smirking as he picks up his dirty clothes and boots, then heads for the door. “I am.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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docholligay · 4 years

Text

Follow Water Down

I have been wandering around in the woods since I was a small child. My family was not particularly well off, and from the ages of probably 3 to 16, the only vacations we ever took were camping trips. We left the house for the woods nearly every weekend. I live in Montana, and so when I say camping trips, I don’t mean we headed off to the KOA with a pool, I mean if I walked away from the campsite I was in the goddamn National Forest. I was genuinely happy with this arrangement, as I was a strange child who grew up to be a strange adult, and I enjoyed the quiet, the sense of exploration, the smell of the trees.

I began leaving the campsite nearly from the word go, and by the time I was about 8 or so, I was very much off by myself in the woods for the majority of the day, which leads us to our post today. There are people who would call my mom grossly neglectful for having allowed me to do so much on my own at such a young age, and even she gets bashful when she talks about it, but I credit it with a lot of positives:

I have an extremely good sense of direction

I have a strong core of self-sufficiency and am not easily overwhelmed by anxiety

I can be alone in the quiet with my thoughts

I am rough and tumble as HELL, owing to many many many falls down the sides of mountains, huge gashes in my legs, being stalked by a mountain lion, and one very memorable miscalculation that ended in me falling off a (small) waterfall

When I meet my fear, I can master it*

So what I am here to present to you today are very basic survival skills such as I would teach my own child, such as I was taught as a child. This is by no means comprehensive, and if you intend to get seriously into outdoor life, I recommend both doing far more research, and taking a a Wilderness First Aid class, which are frequently offered when it’s NOT Covid, and which I take about once every 3-5 years (I am due). This is a primer for those who are young, or new, or mostly want to experience the wilderness by reading about me doing it.

Follow Water Down.

I cannot remember how old I was when I learned this. It’s the sort of thing that is a part of my makeup, my mother must have told me when I was only a toddler and its stuck with me so hard that it’s one of the first things I tell people.

If you are lost:

Water will always lead you back to civilization eventually. Join up with the stream. See which way its going. Go that way. This is obviously not significantly helpful if you are lost in a flat desert plain but then again, I did start this by saying I was a child of the woods and not the desert. This seems like such an easy trick that people often ignore me when I say it, but it is the simplest thing for a child to remember.

I can’t remember how old I was when I got lost in a tangle of hills and mountains in the Little Belts, where the trail faded but I kept going in my normal bullheaded way. But I was well and truly lost by the time it was about 3 pm, and in some ways I wish I had worn a step tracker back in those days because I am extremely certain I went miles and miles, as one does when they leave immediately after breakfast and don’t come back till dinner. I had no idea where I was, where the campsite was, or what direction I should be going.

I was not thrilled.

But I was not a kid who sat down and cried, in that I had smaller concerns before, and so could easily grow to meet the larger ones. I simply walked down the mountain, knowing a valley was more likely to have a stream I could easily join. Lo and behold, there in that little valley was a snowmelt creek, and I followed it downstream, knowing eventually there would be a house, or a campground, or something. In a twist of glorious good luck, it actually led me back toward where the campsite was, and as I began to recognize things, I easily clipped into our campsite long before any sign of trouble.

Follow Water Down. If you aren’t near a stream, head for the nearest valley, and follow the valley. This will generally lead you to water. People will tell you to stay put and that is WAY smarter than wandering aimlessly in circles, which is why I say to follow something. You think you won’t go in circles, but you will. By following a streambed, not only are you doubtlessly heading back to civilization on a long enough timeline, but you keep yourself from doing that.

Your Pack:

Before you go out for the day, you should have a simple day pack. Mine is an Osprey Hikelite 18, but I hike all the time, and you don’t need something that technical. A plain ol Jansport will work as long as it fits you well. I do however, really approve of and recommend a waist clip. I also think a pocket for a water bottle on the outside is really useful, but you’re not going to fucking die if you have to take off your pack to get to your water bottle. I just find it takes up space I don’t want.

Gear:

More important than your pack itself is what you have in it. Again, this is according to people named Doc, who are me. This is stuff I always take with me when I am by myself, on a trail where it would be realistic to assume I would not see someone else for hours. This is like 95% of Montana trails, or any time that I am off trail.

Compass. You can get fancy, pretty compasses, but a lot of times they lack the actual essentials you need. I like this guy, which is well made, can be clipped to you backpack easily, and is inexpensive. I don’t have the time or space to really try to teach you how to use a compass, but here’s a really good simple primer from the American Hiking Society.

Paper Map. I sometimes break this one, admittedly, but I shouldn’t. Having a paper map of the area is always a really smart practice, and used in combination with the compass, can help you get unlost quickly, or at the very least give you an idea of how close to any given outpost you are.

Water Bottle. Please don’t tell me you were going to attempt to leave without this. I have no preferences on one, shockingly, and I’m being serious. I’ve been given to use an old disposable one, who gives a shit.

Water Filter. Now THIS I did not have as a child, because my parents didn’t know any better, but if I follow in the grand tradition of my people and release my child into the mountains, I will give them one for certain. I knew what kind of water to look for if one was going to drink from a stream, and I did so, which probably explains why I am not susceptible to ~tummy upsets~ to this day. However, it would have been smarter for me to have one of these. I like LifeStraw but Sawyer makes a perfectly good one. Look for lightweight, it’s a day pack, kids.

Knife. I have many many feelings about knives, which would require its own post, but this is fairly essential for being out and about. This is not a thing I would necessarily cheap out on, though there are fine options at most price points. This is my knife:

The Gerber Propel AO. The serrated and straight blade edge means there’s a lot of options for use as a tool, I find the blade to be strong and hold an edge well. Most American-made Gerbers (be sure and check, as they have a much shittier Chinese-made division) are incredibly well made knives. Leatherman multi-tools and Swiss Army Knives are, if you ask people named Doc who are me, a waste of weight and size, but if I were to buy a Leatherman, it would be a Free K2X. I would not buy a Swiss Army Knife.

A jacket/fleece/pullover. Listen, i am the last one who wants to carry this shit but if you get lost overnight (as has never happened to me, kinehara.) you are going to want it. Read up on what the lowest temperatures are, and rate it to that. Depending on what mountain you are in, this is going to vary widely. And for the love of god, wear pants. I know, I know, it’s in the 70s and you’re hoooooooot but seriously, you’ll be less likely to injure yourself and you won’t fucking freeze.

Flashlight/headlamp.

There are fancy firestarters, but honestly I just throw in a bic.

Food! Clif bars are great for this, lightweight, high calorie, keep well. this is in addition to your sandwich or whatever you’re packing for planned eating.

Sunscreen/bug spray. Don’t be stupid.

Whistle. Three sharp shot blasts is the easy and international sign for help.

FIRST AID KIT this has its own thing. A first aid kit can be very basic to very intense. Our group first aid kit is more intense, but when I’m stuffing a day pack, I want stuff that’s light.

Ibuprofen

Bandages

Gauze

Leukotape

wound wipes/antibac

Imodium, benedryl, caffeine

Oxycontin. This is leftover from long ago and basically exists in case I break my leg and have to drag myself out of there, or, as we like to say, a Worst Case Scenario.

That’s it! It essentially fits in a bento box.

You will want to be wearing a sunhat of some sort, sunglasses at hand, and a watch. Not a smart watch, a watch watch. It’s good to know what time it is, better to know that after your phone dies. Attach bear bells to your pack, or your shoe, or something. You do not want to surprise a bear, that is how people die.

You may notice that I do not have a phone, external battery, GPS tracker or anything like that listed. GPS trackers are not a bad idea if you want to invest the money in backcountry--my wife has one--but I never have and I do not consider them essential. Phones and external batteries are not useful to me, and in the places I go there’s often not service. If there IS service, I find I’m more irritated than not by the people with me, who often can’t pull their faces out of telling their audience how much of a life they have to actually have one. Be alone with your fucking thoughts for once.

Which leads me to my next thing: DO NOT WEAR HEADPHONES TO HIKE OH MY GOD. Being able to hear what’s going on around you is key to safety, and also to allowing you to get your bearings. If you are listening to music or something, you are far more likely to sneak up on something, or allow it to sneak up on you. Don’t do it. It’s a terrible idea.

Should I bring bear spray? This is an excellent question! We have ample bear spray, and I often wear it but I just as often wear Montana Bear Spray (a gun). It’s easier to practice with a gun, I feel more sure of how to use it, and I’m comfortable around it. That being said, this is not the story for most of America, and I understand that. So make sure you are VERY familiar with how to use your bear spray.

I suppose this went off the rails into supplies more than “tips for survival” but honestly I would rather help you all AVOID trouble than help you out of it. It’s easier to pack clif bars than set a rabbit snare, and its easier to not get lost than it is to build shelter. Also, this is already at 2,000 words, so if you have a SPECIFIC question, let me know!

*Apologies to Phillip Pullman, but if I were going to get anything from HDM tattooed on me, this sentiment would be it, the only problem being the actual line is “You ent afraid are you?” “Not yet. When I am, I shall master the fear.” which doesn’t look as good but damn has that resonated with me since I read it.

#That was Oddly Specific #Holligay is 34: The celebration

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apriorisea · 4 years

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BTS Imagine: When You’re Sick - Jimin

Sinking to your knees weakly, you reach out to flush the toilet. You groan as you feel your stomach churn again---throwing up was absolutely your least favorite thing to do. You hated it. You would do literally anything to avoid throwing up. And yet here you were, 3:07 in the morning, hunched over the toilet and doing the thing you hated most in the world.

You hear the bathroom door open just as your stomach heaves again and you lean over the bowl, tears stinging your eyes. “Oh, babygirl,” Jimin says softly, and you feel him pull your hair back from your face. Holding it in a messy ponytail in one hand, he rubs your back with the other. “It’s okay, you’re okay...” As soon as you can, you straighten, flushing away the mess again. You reach up to wipe at your eyes and do a quick systems check; deciding you were okay for just a moment longer, you start to get to your feet. “Easy,” he says, releasing your hair to wrap his arm around your waist in support. “You ok?” “Need to rinse my mouth,” you mutter, heading for the sink. He helps you get there and once again holds your hair back while you swish a mouthful of water, trying to rid yourself of the reminder. “How long have you been up?” he asks, one arm wrapped tight around your waist to keep you upright. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” You laugh bitterly and spit the water out. “Didn’t really have time to do anything but get to the toilet,” you say tiredly. “And I’m sure the first thing you want to do is join me while I’m throwing up everything in my stomach.” Straightening, you turn to face him, trying to put on a brave smile. He frowns, reaching out to gently push your hair away from your pale face. “What did you eat? Do you think it’s food poisoning?” You shrug, but soon the sharp cramps in your stomach guide you to your answer. “Maybe. ...Are you feeling okay?” “Yes. Oh, babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He leans down to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Do you want to go back to bed?” You hesitate for a moment, trying to decipher how you’re feeling: though your stomach hurts, you don’t seem to be in immediate danger of throwing up again. “Yeah. You should get back to sleep, babe, you’ve got work tomorrow.” “I don’t have that much work,” he says immediately. “I’m just worried about you.” “It’s okay. I’ll get over it...” you reassure him, turning away to head back to the bedroom, but before you can take two steps, he scoops you into his arms. “Jimin, what--?” He cradles you against him, easily carrying you back to the bed and setting you down softly. “Just relax,” he says, leaning over to kiss your forehead again. You see his concerned expression just briefly before he forces a cheerful smile. “I’m going to go get a bottle of cola,” he explains. “I think that will help settle your stomach. I’ll be right back!” While he’s gone, you lean back in bed, settling gingerly against the pillows and resisting the urge to groan at how much your stomach just hurts. Reaching for your phone, you type a short email to your professors, explaining that you wouldn’t be in class the next day, then set your phone aside. It’s too close to midterms for this... Jimin appears just then, carrying a bottle of cola, a bottle of water, and a bottle of sports drink with him. “What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, frowning at the obvious pain on your face. “It just hurts,” you say, rolling onto your side and curling into a ball. He sits on the edge of the bed, his distress apparent. “What can I do?” Setting the three bottles on the nightstand, he grabs at the sweatshirt fabric at your hip. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” Both arms still wrapped across your stomach, you manage a reassuring smile. “No.” “But---” “If it’s still this bad tomorrow, then maybe we can go,” you interrupt him, reaching out to put your hand on his leg. “But right now I just want to...” “Rest,” he finishes for you. Reaching out, he softly strokes your face. “Okay, babygirl, okay. Here.” He grabs the bottle of cola and opens it carefully. “Try a sip of this.” With his help, you manage a few swallows of soda. “Thanks.” You smile at him weakly. “Hopefully this will kill whatever I’ve got.” He sits back a little, pushing his hair absently out of his face. “Yeah...” “Hey.” You wait for him to look back at you. “I’m all right. Come lie down, go back to sleep.” As soon as he meets your eye, his cheerful positivity is back. “All right, all right, just a second. First, is there anything I can get for you? Something that will make you more comfortable?” When you shake your head, he frowns slightly. “Are you sure?” You nod, grimacing slightly as your stomach cramps again. “I just...just gotta get through the worst of it.” He’s definitely not happy about it, but he accepts your diagnosis. Leaning down, he spreads a few soft kisses across your forehead and temple. “You will. I’m right here, okay?” Standing up, he fixes the blanket over your feet. “I think it’s a good sign that---” Before he can finish, you kick the blanket off and roll off the bed, stumbling for the bathroom once again. You don’t even bother to turn on the light, heading straight for the toilet in the dark. As you make it to your target, the lights suddenly burst to life, and in seconds you feel Jimin gathering your hair again. This time he doesn’t say much: he simply holds your hair back and keeps a careful grip on your waist. You’re left exhausted, and when you move to sit on the floor to rest for just a second, he moves with you. Instead of collapsing against the toilet seat, you’re pulled into his arms, where he does his best to keep you off the cold tile floor while you recover. Pressing his lips to the side of your head, he murmurs, “I guess I spoke too soon.” You’re too worn out to do anything but nod slightly. With how hard you always fought not to throw up, you forgot how much it takes out of you. He kisses your temple again. “Ready to rinse your mouth?” You agree, but before you can even move, he’s getting to his feet with you still cradled in his arms. He carries you over to the sink and sets you gently on the counter, turning on the faucet to a comfortable temperature. While he waits for you to swish the water around your mouth, he’s constantly touching you, squeezing your knee or rubbing your back or tucking your hair behind your ear, little gestures that betray how worried he is. When you finally feel a little refreshed, you lean back against the mirror tiredly. “I hate throwing up,” you say flatly. This causes the corner of his mouth to tilt up just slightly. “I know, babygirl,” he commiserates, grabbing your hand and pressing your knuckles against his lips briefly. “Just...ugh, it’s the absolute worst way to...to get rid of things,” you continue, your eyes closed pitifully. This brings an actual laugh, which makes you feel just a tiny bit better. He kisses your cheek. “I believe you.” You open your eyes to study him. “I can’t believe you’re even able to be around me right now,” you say. “This is pretty disgusting. I’m pretty disgusting.” Clucking his tongue, he tucks your hair behind your ear again. “You’re pretty,” he corrects, then grows more serious: “And very sick.” “I really hope it’s not a stomach bug. You probably should stay away from me, just in case.” “No chance. I’ll be fine. What can I do for you?” “Jimin.” “Do you want to go lie down again? Or...?” A tiny bit of his concern bleeds through. “Do you want to stay in here?” You study him again. He was so protective of you---so overprotective at times---that you could easily see how he was spinning this from a simple case of stomach flu or food poisoning into something much, much worse. For all of his pretending, he was a worrier---just like you. Smiling faintly, you reach for his hand again. “I think I’m going to sit here for just a second longer. Just...just to be sure. You can go lie down again, if you need to?” Squeezing your hand, he eases himself on the counter next to you somewhat defiantly. Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to change his mind, you sigh, but can’t deny how much you like having him near you. You lean back against the mirror, letting your thoughts drift while you waited to see what your stomach was thinking. “I hate how weak it makes me feel,” you admit after a second. “Like...I’m just exhausted, but I didn’t even do anything, you know?” “You did do something,” he defends. “Throwing up is really hard on the body. You’re allowed to feel a little exhausted and ‘weak’.” You nod. There’s a pause, then: “...I bet it was that eggroll my study partner brought in this morning. I knew I shouldn’t have had a bite.” Your stomach gurgles at the mere mention of the food. “You should text her right now, see how she feels.” There’s a faint glimmer of pettiness behind his suggestion, another symptom of his over-protectiveness showing through. Slapping his leg weakly, you shake your head. “I’m sure she feels just as miserable as me.” You look over at him. “Except worse, because she doesn’t have you to take care of her.” Your stomach lurches suddenly and you lean forward, waiting to see if you needed to hurry back to your old friend once again; he sits forward with you, his expression concerned. After a moment, you sit back. “I’m okay. False alarm.” Nodding, he continues his forward motion, disappearing from the bathroom for just a second. When he returns, he has the bottle of yellow sports drink with him. “We need to keep your electrolytes up,” he explains, handing it to you. “Keep you hydrated.” He notices your glum expression. “I know you don’t like the yellow kind, but we don’t have anything else. I’ll go out in a few hours and get you more.” “No, I---” You shake your head and reach for the bottle. “You definitely don’t have to do that. The yellow is just fine. I just...I don’t want to drink anything right now, you know?” He caresses the side of your face. “Yeah, I know. But still---” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you agree, guzzling some of the drink and showing your own slightly petty side. When you finish, you realize how much you want to lie down. “I think I’m ready to go back to bed. My stomach’s pretty calm for right now.” He nods and immediately moves to scoop you into his arms again. “Why---?” “This,” he says, holding you against him carefully, “is non-negotiable.” Looking into your face, he smiles slightly. “Come on, just let me take care of my babygirl, ok? I can’t make you magically stop throwing up, but I can do this.” You give in easily, hating to admit how much you liked being babied by him but comforting yourself with the fact that it also helped soothe his own nerves. He sets you down just as carefully as before, kisses your cheek, and then crawls on the bed next to you. You try to find a position that doesn’t aggravate you more while he gingerly reaches over you to turn off your bedside lamp, then reaches for his phone. After a second, the quirky intro of one of your favorite podcasts plays and he leans back against the headboard next to you. He smooths a strand of your hair back, then shifts to gently stroking your face, absently tracing your eyebrows as the sound fills the room. You let your eyes close at the familiar touch. “Is this a new episode?” “Last week’s,” he explains, keeping his voice soft. “So it’s still kind of new, but not new enough to keep you from sleeping.” “Ah. Smart.” He responds by leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Go to sleep, babygirl. Just relax as much as you can. I’m right here.” “I know, Jimin,” you agree, relieved to feel the cramps in your stomach ease up enough that you can feel sleep pulling at you. “Thank you.”

90 minutes later, you’re woken by the familiar, unpleasant feeling in your gut. You bolt upright, swinging your feet out of the bed in a hurry; you’re so focused on getting to the bathroom, you don’t even notice the way Jimin wakes in an absolute panic. As you kneel in front of the stupid toilet yet again, you miserably realize that this was going to be one of those elongated moments, where your body was going to drag out the inevitable for as long as possible. Groaning, you close your eyes and wish for it to be over. “It’s all right, babygirl,” you hear his soft, exhausted voice behind you. “I’m so sorry.” While you’re waiting, he starts braiding your hair; it’s messy, but the style keeps your hair out of your face well enough. He massages the small of your back. You go to shake your head, but feel your stomach lurch at that exact moment, and any comment you had in mind evaporates immediately. When you’re done, he carries you back to the sink, waiting patiently for you to rinse out your mouth before carrying you back to bed. He makes you drink more of the sports drink, then tucks you back in. This time, you cuddle against him, needing his comfort more than your space. “I hate this,” you complain to the darkness. He hugs you closer. “I know.” Then, “....Do you want to go to the hospital?” You sigh. “No. It just sucks, that’s all.” Kissing the top of your head, he murmurs an agreement.

You wake up to throw up 2 more times before you’re finally able to fall into a deeper sleep. When your eyes open again, you look first at the clock: 8:36am. Your gaze automatically goes to the man next to you, who’s slowly waking up at your movement. “Jimin---work?” you say worriedly, trying to blink the exhaustion out of your eyes. “What---” He shakes his head, sitting up partially. “Don’t worry. Are you okay?” He’s instinctively getting ready to guide you to the bathroom once again. “I’m not going to throw up right now,” you answer. “Do you know what time it is?” He glances at the clock. “Not time for you to be awake yet,” he answers mildly. “You haven’t had enough sleep, not even close.” Seeing your concern, he fixes a strand of your hair. “I’m taking the day off. Don’t worry, babygirl. How are you feeling?” You take a moment to consider his question. Though you were feeling a little better, your stomach still felt sick and every muscle in your body was exhausted. “I’m....a little better,” you try to answer truthfully and hopefully. “Really?” he asks intently, searching your face for the truth. “Yeah. I’m just...worn out. Not even just tired, but....you know, worn out.” He nods and starts to climb out of bed. “I know.” “Wh---where are you going?” you frown, struggling to sit up a little. He tiredly pulls on a sweatshirt and looks for a hat. “The CU. You need more sports drink.” “Jimin...” “Shh.” He grabs one of his masks from the dresser and comes over to kiss your forehead again before sliding it on. “Is it the red kind you like, or the blue?” You exhale softly. “Either.” When he gives you a look, you add, “No, really! Anything but yellow, truthfully. But I know you’re exhausted. Just come sleep a little longer, I don’t need anything right this second.” He squeezes your hand and you can see his smile even behind his mask. “I’ll be back as soon as i can. Call me if you need anything, ok?” Before he leaves, he turns on the TV, knowing how much you hate complete silence. Pressing his hand to his masked mouth, he gives you a small flying kiss and leaves. You’d only been alone 12 minutes when your phone starts ringing. Still curled on your side, you pull your gaze away from the morning news and glance at your phone screen. Frowning slightly, you see Hoseok’s name on the caller ID. “Hello?” “How are you???” he asks immediately. The intensity in his voice startles you. “I’m--I’m okay. Not feeling great, but---” “But you’re okay??” he demands. “Well...yes---” His relieved sigh rushes over the line. “Oh good. I’m gonna kill Jimin, he made it sound like you were on death’s door.” So protective. “Well, you know how he is,” you sigh. “But I’m really okay. Think it’s a little bit of food poisoning.” “Ugh,” he hums sympathetically. “That is the worst. Do you need anything?” “Just to get over this bug,” you sigh. “Well, you make sure that he’s working hard to take care of you!” he says, and you can hear the fond smile in his tone. “If not, you can send him back to us, we’ll straighten him out.” It makes you smile, too. “Sounds good. Thanks for checking, Hoseok. Sorry about the panic.” “It’s fine,” he shrugs it off easily. “You’d think I’d know by now...” “You really would,” you tease. “I’ll talk to you later.” “Feel better soon!” he says cheerfully, and the line goes dead. 30 seconds after the call ends, you hear Jimin open the front door. When he appears in the doorway to the bedroom, he’s carrying a plastic bag filled with sports drinks. Pulling his mask off, he gives you a smile. “How are you?” “Still the same.” You hold your phone up. “Just talked to Hoseok.” “Oh?” he asks distractedly, pawing through the plastic bag. “Did you infer that I was dying or something?” He looks up quickly, and you can see from his expression that he’s guilty. “No! Well, I...not dying, definitely not, but...You were so sick last night, babygirl, you had me really worried.” You smile fondly, your exasperation fading. “You took really good care of me, babe,” you say. “Thank you.” Setting the bag on the foot of the bed, he sits next to you, leaning over to kiss your forehead for a long time. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well. We’ll get you through this.” He reaches for the bag with one hand, his eyes never leaving your face. “I got all the non-yellow sports drinks I could find!” This makes you laugh. “Then I’ll be better in no time!” He strokes the side of your face tenderly. “I hope so, babygirl. But I’m here until then.” Before you can respond, you feel your stomach twist and you start to sit up. “Lucky you,” you manage, before racing to the bathroom once again. You know without even having to look back that he’ll follow you, protecting and taking care of you once again.

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts clean imagines #bts #non-smut #bts fluffy imagines #fluffy #bts imagine jimin #jiminie #jimin

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moralanxietystudio · 4 years

Text

Buried In Words - Roadwarden Devlog

(Roadwarden is an illustrated text-based RPG in which you explore and change a hostile, grim realm. It combines mechanics of RPGs, adventure games and Visual Novels, and you can now wishlist it on Steam!)

Since the middle of December, working on Roadwarden is mostly about writing new events, dialogues and quests. There were almost no updates on social media - I don’t have time to draw (aside of some inventory icons), and by popular demand, I try to avoid deeper spoilers. I’ve written quite a bunch of stuff, but the results won’t do for exciting screenshots.

I’m currently focused on designing and filling up Howler’s Dell, the largest settlement in the game, so there’s a LOT of important character interactions to introduce, including quests, merchants, and lore. But in the meantime, some major changes have also been introduced:

1. The game over screens

In the original Roadwarden’s Design Document, there were no game-overs. You could get significantly hurt during your journeys, but never to the point where you’d hit a brick wall that would make the further progress impossible. You’d need to rest and heal your wounds to participate in some events, but you could always move forward.

I’ve finally decided to change it. In most situations, reaching 0 HP won’t result in an instant death. But in some scripted encounters - usually when facing an overwhelming opponent while being completely unprepared - your character will be broken.

Still, I hope to make it as player-friendly as possible. Did you forget to save your game? Was autosave ran in an inconvenient spot? You can jump back in time a bit, no strings attached.

In various European cultures, the winged hourglass is an image related to the ephemerality of life, and it has became an important part of the Viaticum fantasy setting over ten years ago. Since there’s no single “canonic” design, I’ve had an opportunity to experiment with various approaches.

2. New “regular” font

The text has now more space to breathe, the letters have more personality, and thanks to the serifs, it’s going to be easier to keep track of the lines you read. Everybody wins:

While the majority of feedback that I’ve gathered shares my enthusiasm, I’ve also seen some words of criticism. It’s still possible that the font is going to be replaced with a different one, but I’m convinced it’s still a step in the right direction.

Even if the font is going to be replaced again, this little feature will be kept in the game. The good old “select a font” setting now showcases a small frame that explains the most significant traits of the regular font and the pixel one. Even though the pixel font looks cool on screenshots, it won’t be gentle on your eyes.

3. Updated inventory menu

From now on, pointing at an icon in your inventory will showcase not just the item’s brief description, but also its name.

This update was essential due to the constantly growing number of items added to the game. Usually, the player will keep using or loosing some of them as they complete more quests or take a part in more unique interactions, but you may reach a point when you’ll see a couple of dozen of icons at once, and they may start to get a bit blurry. When there was maybe 20 items in the entire game, clicking an icon to see the broader description wasn’t a large problem, but it became clear that it was a short-sighted, flawed design.

4. Redesigned armor system

I’m not gonna lie. The gambesons that were present in the demo? They were a placeholder, waiting for a better idea to show up. And here it is.

The original two “types” of armor were related to the character’s class selected at the beginning of the game - the Warrior gets the good stuff, while both the Scholar and the Mage have a piece of trash, since they couldn’t afford anything better.

I was expecting to introduce some encounters “better” armors later in the game, and also script interactions where the better armors help you survive major injuries or even death, but I felt it was not good enough. This approach doesn’t introduce much decision making, and it introduces sort of a boring stagnancy.

The new system offers three “levels” of armor. The level 1 - “A Worn Gambeson” - offers you little to no protection. If you want to be saved during some difficult encounters, or maybe get less hurt when you screw up, you want to get to at least the level 2 - “A Decent Gambeson” - which is given to the Warrior class at the beginning of the game.

Upgrading armor requires getting in touch with a tailor, and paying them to do some fixes for you. However, when the armor “saves” you, it often also gets damaged. Its level decreases.

The 3rd level of your armor - “A Fine Gambeson” - follows the same rules. Wearing it will save you from most wounds, but during this process, it may also get torn, downgraded to level 2. As the player, you have to decide how many dragon coins you are willing to invest to keep yourself in one piece.

So simple, yet so much better. And I can still decide to introduce levels 0, 4, 5... Depending on what will turn out to fit the larger picture.

5. Updated journal menu

The journal has received the very needed scrollbars, which appear only when there’s too much text to fit in a single window. From now on, I don’t expect that the player will just “figure out” that they can use a mouse wheel, or drag the text box. Nice and easy:

Also, when you select a chapter (like “Quests”) or a specific entry (like the “Necromancers?” quest), the button is now highlighted, what will help you keep track of what you’ve been clicking through:

Also, unlike in the game’s demo, the “People” chapter is now cohesive with the “Quests” formatting. Originally, these sections had different sizes, what didn’t look as good as I intended.

6. Dolmen updates

Just to make it clear - the game receives a whole bunch of updates and bug fixes every week, and I don’t plan to list dozens of small adjustments just because. But this one is pretty fun for me, since it shows the progressing level of attention to detail, and the evolution of the game’s design. : )

Since the day I’ve introduced this area to the game’s prototype, I was unhappy about the low amount of visual changes it had to offer. No matter what you’d type down to solve the puzzle, the only clues you’d receive were presented in text.

The updated dolmen required some rewrites and a fair bit of drawing, but from now on, once you find something that provides a significant clue, you’ll also see a visual feedback that’s going to reflect your discovery. It will help you backtrack the older information, and focus your attention on more successful guesses. Oh, something new has showed up? I guess it’s important!

7. The world map reworks

Some of those updates are difficult to spot without a looking glass. Some percentage of the “bushes” have different colors now and a couple of new shapes; the forests and trees now cast shadows; the lake nearby the Southern Crossroads has more details; the river in the east is broader; there are new hills nearby Tulia’s Camp...

But it’s the eastern part of the map that has seen some major updates. It’s filled with hills and mountains, and because of it, it provides more limited vision than lands in the west, covered with plains and swamps. Previously, this disproportion was quite a bit larger, and I’ve decided to town it down a bit. I hope that the effect I’ve had in mind is still clear to spot.

8. More “stable” text boxes

When the player points at an icon, it usually creates a text box with a related description. From now on, more of these text boxes will be anchored to specific parts of the screen, instead of showing up in an area related to the player’s cursor. It should make the information less chaotic, and won’t cover other icons anymore. Also, there will be no more situations when the text box is partially outside of the game’s window.

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

Thank you for taking a look at this devlog, for your support and kindness. Remember, you can also find me on Twitter and Facebook, and the game has a Steam page on which you can add it to your wishlist. Have a great day!

#pixelart #rpg #fantasy rpg #pixel art #indie #Indiegame #indie dev #video game #gaming #pcgaming #visualnovel #visual novel #Adventure Game

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 5 years

Text

Silver Bells

Summary: Richie is sick and tired of being badgered about relationships at his family Christmas parties. And his idiotic cousin always brags about his girlfriend. So when in need of a fake boyfriend to stop the annoyance, Eddie’s name comes out.

Words: 9,774

Ships: Reddie

Stanley Uris lightly dragged his pencil down the side of the worn out pages of his bird book, passing the bushels of color from the photos. A thin feather-light gray line followed in it’s path alongside the faded dark brown framing of the particular page. He grinned, a kind man’s grin, and hoped to himself that once winter ended he would get to see a lot more birds again. The distant chatter of the dinner customer crowd was just as foggy as his table’s paired window. The snow falling down tapped almost silently against it and left a delicate layer of moisture perfect for finger drawn doodles. Surrounding the view was a strand of tiny bulbs of Christmas lights. It was all very warm and welcoming, enhanced by the smell of home cooking. Stan enjoyed his job there and was glad he got it. Working under Mr. and Mrs. Carson, a lovely old couple, was just his favorite.

The only thing was the creepy little old timey paintings they had around the dining areas. A part of him loved them and another part hated them. Their eyes followed him everywhere.

“Stan!” Richie abruptly came from behind the booth and set his cold hands on the very slim opening of Stan’s shirt on to his exposed collarbones with the intent to scare him. But Stan remained still as the dead. It was not in the least bit surprising but it still disappointed Richie to no end. “How did that not get you this time?”

Stan made a small amused huff as Richie came round to slide into the bench across from him, eyes avoiding the painting behind his head. “Can’t be surprised by what you know is coming, Rich.” Was his simple explanation and it made Richie huff for himself, crossing his arms and leaning back on the cushioned seat. He sat still for as long as he could entertain himself, which wasn’t long at all, before he started to hastily remove his layers of warm clothing. Flakes of snow fell off like tiny beads onto the chair and table.

“Here, eat your soup. Still warm.” Stan pushed the tiny meal he brought from the kitchen over to his friend who he knew needed it. Richie gladly took it and started to dunk the little bread rolls into it. “I only have like ten minutes for break so, what’s up?”

Richie slurped his soup from the silver spoon and rolled his lips together in thought. Stan had mastered his mind-blocking of the unfavorable sounds of eating, loud chewing and other classic gross hits. It was a skill that had come with the job and was now just a nice bonus. He smiled to show his friend he was listening.

“I have a problem.” Richie swallowed his mouthful and sat back again like just the sentence had exhausted him. He reached over to play with the end of the scarf he had carelessly thrown on the table.

“I think that much is apparent, Rich.” Stan nodded with a playful little grin and Richie rolled his eyes which lead to his thing about following every one of Stan’s movements with his eyes. He did that from time to time & Stan as well. But where they differed was Stan only really ‘people watched’ those he did not know because he had all his friends movements committed to memory. Richie, however, only really did this with his friends. And he’d make key expressions that lead Stan to believe he was happy with himself for predicting these movements. It was like he needed some kind of reassurance that he knew them as well as he suspected.

Stan partly dabbled in the art of observing and noting his friends habitual patterns. He grinned to himself and shook his head the tiniest bit, his own physical note of happiness. Like Stan noticed, Richie’s nose twitched like he had expected that reaction.

The nose twitching reminded Stan of that show....Bewitched! He figured if any sort of power that character had existed in the real world that it would most surely not be allowed in a restaurant. Especially if the someone who had it was Richie. He could imagine the havoc he’d cause and it made him giggle. “They’ll kick you out for that, y’know.” He mumbled to himself. Richie’s eyebrow quirked but he just waved his hand to forget it. “Never mind that, tell me what’s wrong.”

“A lot of my relatives are coming over for Christmas and everyone of them bugs me about school and relationships sooo...” Richie trailed off and scooted up to the edge of the table with a look of amused dread. “I told my parents I had a boyfriend.”

Stan put on a little smirk. “I know where this is going.”

Richie raised his brow but he continued.

“I’ll do it but only cause I have a swell outfit I’ve been waiting to wear...” Stan trailed off in his special Stan way and rolled his head back on his shoulders with a tiny smirk.

“Oh no. I told them Eddie was my boyfriend. I mean, I thought it’d work cause my parents like him and I thought maybe everyone else would too. Then they’d get off my back a little.” Richie explained, waving with his hands like he was telling a great story. Stan began to laugh again which annoyed his friend but he didn’t seem to care.

“I would have made a great boyfriend, y’know? Better than Eddie.” Stan put on a frown and leaned over to punch his friends arm but Richie remained conflicted. “Truthfully, I don’t know if that was the best idea, Rich.”

From his more upright position, the eyes of one of the paintings locked on him. Stan would scowl or maybe just move if he was alone.

Richie frowned, looking offended. “Why?” He said with a very snippy tone. Stan gave him that look that he absolutely hated. It was the kind of look only Stan could do. It said all he had to say without a lick of speech. It drove Richie nuts because what it said was ‘I know something’.

“Well, because you like him.” Stan said casually, picking up the salt & pepper shakers to perfectly center them in front of the menus.

The only reaction Richie could muster was to scoff a few times and try to stumble his way through a reply. “That is ridiculous. Stan, where did you get that?” He narrowed his eyes because the confusion was loud in the back of his brain. “I don’t like Eddie.” He made sure to put the same tone on the word as his friend.

“Bev and I talk about it all the time.” Stan said in a joking manner but it still pissed Richie off.

“Well fucking stop cause I don’t.” Richie reached over and pinched him. Stan made a small ‘ow’ sound and rolled his eyes.

Stan licked his lips and shrugged, leaning his forearms on the table. “Ok, so I was wrong.” He didn’t seem all that bothered and Richie knew it was because Stan still thought of himself as right. It irked the shit outta him.

“I don’t, Stan.”

“I didn’t say anything-”

“You said it with your eyes.”

“Ok. I said it with my eyes, sorry.” Stan laughed softly. “Anyway, why didn’t you go talk to Eddie about this situation? Considering he is your ‘boyfriend��." Stan stood from the booth with a kind smile and looked down at him.

Richie pouted up at him like a child. “Eddie’s gonna be maaaad.” He frowned. “He'd have to come over and meet everybody and-” Richie put his face in his hands and chuckled himself before pulling his palms down so his skin would pull.

“I think you should give em’ a heads up.” Stan patted his shoulder and laughed. But when Richie made the move to get up from the booth, Stan stopped him with a gentle push as he whipped a towel over his shoulder. “Finish your soup first then go find him. He’s probably at the bike shop with Bill.”

Richie smiled and went for his food again. Stan went the backwards way back to the kitchen to avoid that particular painting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill Denbrough had been many different things in his lifetime so far and a fool was not one of them. Although as he approached the middle of his senior year in high school with his butt planted firmly on a glossy floor and staticky balloons with bright yellow smiling faces as his only company, he realized that everyone was a fool. No exceptions.

He tilted his chin up and felt the thickness of the air from the cloud of dust forming around him. The sneeze he held back gave him the closest thing to a high that he’d had in months. It was kinda nice. The smiley balloons leered above him with a much more mocking energy than he had planned for. Had this been just a couple years ago, he would’ve sworn they were swarming around him. It was deeply upsetting when paired with the cheery winter tunes on the radio. ‘They're really rockin’ around the Christmas tree, huh?’ Bill smiled a cheesy grin back at one because he was alone and did not give a shit. The kind of smile that gave a soft click from the shift of spit and showed off his great teeth. One of the damn smiley things popped. He sneezed.

“Mmmm I didn’t like that.” Bill whispered to himself with a slight grin as he steadied his hand once more on the cherry red bike he was working on. “Not one bit.” He went on meekly but with a spark of amusement. He had to be amused because if he wasn’t he’d be really annoyed.

Bill had worked at Sherwin’s Bike shop for roughly a year working under Mr. Sherwin, a small and outgoing old man. Bill had painted big bubble letters on the windows and wrote fun little sayings on the signs like ‘Sherwin’s Schwinns are sure to win’ for a while. But when the kind old man went and died on him a month ago, he left the store all to some new guy that Bill didn’t very much like. Which was why he was stuck with an early shift that started with being the only one in the store.

But now, he sat cross-legged on the bicycle shop floor some time later with his huge ‘Women want me, fish fear me’ shirt pooling into the lap of his jeans while he got stalked by smiling kids balloons. “All that worrying for nothing, huh? Turned out great, didn’t it?” Bill pursed his lips as he spoke to himself with such a heavy dose of sarcasm it would have annoyed anyone over thirty. And because he was becoming prematurely bitter, it sure did grind his gears too.

Grind his gears. That was a classic Mr. Sherwin expression. Bill hoped to God he wasn’t just going to straight up turn into the old man when he grew up, though he had loved him dearly. But his wardrobe spoke volumes on that idea. ‘Wearing a dead man’s shirt was like bad luck, wasn’t it?’ Bill paused from his work on the bike to think to himself. He sure hoped it wasn’t because he’d had enough of that in his life already.

It was the only damn piece of clothing in the store which made sense considering he had not thought to be prepared for spilling his coffee all over himself like an idiot at work. There had not been any time to go home for a change before he had to open but luckily, his favorite little old timer left this gem behind....’Almost as if he knew Bill would be an idiot.’ He was always one to tease him. The traces of his less prominent stutter that stayed with him was a popular subject to Mr. Sherwin’s comedy line-up. Bill missed him a lot but that did very little for him. People died on him, that was just the way it went.

One of his tools fell from the perch of his toolbox and shocked him enough to choke on his own spit. “F-f-fuck.” He cursed once he got most of his air back and stood, bringing the bike to full stance and laying it on it’s kickstand. And thus began the orchestra of disaster...

Once Bill had a small glass of water, he set it down to go back to his work but had misjudged his placement and it came to a crashing halt on the floor. The bike toppled over just a few feet away onto the tools which created harsh bangs of metal. Bill smacked himself on the forehead and bent to pick up the glass and cut his fingers. Blood trickled down his cupped hand as he rushed to get a towel that wasn’t covered in garbage.

“This is fine. Wonderful even.” Bill spoke in a voice so sickened with sarcasm and wrapped his hand slowly. He took a few moments to breathe in and out. It wasn’t as if he’d be alone much longer. His co-workers would be starting their shifts soon. That took a little weight off his shoulders and allowed him to relax.

Another balloon popped.

And the glass doors abruptly opened. Bill almost jumped into the air but he was soothed as Richie came bopping in with a carefree smile. “Hey Bill have you seen-? Christ! What happened!?”

Richie darted over and Bill was momentarily confused before remembering his cut-up hand. “Oh that...accident.” He tried to wave his hand to dismiss it but ended up flicking blood onto the counter. Richie rolled his eyes and tried to remember some of the medical shit Eddie had told him over the course of their friendship.

Richie attempted to wrap Bill’s hand properly while the other man shifted around the counter looking tired.

“Hey, at least the good stuff in life only requires one hand, huh?” Richie made an obscene gesture and Bill only rolled his eyes with a look of distaste. He awkwardly chuckled and went back to his job. One of the floating yellow bastards began to deflate slowly and descended a ways towards the floor. Bill felt a flare of silly anger from his gut as he followed it with his eyes. The tension was so thick that Richie briefly looked up & over his glasses to check it out, turning to see what was so infuriating to his friend.

“You do know that’s just a balloon, right?” Richie chuckled and Bill let out a small grin.

“Damn t-t-things are annoying the crap outta me.” Bill shook his head and Richie pushed his glasses up.

“Was Eddie around earlier? Kinda have to talk to him.”

“No one comes just to visit me anymore.” Bill mock pouted and took his injured hand back from his friend. “Yeah, E-E-Eddie came in looking for you actually. He meant to catch you before he started work but said he was outta time now. So I’d go looking for him at the theater.” Bill said with a grin. Richie rolled his eyes because, of course.

“I’ll come visit you later, Big Bill. Take care of your hand.” Richie snapped his fingers and made to exit.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Richie piped back up, sliding closer to Bill again. “Where can a guy like me get one of those ‘Women want me, fish fear me’ shirts? Asking for a friend.” He waggled his eyebrows and made a mockingly curious face all his own.

Bill rolled his eyes but had to laugh at the way Richie spoke and moved. ‘That was his real kicker, he thought. Richie just fuckin’ moved and acted so ridiculous that it was truly his powerhouse. Especially considering it came off so natural.’ Bill shook his head a few times and moved to shrug and shove his hands into his pockets.

“S’not funny Bill. My friend really wants to know, ok?” Richie slapped Bill’s arm and broke himself. ‘His true weakness however was laughing before he could fully commit to a joke. Which could sometimes be even fucking funnier....so maybe it wasn’t a weakness’, Bill thought.

They laughed endlessly for what seemed like hours. Every-time they thought the bug was gone, they’d just share a look and succumb to weird versions of their usual laughs. One’s that were more like hissing from being a victim of such restrain or their bodies would just rock in silence because nothing could even come out anymore.

“What’s the matter with you, that wasn’t even funny.” Richie spoke through restrained giggles. Bill shrugged and cradled his hand.

“I dunno. I’ll s-s-see you later, man.” Bill patted him with his good hand and walked with him to the door as he spotted his co-workers beginning to walk in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie bopped inside the theater with hesitance. Eddie was a pistol and he was not too excited to hear the whole spiel he would surely have prepared in seconds flat for Richie name dropping him as his ‘boyfriend’.

Upon entry he could easily spot his tiny friend working as the ticket boy though since it was a slow day, Eddie was texting hurriedly under the tiny little booth. He grinned. Eds was not a champion at being subtle. It was by some miracle that he’d yet to be noticed. Just as Richie was starting to walk over, his own phone buzzed.

Eddie: Work is dead. Bring me a Redbull.

Richie held in his giggle and happily skipped on over. “Hey! You shouldn't be texting on the job!” The deep and loud yell was contrary to his bouncy demeanor and wide grin. However, Eddie jumped about a foot in the air and by the look of it, had a mini heart attack.

“Oh fuck you. I thought you were Robert.” Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked Richie hard in the arm. Robert was Eddie’s manager, a nice little old man, who Richie knew well enough just by visiting Eds all the time. That and he personally rejected Richie’s application on three different occasions.

“That was the point.” Richie gave some passers-by the side-eye as they looked up to stare at them. The theater was pretty dead so this was the most excitement they probably had all day. “I’m really good at impressions, huh?” He playfully tapped him.

“It isn’t hard to mock Robert, Rich. Where’s my Redbull?”

Richie rolled his eyes and leaned on the little booth. “I got here ten seconds before you texted me. I’m not a psychic nor The Flash, y’know?”

Eddie frowned but shrugged before they fell into an easy small-talk. “So why did you come visit then?”

Richie grinned again though this time it was a little nervous. “Can’t I just come say hi?” He chuckled and Eddie smirked.

“You come say hi like every time I’m on the clock. But I can always tell when you want something.” Eddie playfully narrowed his eyes and Richie felt his stomach drop a little. He glanced away and let his eyes drag over the red and gold decor of the theater. He felt the familiar bitterness for not being hired himself, he loved this place.

“So here’s the thing-”

“I knew it.” Eddie shook his head with a smile but quickly quieted to let his friend speak. He rolled his lips together, sniffled and rubbed his finger under his nose.

“You know how my family bugs me about how I never date anyone?” Richie asked and Eddie nodded. “Well, everyone’s coming over for this Christmas party in a few days and it’s a whole thing... dinner, activities, and all that jazz.” Richie made jazz hands with a flat expression and Eddie fought back a tiny giggle. “So in order to dodge all those annoying questions...I told my parents that I have a boyfriend.”

“You came out to your parents? That’s great! How did they take it?”

“Great but that’s not the point-” Richie had never doubted his parents would be ok with it. He had a gut feeling that they already knew, probably even before Richie himself did. “I told them I had a boyfriend.”

“But you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Thank you, captain obvious.” Richie rolled his eyes. “That’s the um...-Well I told them that you were my boyfriend..”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth but Richie was already set on a long tangent.

“I only said it because they like you so much, Eds. And I just don’t wanna hear that whole spiel again about relationships and I figured I could get them off my backs by being in one. Plus my mom already had suspicions about me being in a relationship. And when I said your name, she seemed pretty psyched....so yeah.” Richie grinned like a child after they’d done something wrong and rubbed behind his ear.

He recalled the moment he’d told his mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been mindlessly bickering about the yearly Tozier Christmas party while she cleaned the kitchen. The oven cleaner had gone right to his head and made him slightly more irritated than normal. The idea of this tradition was more so a burden to him now than it ever was. Being that once he turned around fifteen, all the questions were about dating and school. And his idiotic cousin who already had a girlfriend.

“Mom?.....Mom?....Mom!?” Richie whined like a child as Maggie Tozier pulled her head out of the oven with a comical grin that looked eerily familiar, Richie dropped his own grin. “Is everyone coming?”

“Yes, Richie. Everyone but your cousin. He’s got plans with his girlfriend, y’know.�� She poked his shoulder in a very ‘mom’ like way.

“Oh that’s bull.”

“Richie!” She smacked the back of his head lightly. “Wouldn’t hurt you to just tell me you're dating someone.” She pursed her lips in the same way Stanley Uris did when he ‘knew’ something. He sat up straight with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, I know you do. You go out all the time with the same excuse. ‘Going to hang-out with Eddie.’ or ‘Gonna go visit Eddie at work’. How many times can you be bothering that boy, realistically? I know that’s a cover-up son. I’m hip with the lingo.” Maggie circle her face with an extended finger and Richie held back a burst of laughter.

Though that had been quite amusing, Richie was momentarily thrown that she’d noticed how much he, quote unquote, bothered Eddie. It wasn’t that much. Of course not.

“You know your aunts and everyone wouldn’t bother you so much if you just admitted to it and brought her over.” She threw her dish towel over her shoulder, neglecting to remember it was covered in the oven cleaner that made Richie lightheaded and irritable.

The more Richie thought about it, his mother was on to something. No more long awkward conversations about setting him up with the local teenagers they knew. He gritted his teeth just thinking about it. He held up his hands in mock surrender and spoke without thinking, which he did a lot.

“You caught me, ma. You’re one...ugh...smart cookie, huh?” He put on some on some old timey voice and bumped her on the arm. She rolled her eyes but actually looked pretty pleased. “I have a boyfriend.”

Richie had spoke before he realized he’d basically just accidentally came out of the closet. He wasn’t too concerned but still....

Maggie just lit up though, her smile was wide and loving. “His name....?”

Richie panicked. “It actually is Eddie! That’s why I hang out with him all the time!” He gestured, very happy with himself.

‘That was smart, good job.’ He patted himself on the back.

That is until he realized the consequences of his words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why don’t you umm...think about it?” Richie suggested, fearing a long rant from the boy. “Keep in mind, it’d sure help me a lot.” He grinned and Eddie chuckled, he felt better. “I’ll come back in like ten minutes.”

Eddie smiled like he was more so amused at the other boy than pleased, at least that’s what Richie thought. He gently patted Eddie’s arm and began to exit just as he saw Robert make his way over.

As he headed to the door, he caught the beginning to their conversation.

“You’ve got some weird friends, Eddie...”

“Do I now?” Eddie’s voice suggested amusement.

“Yeah. I don’t like that Richie kid, but you know that. You should hang more with that um....Bill kid or the Mike one. They’re nice respectable boys.”

“Alright boss.” Eddie laughed.

Richie couldn’t help but laugh. Though that old man didn’t like him and rejected his applications, Richie fuckin’ loved Robert.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Richie buzzed off for a while, Eddie moved on to cleaning the popcorn machine. His least favorite thing to do in the whole entire world. His thoughts easily drifted to the proposition Richie had given him. And as he cleaned the slimy grease off the counters nearby, he felt his stomach flutter.

He liked Richie. Liked him. He so badly wanted to take this chance while he could because heaven knows he’d never actually say a thing to Richie about his feelings. He’d sooner die.

He had mentioned it to Bill however, ‘well more like Bill found out all on his own because he knows me too well & I’m way to transparent but I digress.’ Eddie frowned deeply. Bill would be pissed if he found out Eddie had agreed to a plan like this. He could hear the whole speech about how this would only hurt his feelings in the long run now. But Eddie was thinking about saying yes. Really how bad could the harm be? Yeah he’d get his feelings hurt but he’d get to spend the day as Richie’s ‘boyfriend’...

Screw Bill. He was going to say yes.

Ten minutes went by astoundingly quick and Richie was easily spotted in the corner of Eddie’s vision just as soon as he started to wipe down the concessions counter. He turned, mouth open to speak but Richie interrupted by sliding a can of Redbull to him. He grinned widely.

“Oh you spoil me, Richie Tozier.” His voice was light and soft and he could almost feel a blush beginning to bloom on his cheeks.

Richie happily leaned over the counter to pinch his cheek. “Anything for my Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie swatted his hand away but missed it just as soon as it was gone. For a few comfortable minutes they were silent and smiley.

Eddie coughed and looked down towards the candy case as if examining the order. “So I’ve thought about it.”

Richie tried not to get his hopes up.

“I’ll do it.” Eddie looked up again, once more wiping his finger nervously under his nose. Richie followed the movement with his eyes and looked as if he knew he Eddie was going to do it. He then lit up with a wide smile, so wide in fact that his cheeks pushed his glasses up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And you said what!?” Bill narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms with all the grace of a middle-aged dad. Eddie gritted his teeth slightly as he responded with a ‘grin’ and twiddled his thumbs.

“I said yes and it’s too late to change it.” He shrugged with a purse of his lips, looking rather smug.

“No it’s not! Tell him I s-s-said no!” Bill spoke in all seriousness even though Eddie giggled like a child at that. “Be serious Eddie. This is only going to hurt you in the long run.”

Eddie pondered that statement for a few seconds and pushed himself off the wall of the bike store. “One day being Richie’s boyfriend is better then nothing, Bill.”

Bill rolled his eyes and tapped lightly at a bike handle. “I can’t believe you agreed to such a d-d-dumb idea.” He spoke as if he was wise beyond his years. Eddie loved and hated that trait, right now he mostly hated it.

“Look. I’m not trying to be the bad guy, Eddie. But once the day is done, you and Richie will be too. W-Where will that leave you? S-s-sad and regretful.” Bill rolled his lips together and felt a pinch in his gut. Eddie’s eyes glazed over with thought again and he could tell he was biting his cheek.

“I’ll be fine and I invite you to call my bluff afterwards if I’m wrong.” Eddie nodded.

Bill sighed, momentarily giving up the subject in fear of causing too much strain. The two of them ended up watching one of those stupid and unsettling yellow balloons slowly deflate to the ground for twenty minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the Tozier Christmas Party, Richie woke up supremely early to help his mother around the home. The cleaning, the tidying, the whole ordeal. His father sat at the kitchen counter reading the paper without a care in the world while his lovely & helpful son cleaned under the table.

‘Under the God damn thing. Like seriously? Who was gonna see under the thing? Beside’s maybe Grandma Ruth’s frickin’ dog.’ Richie pouted to himself as he laid under the thing and heard Wentworth Tozier’s soft laughter. Richie decided to give him a little show.

He moved to crawl under but purposefully misjudged his distance and smacked his head against the table. Wentworth burst into laughter, the kind Richie basked in with pride. Playing stupid wasn’t his preferred method to get laughter but it sure was effective in small doses.

“Oh Richie....” His mother’s voice cooed from the other room as if she just knew what happened from the ‘thump’ sound.

“I’m ok, ma. Tip top shape even.” Richie stood up as he called out loudly to his mother, rag hanging out of his pocket as he moved to sit next to his father, still chuckling. “So’s the table. Am I done for the day now?”

Wentworth ruffled his son’s hair. “Sure, sure. But before you go goof off somewhere, is my oh so wonderful son bringing someone to our little party this year?”

Richie slouched and shrugged him off with a playful frown. “Just Eddie, you’ve met him.” He assumed his father did not no of the details yet. Maggie Tozier might be a gossip but right now she was a little preoccupied, he heard her opening and closing drawers to reorganize them now. Plus, she most likely would want Richie to explain it when he was ready.

“Ahh Eddie, yes.” He nodded, not seeing anything weird in that idea. Richie pursed his lips.

“I just wanted to um....” Richie stumbled a little, not quite expecting his nerves to rise as they were. It was a little shocking. He knew 100% that his father wouldn’t care about the gay thing and would love him either way. So was it the Eddie thing he was nervous about? He shouldn’t even care about that cause it wasn’t even a real thing. “Bring someone special, you know?”

“He’s one of your childhood pals, Rich. Sure he’s special.” Wentworth casually spoke as he filled in another word in his crossword puzzle. “That’s why we invite your ‘Uncle’ Dan. He’s been my buddy since I was ten. Did I ever tell you how I met him-?”

“Yeah Dad. Just a little over two hundred times.” Richie wondered if all father’s had trouble recalling what boring stories they’d told at nausea.

“Anyway” Richie paused to think. He really had to sell this to get him to believe Eddie was his boyfriend.

So he took advantage of his nerves to give the best acting performance of his life...’and it wasn’t even that hard!’ His father turned to him, oblivious as ever. “Never-mind it’s stupid.”

Wentworth smiled up at his child and chuckled, swallowing his first tedious sip of the coffee he’d been nursing. "I say a lot of stupid things, I won't mind."

Richie gave him a look a lot of children give their parents. One of begrudging amusement and familiarity. “Well, Eddie and I are dating, dad.” Richie blurted and bit his lip afterward, wondering if that had been too strong.

“You don’t have to tell me that.” He rolled his eyes. “All kids your age are dating, son.” He shrugged and Richie blinked. How had he completely missed the point?

“Each other, dad. We’re dating each other” Richie rolled his eyes. Wentworth grinned.

“Oh. Alrighty then. Better warn him about your aunts, my boy. They’ll be swarming him with questions.” He stood, the chair squeaking, and patted Richie’s back softly.

Richie smiled, no teeth, just a casual joyful grin. “Better warn him about you too, dad. You and mom can be quite the handful, I tell ya.” He laughed and felt instant warmth and relief as he leaned back and his father wrapped his arms around him briefly. “Thanks.” He mumbled into his arm.

His father said nothing else. Just shook his son lightly and kissed the top of his head, a gesture Richie usually hated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything had worked out perfectly. Eddie’s mother was going to be out for the day with a friend but not before she helped him bake some peppermint brownies. To avoid suspicion, Eddie insisted they were for his track team because they were meeting for practice today. She was none the wiser to the fact that Track was not even in season right now.

To sell the point even further, Ben came over early in the morning to help them and to vouch for Eddie’s track story.

“Eddie. You could have said cross country, at least that’s currently in season.” Ben rolled his eyes with a small laugh. Eddie bumped his elbow and shrugged.

“Well, track’s what came out of my mouth so we’re going with it.” He sprinkled some peppermint dust on the brownies. Sonia Kaspbrak was getting her things together before she had to leave. “Besides, I’m not doing cross country again. Just track for me.”

Ben recalled the one year Eddie had done both and all the times he’d complained about running through the ‘fucking disgusting woods, Ben.’ He laughed. “I could guess that.”

“So what exactly am I helping you with now?” Ben asked, playing connect the dots with the candy cane pieces in his mind.

“...The brownies.” Eddie said dumbly, arm hovering over the pan of food. Ben laughed again.

“Yeah, no. I got that dummy. I met what am I helping you cover for?” Ben smacked his arm lightly as Eddie mumbled a small ‘oh’.

“Richie needed a fake boyfriend for a Christmas party to you know, get his family off his back.” Eddie shrugged, casually.

Ben chuckled again. “Sounds like a nightmare.” He joked. Eddie laughed too after what he thought was a pause.

“It’s a way to spend an afternoon alright. At least I’ll get some food and shit.” Eddie dusted his hands of crumbled candy and wiped them down his pant legs. “He’s coming over early, just as soon as my mom leaves to....” He stopped moving his hands to think it over. “actually I don’t know.”

Ben raised his eyebrows with amusement.

The two of them finished up the dessert treat and once Sonia had left, with a bit of a struggle, Ben made his exit too.

Eddie wrapped some tin foil over the pan and placed it on his counter just as a knock came at the door. Just as he swung the door open, a hug black garbage bag thrust into his arms.

“Is your mom here?” Came Richie’s voice, slightly muffled as Eddie’s face was shoved into the bag. He threw the thing onto his carpet and rolled his eyes. Richie stood in his doorway with a wide mischievous smile and a Christmas sweater that was practically glowing from the twinkle.

“No but if she was, your ass would be thrown out on the sidewalk by now. Do you have to make such a scene when you enter a room?” Eddie playfully smacked his cheek and Richie shoved him off, moving towards his bag of treasures.

“The answer is yes, Eddie my boy.” Richie sat on the ground and started to untie his bag. “And look what I have brought for you, my dear boyfriend.” Richie chuckled and Eddie swallowed thickly.

For a panicked moment, Eddie fully agreed with Bill. Just from the use of that word. It hit him in the gut and took with it his breath, he almost reached for his inhaler. However Richie did not miss a beat and was already pulling crap out of the bag to show him.

“You gotta pick one so you can blend in with the Toziers, who dress soooooo very cool.”

The garbage bag was full of Christmas sweaters, each one uglier than the next. Eddie let himself laugh again and took a seat on the carpet with his friend to dig through the pile of mess.

And for a solid twenty minutes, Eddie didn’t have a care in the world. As long as Richie was making him laugh and displaying his lovely sweater collection, he was happy and carefree.

After some fun, Richie and Eddie headed on their way together. The drive was surprisingly quiet, each boy inside their own head. Richie admired the falling snow and hoped that it would stick around to last through Christmas day.

Eddie’s mind was happily pushing out the risks about the day and feeling the slight itch from his borrowed sweater. He was elated from the knowledge that under Richie’s own thin coat, his sweater matched with his. He grinned and twitched his nose. He was pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t feeling that nervous anymore....in fact the only bothersome feeling he was having was that kind of absent feeling? He shook his hands which somehow felt empty as if he forgot something....

“Shit! Oh my god, you’re so stupid.” Eddie smacked his forehead and yelled at himself. Richie just about jumped six feet in the air from the abrupt surprise.

“Hey! What’d I do???” Richie blinked and Eddie turned to him with a look of amusement and annoyance, he gave that look to Richie a lot.

“No, I was talking to myself....I made brownies for your family but I doubt they’ll enjoy them much if they’re still in my kitchen.”

Richie chuckled for a few seconds before realizing they’d have to drive all the way back to Eddie’s house. “Oh crap.” He muttered, fidgeting in the drivers seat like he was going to turn.

Brenda Lee was singing with a voice of jolly as Richie pulled into a gas station to turn them around. “Should actually get some gas here, Rich. You’re gas light’s gonna be on in like two minutes I bet.” Eddie laughed.

Richie frowned. He was a really good driver but if he had one problem, it was forgetting to get gas or just pretending he didn’t need to do it. He did not like having to stop because it was an ‘inconvenience’. It made Eddie laugh because what an actual inconvenience it’d be if the guy ran out of gas in the middle of driving.

As the boy got out of the car, Eddie turned up the radio and felt the vibration of Richie sticking the gas pump in. The radio started out in soft whispers and grew louder in a familiar nostalgic way. Eddie knew just what it was so he lowered his window for his companion. “Listen to what you’re missing, Rich!!”

“...Another year over. And a new one just begun. And so this is Christmas...”

Richie instantly shouted out a loud cry of enjoyment. He finished filling the car up and hurried over to the window with the brightest grin Eddie had ever seen, he scooted back on his seat as if afraid of the sudden closeness. “This is why I hate getting gas. I miss everything good.” He leaned further into the car.

“Then get in and lets’ go.” Eddie said, almost begging him to back up and stop leaning over him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie and Eddie made it back to his house and collected the brownies which were just too enticing for Richie not to try on the way back to his house. He ate three out of the huge pan full. Eddie smacked his hand the fourth time he tried to reach for one.

Richie did a great rendition of Elton John’s ‘Step Into Christmas’ where he got louder and louder every line which ended just in time for him to pull into his icy driveway. He turned the car off and made no immediate move to get out, just leaned back and sighed. “We’re still really early so it’s still probably just my parents.”

Eddie nodded.

“You ready for the greatest time of your life, dear?” Richie asked a sweet voice and made Eddie grin and laugh. Richie took that as yes and hopped out of the car in a flash and before Eddie could even think to open his door, Richie opened it for him.

Eddie whistled as he hopped out, careful not to slip though Richie looked ready to help if needed. “Oh how I love when you’re a gentleman.” He batted his eyes in some impression of a love-struck teen. He didn’t really know for sure what he was going for, after all Richie was the impressionist.

Richie almost looked flattered for a second, blinking with a shy grin. But almost instantly after, he rushed to the door while Eddie followed after.

Richie started speaking almost before he even opened the door, “ 'Zat You, Santa Claus?” He questioned sarcastically as he slid inside with a smirk. “Oh no, just your loving son.” He smiled and then gestured for Eddie to follow him.

“Dusting off the ol’ Louis Armstrong impression for the holidays, huh?” Wentworth spoke up from the kitchen counter. His newspaper spilled from his hands and spread over the table. His eyes still glanced over to read a few lines as his mother used the sports section as a placemat for cutting up ribbon. She glanced up and the look on her face was way more excited than Richie had expected and suddenly he was nervous again.

The home was in the process of being decorated, evergreen garland wrapped their banister and bundles of lights nested deeply in the spaces between green and pine cone. Richie was willing to bit his mother had forgot about the annual Christmas sprucing again and borrowed some extra lights from their neighbors. The ol’ time-y 50′s radio that Richie had found at a garage sale was pulled from his room and sat neatly a-top their crappy fireplace. James Taylor was currently wishing them all a merry little Christmas. He smiled.

“Eddie!” Maggie happily strolled over and stood before them.

“I’m here too mom.” Richie said sarcastically and she waved her hand with a matching smirk.

“Hi, Mrs. Tozier, Mr. Tozier.”

Richie could tell Eddie was a little nervous but who wouldn’t be if you had to pretend to be dating someone in front of their parents?

“I made everyone some brownies...there’d be more if your son didn’t eat three on the way over here.” Eddie playfully smacked Richie’s arm and handed over the pan to Maggie, who looked grateful.

“He is his fathers boy.” Maggie threw a look to her husband as she slid the treats carefully before him. He was not really paying attention to her and habitually reached out for a sweet brownie. Maggie slapped his hand and gave Eddie a look that said ‘See!’ and they shared a laugh.

“Hey! What’d I do?” Wentworth questioned, darting his eyes between them.

Richie felt a little odd at the moment. It was a new level of bonding that just occurred between his mother and Eddie. A simple shared joke about the Tozier boys...’Their Tozier boys’....it made his face burn a holly colored red that luckily no one saw.

“I thought you kids might wanna decorate the tree before the family shows up.” Wentworth scooted out of his seat and followed them into the living room area, picking up a smaller ornament box while Richie took a larger to set on the couch.

This was Richie’s favorite activity. God, he loved this time of the year. He started to carefully dig through the boxes for the best ones while Eddie sat down on the couch. “You gonna help me or what, Eddie dear?”

Eddie scoffed, leaning his body over the box. “I dunno....you probably ate enough sugar to do it all yourself in thirty seconds, Rich.” He spoke softly but with his favorite tone...teasing.

Richie rolled his eyes and leaned over the box as well, slightly taller so Eddie tilted his chin up. “You’re such a Grinch these days...” He sighed and lifted a clearly handmade ornament, admiring it in his hand. “I miss the boy in this ornament...he was much more fun back then.”

Eddie furrowed his brows and sat on his knees to get a peek of the ornament however Richie moved it from just under his nose. “Oh come on, what is that?” He scurried off the couch and fought him for it.

Neither boy cared to notice Richie’s parents who were so obviously enjoying the show. Maggie smacked Wentworth’s arm to get him to look and when he did, he held back laughter. “These kids...” She rolled her eyes but let her hand rest over her heart.

“Aha!” Eddie ripped the thing from his friend and got the look he wanted so badly. It was a handmade clay red and green frame with a photo of the two of them when they were no more than eight. Richie wanted to see the look on Eddie’s face so he instinctively rested his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. He’d been doing that lately a lot since Eddie was much shorter than him. “Awwww...” Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “We look so stupid.” He burst into laughter and thrusted the ornament back to his ‘boyfriend.’

“I gotta see this.” Wentworth jumped up and went over to them, Richie gladly handed it over. His dad smiled and shook his head and soon Maggie was over there just the same.

“And who would’ve known those two idiots would grow up to be two idiots in love.” Richie mocked, hand on his chest before looking at Eddie. That’s when he realized the heaviness of his words. Eddie’s eyes were wide and for a half second, panicked. No one in the room seemed to know what to do but for different reasons. Richie allowed his parents to believe the air was tense because they’d simply not said the ‘L’ word just yet while he and Eddie didn’t make eye contact.

“Ummm, ok. Who wants to hang the elf with one arm?” Richie held up the broken ornament with an awkward smile. Eddie chuckled, taking it from him, so everyone knew it was ok again.

They spent twenty minutes hanging shit. There were tons of ornaments Richie didn’t even remember like a vintage looking yellow balloon with a black smiley face. He figured it was one of his dads, he was weird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only took two or three guests arriving for Richie and Eddie to fall into a comfortable routine. Mostly because nothing had really changed. Richie always put his arm around Eddie, Eddie always begged Richie for bites of his food when he was perfectly capable of getting his own, and Richie always played with the end of Eddie’s sleeves.

By the time everyone was all counted for, Richie and Eddie were making their rounds with no problem. Richie could not believe how easy it was. They got told they were the cutest little couple like ten different times. ‘That was strange, huh? Nah, I’m a great actor so...’ Richie got distracted by Eddie looping their arms together.

Eddie was in shock that he played the part so well. Even family members he’d met before found it completely normal for the two of them to be ‘dating now’. It pained him a lot. Even more than he suspected.

The two of them and found a moment to themselves in the corner of the room on an old chair. Richie cradled a Pine candle that he raised to his nose every thirty seconds or so. “So, how weird is it for you?” Richie asked, head tilting to the side.

Eddie frowned. “Very.” ‘painful’. He took the candle to smell it for himself.

Richie deflated at that answer and he wasn’t quite sure why. That had been what he’d expected. He looked up to where his mother was showing everyone some childhood scrapbook and caught a comment.

“I knew it. Mary, I’ll tell you that much. I knew those two were a couple.”

Wentworth rolled his eyes, sipping the most classic dad drink he ever could, eggnog. “No you did not.”

His mother turned with her lips pursed to start bickering about it and Richie did not want to hear anymore. “What about you, Rich?” Eddie handed the candle back over.

Richie took in a nice long breath of it and rolled his lips together. “I mean yeah, but when everyone was trying to get us under the mistletoe I was excited. I’ve just been dying to kiss ya, Eds my love.” He grinned and leaned over to pinch his cheeks and Eddie rolled his eyes, slapping his arm to initiate a play fight.

��Awww look how cute.”

Both boys stopped suddenly as Richie’s aunt Mary stopped in front of them. Their cheeks turned rosy shades of pink.

“Hey Aunt Mary....” They both smiled awkwardly, dropping their hands into their own laps.

“Now. I’ve heard from just about everyone on how cute you two are.” She put her hands on her hips and they nodded out of politeness. “But I would like to know how it started. I mean I’ve known you Eddie since you were about...yay big.” She paused to make sure her measurement was right, her hand hovered low to the ground. “So it must be a cute story. You guys were adorable then too.” She laughed.

‘Crap.’ Of all their preparing, they lacked an actual answer for that. They never did come up with a full story. Richie turned to his friend, who looked equally lost and figured he should take the handle on this since it was all his idea.

“Well, I think I always just knew, you know?” Richie started, hoping he could pull it off. So he tried to remember why everyone truly believed them. “But I’m pretty shit at being serious about things like that so I always just joked with Eddie about it, I’m sure you remember hearing some of that?” He asked her and she nodded, not even caring that he swore just then.

“Anyway, I um....” He scratched behind his ear before awkwardly sliding it over to clasp Eddies for a more convincing look. Eddie didn’t even flinch, in fact, he looked rather interested himself. “It was after this really awesome day we had this past summer. We’d all hung out all day and at some point we were the only two left so I asked Eddie if he wanted to get ice cream. And what was it that we got...?” Richie laughed and looked to Eddie. This was such an unnecessary detail but he was basing this on an actual day they had and for the life of him, he could not remember their order from that day.

“Rocket pops.” Eddie supplied him with what he remembered and shook their hands, for a few seconds they just looked at each other.

“Oh yeah, Rocket pops. So I being an idiot, thought it’d be funny to scare Eddie on my way back from getting mine and so I did and you should’ve seen him.” He started to laugh. “He must’ve been going for a record jump. Eds Kaspbrak gets twenty feet off ground....” He laughed some more before gathering himself for his aunt’s sake.

“And he drops his right? We didn’t have anymore money left either so I felt like the scum of the earth.” He pats their clasped hands with his free one. “So I gave him mine. He didn’t even care about my germs. And I dunno...something about that moment was too perfect. I was still out of breath from the greatest day ever, I think Bruce Springsteen was playing on the loud speaker at the ice cream place and he makes me overly confident like nothing else-” He laughed again “And it was so God damn sunny out....so like the perfect day, right?” He was going on one of his tangents.

Eddie’s hand tightened it’s grip and Richie felt less nervous. “So I just kinda actually realized it for the first time and I knew that I had to say something right then and there or I’d regret it.” He waved his hand and when everyone was still looking, he let it fall. His chest tightened with embarrassment.

“Awwww, you two are the cutest kids.” Aunt Mary said in that adult tone of voice that read like she didn’t believe they’d last very long and she walked away. However, Eddie smacked his arm hard enough to leave a hand-print.

“Ow! What’d I do?” Richie rubbed at it and whined. Eddie shook his head and smiled.

“How did you come up with that?”

Richie felt himself grow even more embarrassed. “Oh well, you know-”

“Richie! come here for a minute!” He heard his mother call and was instantly relieved to escape the moment. He gave Eddie a small smile and squeezed his shoulder in habit as he left the room.

About five minutes later Eddie got bored and walked into the kitchen. He made a terrible mistake when he stopped at the door frame next to Richie where they were now...both under the mistletoe. ‘Crap’

This time, they’d done it themselves but no one seemed to notice a part from them. Richie looked up and back at Eddie, then Eddie did the same.

Both boys remained still and focused on the other. There was something between them in this moment, Eddie was sure. And God he really hoped so. Richie had to be thinking the same thing. Who could say a story like that and not mean it?

Richie twiddled his thumbs as he looked at the smaller boy. That story had just come out of him really. But when he was saying it....boy he really wished that had been what happened. Looking at Eddie right now, he was oh so sure he felt the same way.

‘This is it. He’s gonna say something’ Richie thought.

‘This is it. He’s gonna say something’ Eddie thought.

“Kids come here for a second!”

They both jumped, maybe breaking Eddie’s record from the ice cream shop and felt their chances were blown. Even worse, both felt that maybe they were reading too much into it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He's got to wear his goggles 'cause the snow really bites And he's cruisin' every path with a little surprise-”

“Dad? Did you just say ‘the snow really bites?’ ” Richie asked his father with a laugh. Wentworth nodded. “That’s not right. It’s ‘the snow really flies’, dad.”

Eddie chuckled as he plopped into the seat next to Richie. Richie’s dad pulled back with a shocked expression.

“You’re kidding?”

“No dad. I know that song in and out. No one knows the Beach Boys better than your awesome son.” Richie stuck his thumb to his chest and Wentworth scoffed, getting up and ruffling his sons hair. Richie watched him go and turned to his small friend. “How goes it, my love?” He pinched his arm. Eddie smacked his hand away.

“Don’t do that, asshole.” He reached over and pinched him back. Eddie wanted so badly to start actually talking about how he was feeling like a normal person. But he really couldn’t get it out. Bill was right. This was a bad idea and any pain he was feeling was his own damn fault.

‘Little Saint Nick’ faded into ‘Silver Bells’ and Richie lit up like a Christmas tree. “Come on Eds, my dear. We should probably dance, you know?” He held out his hand and Eddie hesitated before allowing it.

Teasing ‘whoops’ and whistles came from his family members and Eddie hoped he wasn’t blushing. Richie just played along, rolling his eyes and waving his hands at them.

“-Children laughing people passing meeting smile after smile And on every street corner you hear

Silver bells (silver bells) Silver bells (silver bells)”

Richie pulled Eddie closer.

Eddie almost pinched himself.

Both boys took to the dance as any boyfriends would. Laughing, spinning each other and pulling the other close. Eddie was in heaven.

Richie leaned his head down as Eddie came close again, smiling into the shorter boys hair.

“Hey Eds-?” Eddie looked up and their faces were now just inches apart. “I missed the moment last time....but this one’s just as good so...I wanna tell you, I have feelings for you. Like real ones.”

Eddie almost passed out. “You do?”

Richie loosened up on the boy and nodded. “I know it might be weird and I dragged you into this but holy fuck, I didn’t plan on this. I have feelings and I think I always have.”

Eddie jumped up and wrapped his arms around his neck and heard distant whistles again. So he just mumbled into Richie’s neck. “Me too. And I’m so happy you dragged me into this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The losers club was huddled into one small booth at the restaurant where Stan worked. They had just gotten the great news from Richie and Eddie. All that was left to hear was Stan. He came strolling out of the kitchen after his shift ended and slid into what space was left next to Mike.

He caught sight of Richie, who’s arm was around Eddie and he smirked the widest he’d ever had in his life.

“Wow. Seems like another case of I was right and you were wrong, huh Richie?” He crossed his arms. Richie shrugged. “I knew you liked Eddie. Before you even knew.” He stuffed some bread in his mouth as the rest of the losers laughed.

They spent the next twenty minutes having dinner together. Richie pulling Eddie close and the eyes of the ol’ timey paintings followed them all.

#i hope this is ok???#it's been 70 years since my last one #stephen king #Stephen kings IT #IT by stephen king #the losers club #my fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie fic #stan uris #bill denbrough #ben hanscom

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kkennap · 5 years

Text

Disrupt: Taeyong AU

Word Count: 1600

Description: Taeyong hated to break from his usual boring routine but then he met her and his life may never know routine ever again.

Chaos. That was the best way that Taeyong could think to describe the woman standing in front of him. But something about the way her hair felt slightly out of the bun on top of her head and the obvious lack of effort she put into her outfit intrigued him. Taeyong didn’t have the time to fantasize over women, especially one’s who had coffee stains on their gym sweatshirt.

Every morning was exactly the same for Lee Taeyong. He woke up at exactly 5:25 AM, put on his gym clothes and worked out at the gym at his apartment complex for an hour. He’d finish up, take a 10 minute shower, brushed his teeth for 2 minutes AND flossed (his dentist loved him), put on his clothes that he had meticulously laid out the night before, styled his hair, grabbed a protein bar and coffee (pre-made of course, who had the time to stand in line at Starbucks?) and headed to take the bus to work. Taeyong didn’t think his life was boring, he thrived off routine, but his roommate Mark argued differently. Mark was constantly trying to take Taeyong out after work or on the weekends and sure Taeyong would tag along for the occasional and even went on the god awful dates Mark set up for him but Taeyong simply didn’t like to step out of his comfort zone, who does?

Taeyong didn’t like to see himself as OCD, he just really enjoyed routine and HATED change more than anything else. Taeyong also hated Mark’s lack of tidiness and the amount of girls and friends he had over constantly but Mark was a good friend so he never said anything about it.

Back to the chaotic girl. Now Taeyong didn’t have the time, of course, to even think twice about this girl. But as fate would have it the world wanted him to think about her, no not just think, RUN INTO her. Taeyong spilled his morning coffee on her already stained sweatshirt and the bag of groceries she was carrying spilled onto the sidewalk between the two of them.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” She smiled up at Taeyong and started picking up her groceries.

Taeyong muttered a simple “it’s okay.” and helped her with her groceries, then he remembered his morning coffee was now being worn by this woman.

“I’m so sorry about the coffee. Do you want some money for dry-cleaning or something?”

“Don’t worry about it, I should probably throw this old thing out anyways! Have a nice day, sir!” The girl quickly picked up her bag and ran off in the opposite direction. Taeyong was a mix of intrigue and bugged, he was going to be late for work, a first for him. He quickly shook his head and headed in the direction for work.

All day Taeyong could not get his mind off of her. His co-workers kept asking if he was okay and he kindly nodded and just said he was tired. He couldn’t decide what it was about her that he was so intrigued by, it obviously wasn’t the fact that she was so completely his opposite, or the fact that she had called him SIR (that made him shudder, maybe Mark was right he should start dressing younger) but he decide it was her carefree aura and her smile... he swore it was brighter than Orion on a winter night.

Taeyong continued on with his week just the same, but still kept thinking about the girl, he wished he had at least caught her name. He also thought he was being ridiculous and a bit naive, he would most likely never see her again and he definitely didn’t need another distraction in his life (Mark had a new girlfriend that was a bit loud for Taeyong’s taste but still very nice and she obviously made Mark happy). The universe is a telling creature because when Taeyong got to work that morning he reached into his bag and felt something that obviously was not his. It was a worn out notebook, leather-bound with notes and papers sticking out of every which end. Taeyong was obviously intrigued and removed the elastic strap and started reading. It was filled with poems, lyrics, and cute drawings. But Taeyong stopped reading as soon as he realized what he was doing, this wasn’t his notebook and he definitely didn’t have permission to go rifling through random notebooks that weren’t his. But... Taeyong wondered is her number or name in it? He carefully opened the notebook back up and saw it there on the front page.. her name followed by a phone number. Should he?

“Helllo?” Taeyong smiled. So it was her number!

“Um, hi. I think I um... accidentally ran into you the other day and picked up your notebook by accident.”

“OH MY GOD! I have been looking for that everywhere! Wait, did you read it?”

Taeyong paused.

“OH MY GOD YOU TOTALLY READ IT!”

“No no I was just um-I uh- well.”

“Oh my gosh I was totally teasing you. Thanks for calling! Do you think you could bring it over to my place? I’m kind of in the middle of a huge project right now and I’d hate to interrupt my work flow by going out.”

“Uh yeah sure!”

“Perfect! I’ll text you my address.. What’s your name by the way? Boy who ran into me and stole my notebook is kind of long for a contact name.”

Taeyong laughed and gave her his name and promised to stop by as soon as he clocked out.

The rest of the day seemed to go by so slowly for Taeyong. He was so nervous to meet her for some reason and he was even more upset that he had taken to Mark’s advice and dressed younger, he looked ridiculous.

As soon as five hit Taeyong practically sprinted out of the office to get on the bus. He followed the map on his phone and buzzed her when he got to the building.

“Hi it’s Taeyong!”

“Perfect I’ll let you up.”

Taeyong took the stairs as slowly as he could manage, he definitely didn’t want to seem as eager as he was feeling. He got to her door, took a deep breath and knocked.

“Hi!” There she was, almost in the same state as when he had first met her, stained sweatshirt and all.

“Oh yeah I know I said I’d get rid of this but it’s too comfortable to throw away. Come in I just put tea on.”

Taeyong followed her in and immediately went into sensory overload. Easels were scattered throughout, some fully finished some blank and some with just a stroke or two on them. Paper also littered the floor and he noticed a few items of clothing laying in random places around the room.

“You should be glad I just cleaned. It was a mess before!” She looked at Taeyong and winked.

Taeyong quietly chuckled and followed her to the couch, but not before moving a shirt and a few notebooks.

“So why is this notebook so important to you?”

She smiled at looked at Taeyong. “Well if you haven’t noticed I’m an artist or well I try to be anyways. That notebook was my very first one I got and it’s filled with my best ideas. Wouldn’t want to lose that!”

Taeyong reached into his bag and handed her the notebook.

“Do you want to see some of my art?”

Taeyong nodded his head and followed her around the art-filled room. They walked around and she explained some pieces to him when one in particular stood out to him. It was neater and more refined than the others, but sadder in a sense. On the canvas was a deep blue and black ocean and the sky was dark and stormy but in the middle of the ocean was a hand reaching out for help and in the background was the faintest sight of a light-someone coming to help the person below the waves.

“I just finished that one. It’s a bit depressing-yeah? I wanted to try out something different, someone recently told me to paint more of what’s truly inside of me instead of focusing on what I want others to see.”

Taeyong felt a certain pull to the painting and turned to her.

“I really love it. It’s depressing but also-hopeful? I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I’m glad you like it. My buyer thought it was too depressing for my usual clientele so I guess it’ll live here for now.” She sighed and went to pour them some tea.

They sipped quietly on their tea and Taeyong was trying to find the courage to ask her on a date.

“Hey Taeyong can I tell you something?”

Taeyong nodded.

“I’m sure you aren’t usually into people like me, I mean I’m a bit of a mess but I just wanted to let you know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you.” She blushed and set down her tea cup.

“I felt exactly the same way, it’s crazy. It’s like the universe wanted me to run into you.”

She smiled and reached for his hand. “I’d love to go out with you sometime, if that’s alright with you?”

Taeyong smiled and boldly moved across the table to plant a kiss on her very kissable lips. When he pulled away he noticed some paint from her shirt had gotten onto his. Maybe a little disruption to his dreary routine would be the much needed change he needed.

#taeyong #nct #nct 127 #nct taeyong #disruption #hongseoksshoes #nct au #nct scenario #taeyong aesthetic #taeyong fic #nct fic #taeyong au #taeyong scenario #taeyong imagines #nct imagines #kpop #kpop au

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adleryoung · 5 years

Photo

"So, um, do those talking bugs work for you?" P.J. asked. "I'm pretty sure I have seen that big one before - only she wasn't a bug. I bought my fake mustache from her."

"Minister of Disinformation!" I exclaimed, ignoring whatever it was he was babbling about. "You need a suit of armor as well! A resplendent outfit to proclaim your status as an official Cabinet Minister on the battlefield! Hold still."

"You're welcome to try," P.J. scoffed. "But I am warded against all forms of elf magi-AWK!"

"See there, my dear?" I asked Ethel as I proudly pointed at my handiwork. Estvan had been right; magick WAS a lot easier to do in the lowfolk world! "A complete and truly fine-looking suit of armor, perfectly fitted and made instantly, at no cost to you."

"I can't move," P.J. groaned.

"That's precisely the problem," Ethel pointed out. "Plate armor is useless now that we have portable guns that fire with more force than a longbow, and can be reloaded in less than a minute. A bullet will punch right through this junk. And if we're fighting trees, being able to move faster than they can will be our biggest advantage. It would be best to have light armor that allows full freedom of movement and won't weigh you down."

"I know just the thing!" I exclaimed with sudden inspiration.

"WHAT THE HELL??" Ethel screeched when she realized what I had transmogrified her clothes into.

"That's a style of armor with a long, proud history," I explained. "It was worn by a legendary warrior -"

"I CAN'T GO AROUND IN PUBLIC LIKE THIS!" Ethel yelled. "I'm practically NAKED! People will think I'm one of those bawdy-house dancers here to delight them, not fight them!"

"Use that to lull them into a false sense of security, and catch them off guard," I advised.

"NO!" she bellowed. "Change it! NOW!!!"

"All right, all right, all right!" I exclaimed. "Stop whacking me upside the head! I get the message! You don't want armor, okay, that's fine. How about some nice quasi-military uniforms? Here's a serviceable design from the most militaristic society I know.."

I waved my fingers and conjured up simple Vulpitanian-style uniforms for Ethel and P.J.

"Are all elves perverts?" Ethel demanded. "Is this your idea of a uniform? The neckline is too low, the hemline is too high, and the skirt is much too tight to walk around in! Again I feel more like a tavern dancer than an officer."

"Well, I gave you an outfit that allowed complete freedom of movement, and you didn't like it," I retorted.

"Just give me back the clothes I was wearing when I arrived here," she sighed. "We have more important things to deal with."

"YOU!" Ethel barked at the Special Abilities Ladybird Vendicatrix, who was trying (and failing) to climb a tree. "COME HERE!"

"Yes ma'am, War Marshal, ma'am," the very large Ixie chirped as she snapped to attention and saluted us.

"What's your name, Ixie?" Ethel asked.

"They call me Angela Weakflit, LOL," the Ixie replied.

"Have you always been a member of His Lordship's elite bug troops?"

"Oh no ma'am. Teh Ominous Orse has strict membership requirements. I wanted 2 join 4 teh longest time, but only recently did I prove my worth & finally get in."

"And did you ever sell a false mustache to that useless bird over there?" Ethel asked, pointing at P.J.

"He mite B mistaken N his recollection," Angela replied with a shrug. "Elfs dont lye .. & Ixies dont either I guess."

"And so your loyalty to His Lordship is beyond question then, is it?"

"Oh ma'am, if U onely knew," Angela sighed. "Never N my life have I felt so welcomed as I have since joining teh Ominous Orse. There since of comraderie, there complete acceptance of me as I am .. for teh 1st time evar, I feel like I belong. I want 2 stay hear 4evar! I dont even want 2 relay teh tactical secrets to Vulpitania, LOL."

"Your story truly warms my heart, Angela," I said as I tried to hold back tears. "I'm so proud of my Ixies right now."

#furry #elves #silly #story #adventure #plot #cartoon #tboay

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haruki-ya · 5 years

Text

Icy

Summary: Ok so, here's another self indulgent non-canon complacent aged up AU thing where Kaneda and the Capsules, who are more a gang of friends as opposed to a real gang, work with Joker at his automotive shop. Joker runs a black market parts ring under the table which brings all kinds of customers into the shop: Kei is one of them, still a prominent member of the Resistance that continues to fight against the government's unethical and unlawful treatment of it's citizens. Going into the shop, Kei naturally means business so of course, in comparison, Kaneda does not.

What follows is a tense test of wills. One icy, iron clad, seemingly impenetrable. The other aloof, arrogant, endlessly aggravating. Despite the mutual pain they cause one another, both get something out if it in the end. Even if it's not exactly what either of them really wants.

A/N: tbh it’s p much just an excuse for me to write out how I see the foundation of kaneda and kei’s relationship, who are 18 and 20 here respectively...and for me to keep everyone alive lmao. also full disclosure I know nothing about tanks and just picked some parts at random to throw in the story and this is really long i’m sorry haha ok bye

The bell ringing on the shop door as it opens catches Kaneda’s attention, makes him look up past his Shonen Jump and crossed feet on the counter.

There are a few customers wandering around the store, but they’ve been here for at least ten minutes, discouraged by his inattentive, uncaring demeanor- good. He doesn’t wanna explain to them which motor oil would be best for their shitty Honda Accords or where exactly you’re supposed to put the damn transmission fluid. It may be his job, but god damn if it isn’t annoying answering the same stupid questions day in day out. Kaneda hopes whoever entered won’t bother him with twenty useless questions, but with his luck they’ll be askin thirty-five.

The door closes softly with a tinkle and Kaneda takes a cursory glance at the woman who entered before turning his attention back to his magazine- hoping to keep up the air of “leave me the fuck alone" -but that’s before his brain really processes who exactly walked in the store. Or more like what. An angel? He does an unashamed double take.

Kaneda is drawn immediately in by her tight clothes, her straight posture, her well coiffed appearance. The coldness of her features are striking against the warmth of her yellow toned coat, the tan of her flawless skin. Her very presence is captivating, even from across the small store: his eyes are positively glued to the tall, trim figure that sticks out like a sore thumb in the dirty lobby of Joker’s Automotive Inc.

If Kaneda were any less observant, he would immediately write her off as just another flirt lookin’ for a fly to catch- for a free tune up from the eager boys in back. But her hands, while well manicured, look worn, scarred. The sweep of her head left to right is observant, but not of the products lining their isles of shelves: of the people moving between them. Calculating risks, weighing options.

Those are not qualities you find in your run of the mill city girl.

She treads softly towards Kaneda, but her gait speaks purpose. Her heels click click click steadily on the checkered linoleum floor, not asking for attention, demanding. Her eyes are covered by darkly tinted shades, but Kaneda can still see that she is looking at him…and he can’t fight a dopey smile from spreading on his face. She doesn’t smile back.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

“What can I do for ya’ miss?” She’s only about two feet away now and her approach slows as Kaneda uncrosses his feet and tosses his magazine off to the side. She stops right as Kaneda’s feet stomp on the ground and he pushes himself up to his full height, only slightly bothered by the fact that she lords over him a solid three inches. Must be the heels.

“I’m here to speak with Joker.” Her voice oh shit is sweet like honey, burns in his veins like aged whiskey. She sounds just like she looks: bold, purposeful, husky in that sensual feminine way. Ready to cut to the chase and get down to business. Kaneda idly thinks he hasn’t taken to a girl so quickly in his whole life- and that may actually be true this time.

Kaneda keeps up his wide smile and air of politeness as he spreads his hands in an apologetic manner. Her face remains coldly detached- unimpressed. Time to up the ante.

“Sorry miss, but Joker’s not in right now. What is it you’re lookin’ for? I’m sure I could be much more helpful in satisfying your needs.” Now that garners a reaction. A slight twitch of the lips, one slowly raised eyebrow. She takes a step forward, now standing more around four inches taller than Kaneda. He cocks his head to the side as her eyes narrow behind her shades.

“You misunderstood. I’m here to talk to Joker, in private.” And that garners a reaction from him.

Sure, people come in asking for Joker all the time. It is his shop after all. Kaneda and the boys just work here. But people only ask twice and in private for jobs that don’t get written into the books- not the federally taxed ones anyway.

Joker runs a black market parts ring under the table, steals and deals high demand items for a specific type of clientele: a specific high paying type of clientele. Joker meets with the customer, estimates the plausibility of their demand, Joker gets paid to complete it, the boys help make arrangements for it, Joker gets it, the boys deliver it. Simple as that.

It’s become as easy as breathing for Kaneda and co., who have no problem with the risks and dangers of such a, well, risky and dangerous job. It’s only cause the pay is borderline lucrative and Kaneda and the boys never really have been good at being good.

What is a pretty girl like her doing asking for a service like that? Kaneda is only growing more intrigued- more eager to make her lose her temper. Something in Kaneda wants so desperately to see that cool facade crack, to see her calm, poised air fall under his “charismatic” ways. He’s always been good at pushing buttons. It really is a wonder he usually gets stuck with counter duty.

“Well, I understand alright, but there’s not much I can do for you since he’s not in right now.” Her face falls back into it’s stony mask and Kaneda shoves his foot in his mouth trying to remedy the situation, wanting to keep up the progression of facial expressions, not shut them down before the real fun starts.

“I can take a name and message though no sweat...and if you’re feeling generous maybe you could throw in your number, just for me.” She crosses her arms swiftly at Kaneda’s broad smile, at his wink- worth a shot.

“When will he be back in?” She chooses not to acknowledge Kaneda’s advance, bold choice he will admit, but only because that means he has to try harder now.

Kaneda shrugs, starts picking at his nails as if he doesn’t really care- but he does, of course. Anyone coming through looking for Joker is just as important to Kaneda as to the big lard-ass himself. They’re both paying his bills after all.

“Not sure miss, I’m not his damn secretary...I’m sure he’d consider you for the job though. One look at you and you’re hired. It'd be nice to have a pretty face hangin' around for once.” Yet another twitch of the lips, a shift in her solid stance.

“Is there a manager in store aside from Joker?” There’s a hint of thinly veiled impatience in her voice and Kaneda grins to himself on the inside. Jackpot.

“Yup! You’re looking at ‘em! All special requests go through me, the right hand man.” Kaneda too crosses his arms, puffs out his chest and widens his stance a little bit to mirror her power pose. “But that’s beside the point, your number on the other hand…”

Something like a smile- more a smirk than anything holy shit -melts away her frown as she slowly, deliberately lowers her shades down the bridge of her nose to glance at Kaneda’s chest. Impressed by his buff arms, no doubt.

“You’re no manager. That much is clear.” Kaneda’s smile twitches, but holds strong. That obvious challenge of his authority, the combative look that glitters in her bright eyes, is not what he expected, but certainly isn’t enough to throw him off balance. Right?

“And what makes you say that?”

“Your name tag is upside down...Mr. Shotaro.” Kaneda flushes at her mocking tone, her confident smirk, resists the urge to fix his name tag which upon a quick glance downwards- yup, is indeed upside down. He plays it cool instead. Or tries to.

“That’s-that’s just the new style. Someone like you wouldn’t know how the working class operates anyhow!”

“Oh, and what exactly makes you say that?” There’s a real edge to her voice now as she parrots Kaneda’s words and he doesn’t miss the way her hands clench slowly into fists. As is she wants to smack him right where he stands, but is holding herself back. A real spitfire he sees. Kaneda uncrosses his arms to throw a hand on his hip and a cocky smile on his face and goes in for the kill.

“Haha really? You look like you haven’t worked a day in your whole life. Probably live off of daddy’s hard earned money. You even know what a tax refund is doll face?”

The woman’s whole demeanor seems to shift at that. There’s nothing subtle about it, like watching fast approaching thunderclouds roll quickly, all encompassing, over skyscrapers and cityscapes. Throwing the people caught underneath into a panic. Powerless against the force of Mother Nature.

Kaneda swallows hard and strains his smile in the hopes that she can’t sense his sudden discomfort. Maybe he shouldn’t have called her doll face...

“I’ll leave a message for Joker. I’d hate to run into you again were I to come back. Get a pen and paper ready, I won’t repeat myself.” Her voice has dropped an octave, entered a dangerous, very obvious territory of “try me again ”.

And so naturally, of course, Kaneda does.

“Hah, pen and paper, how hard can your order be babe? Need an oil change? A custom made paint job for your bug? Want me to show you how to properly lubricate your bearings while we’re at it?” Still, despite his nasty jest, he lazily reaches for a pad of paper and a pen. Just to humor her.

And well, to write down her order with.

He’s a jackass and a dumbass, but rarely both at the same time. Is leaning more towards the former at this particular moment.

A fierce scowl mars her pretty face and god damn how does that make her more attractive? She takes another step closer, body flush with the counter, and Kaneda gets a good whiff of her perfume: green tea leaves, bright citrus, and just a hint of earthy sandalwood. Definitely angelic then.

“You’re absolutely disgustingly insufferable.” Her eyes, like her words, are sharp, a biting amber that cut straight through Kaneda, make his knees almost feel weak. Her lashes are long, bat furiously against the rim of her shades.

“And you’re just too damn sweet.” And honestly, he does mean that. Kaneda’s certainly been called much worse.

Sighing sharply out her nose, she uncrosses her arms and leans away. Shakes her head almost imperceptibly in - disgust? disapproval? Probably both if Kaneda’s involved, but he’s confident she’ll come around. That he’ll be able to coax a smile out of her after he makes her scowl a whole bunch more first. He wants to see the calm beyond her stormy demeanor, to know what else can be found beyond her icy expressions.

Right as he’s about to try again, she jerks her head towards him and speaks lowly. Drops her crossed arms to cock her hip and place her hand on her waist, a mirror image of Kaneda's own posture. He notices the fingers of her other hand tap steadily at her thigh.

“I need one GE T700 gas turbine engine, two M1 fume extractors, four drive sprockets, two sixteen toothed the other twenty, approximately seven and a half gallons of liquid EN 1063, and maybe if you’re feeling generous you could throw in a little respect ...just for me and my high paying associates. Does that sound doable?”

Kaneda’s jaw flaps like a fish out of water, both at her deadpan tone and the order itself. Does that sound doable?

“Are you trying to build a fucking tank?!” Is what he blurts out and it’s obviously the wrong thing to say, even Kaneda knows that before seeing her face close off again and something downright unpleasant twist her features. Long gone is that pretty girl scowl, replaced in turn by pure scorn.

Man, cute but intimidating. Who knew that was his type?

“...Right, tell Joker Ryu won’t be happy. Especially not with you, Shotaro Kaneda.” The threat in her voice is just that, a threat. Very real, very pressing, and Kaneda actually does know why he’s put on counter duty so often- he’s good at weeding out potential, at differentiating between empty threats and real ones. And this bitch of a beauty is dishing out some serious, “you’re gonna regret this” vibes.

His words stumble over themselves as she turns sharply on her heel, as if to leave, because Kaneda just can’t have that, pride and joy be damned.

“Wait, wait, wait, look, I’m sorry! I, uh, I’m sorry I haven’t been taking you seriously. I just, well...don’t see a lot of pretty faces like yours 'round here. I couldn’t help myself…and that order request? Totally not what I was expecting either.” She halts suddenly, spins around once again and glowers at him before re-crossing her arms. They’re just feeding off one another’s tension at this point.

“And what were you expecting? That I’d come straight in asking for the Shotaro Special and have you take me to the break room for a good time?” God damn, she fired that one back quick as a whip, a fire in her voice that ignites so suddenly even Kaneda is weary of continuing his little game with her.

“Uh, well...if that’s what you want, I only aim to please the high paying customer.” But he’s truly sincerely never been good with self control.

“You’re arrogance has no end, does it…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll grow on ya’.” He always does.

“Who says I’ll be back?” And at this Kaneda raises a brow, smirks at her ruffled expression and leans towards it with both palms flush on the counter. There’s a newfound confidence in his words with the ball safely back in his court.

“If you’re serious about this order, no one but Joker can get what you need...I can call him up right now and toss it his way, see what he has to say about it. Or you can go try your luck elsewhere. Be my guest, miss. You won’t find service quite like ours anywhere else though.”

She stares at him intensely with those bright amber eyes of hers, unblinking, unmoving. Pensive. Kaneda thinks he broke her up until the point where she sighs out her nose and uncrosses her arms. It’s as good an invitation to continue as any. Kaneda smiles and pushes off the counter, picks up the pen by his hand and starts to twirl it.

“You mentioned the name Rua?”

“...Ryu. He’s made orders with Joker before. Shouldn’t be a problem but if he asks tell him Kei personally came in to meet with him.” The woman- no, Kei -speaks through a frown, obviously not wanting to accept his apology, but willing to work with it anyway. Smart, sassy, sexy. She just keeps getting better and better.

“Kei, huh.” Three different meanings come to mind: respect, blessing, wise. “…It suits you.”

Kei must sense the shift in his tone, the sincerity in his voice because her brows furrow in thought before she accepts the comment. “...Thank you.” Although begrudgingly, if her hesitation is anything to go by.

Kaneda sends her a smile, not sarcastic, not teasing. About as genuine as Kaneda can manage in this situation. It quickly warps into one of sheepishness though, as he begins to rub nervously at the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Uh, hey though, listen...I know you said you wouldn’t repeat yourself…” Kei sighs and holds out her hand, acting put upon by his attitude and really...it’s probably not an act at this point. Maybe he should tone it down.

“Give me that, I’ll write the order down.” With a laugh he hands over the pad of paper, stained with an aged brown coffee ring, and the pen he’s been fiddling with. Their skin brushes against one another during the exchange and Kaneda’s attention is once more drawn to the elegant shape of her hands, the scars both old and new that mar them. Her skin is soft despite the raised tissue, the callouses, and he swallows around an urge to feel her hands held fully within his own.

“I gotta know, since me and my boys will be the ones getting all this shit…are you trying to build a tank?” He diverts both their attention with that one, tries to keep his mind strictly business from here on out. Kei hums to acknowledge she heard him, but has bent low over the counter to focus on what she’s writing.

“Ultimately...yes. With some minor adjustments here and there.”

“What the ever loving hell do you need a tank for? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think that’s incredibly se-super badass of you but also uh...a bit big to be riding down the street to the grocery store with.” Nice save, Shotaro. Pet names and compliments, not compatible with Kei. Time to keep it strictly business.

Kei glances at him above the rim of her sunglasses, before turning her attention back to the paper. “...I don’t think you’re a trustworthy person to confide in with such information, Shotaro.” The finality of her tone almost makes Kaneda pout, almost, but he has appearances to uphold here.

“Awe come on! S’not like anyone would believe me if I told them some chick named Kei walked in with her heels and shades asking for parts to build a tank with.” Where Kaneda laughs, Kei scowls. Sends him another shaded glare. She’s just bursting at the seams with those isn’t she?

“So that means you would tell someone.” Not a question so much a statement and Kaneda backtracks again as her eyes stare accusingly at him. She straightens to her full height and damn, is she five inches taller than him now?

“Wha-wait, no, that was just a what if scenario-” Kei cuts him off with a clipped tone. Strictly business.

“The people I work with don’t have time for loose lipped gossip let alone what if scenarios, do you understand? There is more at stake here than you could ever understand.”

Kaneda, believe it or not, is growing tired of her cold seriousness, of her combative nature- despite himself probably being the driving cause behind it. He thinks at the very least there’s more to her than a pretty face and bitchy attitude and he's just about past the point of wanting to get a rise out of her, bored with his own tactics. He knows now that joking and flirting with her only tightens the reins on her formal cordiality, so he’s at least trying to make an effort and level with her here.

He just hopes not too late.

“Then help me understand. I got things at stake here too, this job, running parts, I like to know what I’m getting myself into beforehand. I’d be putting my ass on the line for you in this situation after all…I’ll personally accept a date as safety insurance though.” Kaneda, acting on instinct as always, is unable to keep that last bit to himself. Is sure she’ll roll her eyes at that one, maybe shoot him a scorching look, but all he gets is an exasperated sigh. A considerate head tilt.

Is that a hint of amusement he sees on her face?

“...When Joker gets in, ask him about the Resistance. I trust him to tell you more about it, about us. Ryu is a strong figurehead in the fight against government tyranny...he’s truly an inspiring man. These parts are detrimental to the success of our next plan to keep the fight in our favor. The last engine we had failed on us before we even left the compound.”

Kaneda, ever curious, can’t help but ask, “And that was?”

“Honeywell AGT1500. A little too old to keep up with our movements, I think.” Kaneda whistles lowly and crosses his arms at her response, a polar shift in their dynamics from the beginning of their fast paced back and forth banter. The tension between them is all but gone now and Kei’s words seem to flow freely and easily. That chip on her shoulder gone with Kaneda’s flirtiness- almost -in check.

“Now where the hell did you get an engine like that?”

“Probably the same place Joker will be getting this newer model.” She pauses to hold up the piece of paper with the order details written neatly on it before sliding it face down towards him.

“This city is full of surprises if you know where to look.”

“Huh…” Kaneda makes a thoughtful noise as he presses his palm flat over the paper. “I gotta say Kei, you’re not what I expected.”

And that comment, the one that usually always rubs people the wrong way, makes her lips curve into the closest thing to a true smile Kaneda has seen throughout the past ten minutes of conversation. If her scowl is hot, makes his knees weak, Kaneda can’t even begin to describe what her small little grin does to him.

Kei tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before replying and Kaneda has to hold himself back from chasing the action, from feeling the softness of her short hair between his own fingers. Damn, he’s got it bad for this girl.

“Let me guess, you thought you had me pegged the moment I walked in. You seem the type to care solely about appearances. Or should I say shallowly .” Kaneda laughs at her comment, lost on cloud nine, and opts to take it lightly despite the slight insult to her words.

Puts a spin on his response, just for her.

“I’m a simple man, can’t deny that, but you...you hold yourself in a different way. Your hands aren’t those of a good for nothin' free loader, I was lying when I said you probably haven’t worked a day in your life. You work plenty, and you work hard at that. Can see it in your eyes, the set of your shoulders too…there’s definitely more to you than just a pretty face.”

Kei is silent at that, her small smile gone. On her face is a new expression, one that almost looks frightened. For a moment Kaneda thinks he said something wrong, should have held his tongue like he’s never been good at doing. Strictly business and all that.

Kei's eyes bore into Kaneda’s own, gleaming in the fluorescent light like two firm copper coins. Her lips part slowly as if she is about to speak, but she quickly purses her lips instead and pushes her shades up to settle more firmly on the bridge of her nose. She takes a step back and...is that a flush Kaneda sees on her cheeks?

Check and mate.

“...I guess looks can be deceiving, no?” Her voice has gone low, almost soft, just shy of sweet and Kaneda very suddenly thinks he might be in love.

“You’re not wrong there.” Is what he says quietly in response and they stand, facing each other, for a long moment. It’s almost tender, their silence. Almost pleasant.

Until Kei clears her throat suddenly and clasps her hands behind her back. The moment is broken, but will be long from forgotten.

“Well...I’ve got to head out, handle a few more matters. Thank you for your help Kaneda, I hope to hear from Joker soon. Although, before I go, I must admit...I’m glad you recognize that I’m not one to mess around.”

Before Kaneda can say anything else, throw back some smart ass rebuttal or maybe just gawk at this amazingly unexpectedly enigmatic woman, Kei turns on her heel and click click clicks her way out the door just like she came in. Kaneda stares after her for a minute, caught up in the faint trace of her perfume that still lingers in the air. He’s not so sure she’s an angel anymore...maybe a devil in disguise.

But that works even better in his favor.

A loud klang from the door behind him makes Kaneda jump to attention and jerk around. Tetsuo is standing there, scowl on his face, oil smeared on his forehead, wiping a lug wrench clean(ish) with a dirty rag.

“I thought Joker said no more girls on the job.” Kaneda rolls his eyes and snags the list of items Kei wrote out from the counter. Very deliberately doesn’t correct Tetsuo and let’s him think she is his girl. No harm no foul.

“You’re just jealous that I’m not stuck doin’ oil changes.”

That seems to bowl away whatever comment Tetsuo had, because he scowls and mutters something- not kindly -under his breath. Kaneda can’t even be bothered. A goofy grin that’s been itching to surface manages to overtake his face now that Kei is gone- not for good. She’ll be frequenting his thoughts for probably the rest of the week.

“Whatever asshole, I’m off on lunch right now. Want Kai to take over and grab a bite with me since it’s slow?” Kaneda is touched by Tetsuo’s offer and expresses as much by clasping his hands over his heart, batting his eyes dramatically. He’s feeling all kinds of giddy after his talk with mysterious miss Kei.

“Oh Tetsuo! I thought you’d never ask! I’m so flattered that you feel this way for me, so strongly that you’d ask me out to lunch!” Tetsuo rolls his eyes at Kaneda’s antics and chucks the dirty rag in his hand at Kaneda, who throws his arm up to block the nasty thing from touching his face.

It’s then, when he’s face to face with her elegant scrawl, that Kaneda realizes he’s still holding the list of items that Kei wrote down. And that there’s also a phone number hastily scrawled below a separate note near the bottom. Kaneda shakes the rag off his forearm and eagerly reads Kei's elegant script.

Don’t even think of contacting me outside of business matters. This number isn’t for personal use, I have a separate phone for that. Maybe if you weren’t

Be less of an ass next time.

- Kei

Kaneda stops moving, stops thinking, stops breathing. There’s no way...He’s always been good at recognizing an opportunity when he sees one. And that hesitantly written note right there, with it’s crossed out words and clumsy scrawl in stark contrast to the rest of Kei’s neatly written list, means he has a chance.

He has a goddamn chance!

“A chance for what?” Tetsuo, once again, ruins the moment with his sour tone but Kaneda is through the roof with excitement, can’t hold back the whoop of happiness he lets out as he throws himself suddenly at Tetsuo, locks him into a bear hug. He ignores Tetsuo’s indignation, “Hey dumbass, let me go! What the hell is your problem?!”, and instead places a fat kiss on his friends grimy cheek. Laughs at the flush that colors Tetsuo’s face when he pulls away.

“Sorry Tets, rain check on lunch! I’ve got “after hours” business to discuss with Joker. Oh, but grab me a bento while you’re out!” Tetsuo scowls at him and rolls his eyes while violently wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Yeah right asshole. Don’t fuck around for too long or Yama will rip you a new one!” Tetsuo ducks quickly back through the doorway leading to the garage, probably hoping to evade another Kaneda brand affection attack, but it’s a useless gesture.

He’s only got one person in mind he wants to really share those with.

After hurling back a customary, “No promises!”, Kaneda resumes his stationary position in the chair behind the counter, kicks his feet up and reaches for the phone. Impatient to start his homework. After dialing the familiar number, it takes only a short moment for the person on the other end to pick up. Kaneda can’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Hey Joker, it’s Kaneda...had someone come in looking for you a minute ago, she went by the name Kei...yeah, she did...tell me first though, how much do you know about her?”

This is going to be fun.

#akira #kanekei #kaneda #kei #akira au #fuck me honestly #ughdbdhdj #my writing #just throw me off a cliff now #my work here is DONE #there's so much djknklnsdjcna #like where the hell did this come from......i really don't kno

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davidfarland · 6 years

Text

Writing Easy, Writing Hard

One of my Facebook friends today put up a message that said, “Fewer people would take up writing if they knew just how hard it really is.”

She’s right. Writing does look simple, and in fact, when you first start out, very often it is. I have a saying, “Writing is easy, but writing beautifully can be terribly hard.”

It’s much like running a marathon. Traveling 24 miles at a snail’s pace over a period of months is easy. In fact, you’ll do it over the next few months just walking to the bathroom. But if you’re in a tough race, in bad weather, and one of your shoes blows out, that’s when it gets difficult.

The good news is that writing beautifully does get easy again with practice!

Let me explain what is going on. When you first start writing, you very often have low expectations for yourself. You’re writing as a hobby, perhaps, and as you create imaginary characters and have stories take shape in your head, it all seems wondrous.

But when you decide to go pro, to try to get published, the difficulty level of the work increases dramatically. You suddenly find that you need to complete say two or three books per year, and they all have to be written to professional standards.

So you ratchet up your literary sensibilities, you look at your work far more critically, you study the works of your competition, strategize how to work in the current market, and you raise the bar for yourself.

That’s all good. You won’t get anywhere with flabby writing, cardboard characters, and worn plots. Suddenly the writing task becomes real work, sometimes grueling work. As one of my mentors, Orson Scott Card put it, “Sometimes it feels as if I’m bleeding from every pore.”

This “difficult” phase of writing often lasts for years, and in fact, I would go so far as to say that in most novels, you’ll reach critical points where you find that it is much harder than you ever thought it would be. If you’re doing it right, if you’re trying to gain huge audiences and win literary acclaim, you ought to be straining to be your very best.

But there is a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson that I memorized as a teen that has always been of help to me. He said, “That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do, not that the nature of the thing has changed but that our power to do has increased.”

In short, if you persist in doing something that feels almost impossible, your ability to do it increases. You begin to internalize the lessons you’re trying to learn, to the point that writing beautifully becomes second nature—and in fact, at a certain point in time, you will feel almost incapable of writing crud. At that point, the fans who read your work will almost feel as if you have magical powers, that you’re doing things no human should be able to do.

There are times when you reach a deep creative state of mind, when you feel almost as if you are living through your story and merely racing to report on it, and writing becomes not only easy, but can even rouse a state of euphoria. Reaching that creative state (the gamma state), requires you to go into a sort of trance. Reaching that state can be learned, and can even be easy to do, unless you have some physical limitation that keeps you from reaching it.

So writing badly is easy. Writing beautifully can sometimes feel impossibly hard—until it all becomes easy again, and incredibly fun.

Composing can be easy, but the more difficult part in career management often has to do with things like marketing. That comes easily for me, but many writers either try to spend too much time marketing, or just try to forget about it altogether.

Then there are some physical challenges, things like travel. That’s a tough one for me. I have chronic allergies to perfumes and hairsprays, along with deodorants and cleaners used in hotel rooms, so each time that I go to a convention I have a good chance of coming down with “con crud” afterward, which generally just means an overall sense of achiness and fatigue.

In fact, a couple of weeks ago I went to a little convention and came home with some bug that just kept getting worse. I didn’t want to let it slow down my writing, so I took vitamins and ignored it, until I finally went to the doctor and found that I had walking pneumonia. No big deal. Writing doesn’t take much physical exertion, right?

So yesterday I got up and decided to spend the Fourth of July writing in the morning before celebrating with the family. I worked for several hours, finished a big project, then sent it to my agent. But all during the writing session I kept feeling more and more ill, so as soon as I got the file off to my agent, I went to the emergency room, where some blood tests showed that in addition to the walking pneumonia, I had developed a secondary infection.

Today I’m feeling much better, so I will celebrate by writing some more!

What am I getting at here? Writing can be hard, and indeed sometimes it should be, but as you grow as a writer, the words begin to flow much more easily.

If you’re going to enter this career, be realistic about the demands.

#writing #writer #writing tip #writing tips #writing tips and tricks #author #editor #writing lesson #writing lessons #writeblr #writerblr #writing advice #creative writing #fiction writing

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hqimaginess · 6 years

Note

oh shit i’m so sorry the request I sent it was so unclear I was just a little bit too excited when i sent it in :( let me try this again. Engaged!Iwaoi are setup with an additional person in their relationship by their parents for whatever reason. It wouldn’t really be a problem, if not for their best friend (reader) having feelings for them. So then new fiancé befriends reader, and she see reader’s heart break because her Iwaoi are too blind to see that it should be reader in her place.

This seriously took such a long time and I’m sorry for that :( Hope you like it though whew!

His eyes were tired and worn, his entire being appearing to be spent. “I don’t know what to do here, mom. Things lately just haven’t been…working with us. I don’t know how to explain it, it just hasn’t been the same with us,” Iwaizumi explained with a large exhale, resting his head in his hands as he sat across the table from the woman. “Not working” was a very simple way to put how things how things had been going between Iwaizumi and his fiance recently. Nonstop fighting, unending tension, ceaseless friction. Whatever it was that was happening between Iwaizumi and Oikawa, neither of them seemed to know how to fix it. So this is where he was now, sitting across from his mother, pleading for guidance.

For a short while, all he got from his mother was a small hum of acknowledgment, the woman calmly tapping her fingers against the table as she seemed to contemplate. “Ah,” she finally spoke, smiling satisfactorily. “Sometimes, when a relationship goes through a dip, especially in engagements like these, they add a third party. You’d be surprised how common it is,” these words came out of the woman’s mouth with ease, his mother speaking as if this would without effort solve all of his issues. Iwaizumi looked up at her in surprise, his eyebrows raised and his mouth agape, “A third party? How can you just suggest that as if that would easily fix everything? How can you suggest that as if it’s that easy to just find a third party? Whatever that means, anyway.” His mother merely smiled, waving off her son’s frustration, “Hajime, calm yourself. Listen, just think it over. Give yourself time to consider it and then bring it up to Tooru. He’ll say yes, I promise you. Just think about it.” There was a silence that settled between the mother and her son, an uncomfortable one at that. “Oh, and, about finding someone for it, don’t worry about that. I’ll have it figured out,” she added, her sly looking smile widening slightly.

Iwaizumi’s defence softened a little, as he didn’t want to fight his mother on this, at least not again. He leaned back in his chair, now looking out the window as he mumbled a soft, “I don’t know.”

Time passed, and everything went as planned. At least, everything went as his mother planned. Oikawa agreed to the idea, much to Iwaizumi’s surprise, and then life went on as it always did, just there now being a third in the relationship. It wasn’t as hard to adjust to this as the male had initially thought it would have been. In fact, things did seem to settle between the couple, the tension slowly easing away. Maybe his mother was on the right track, after all.

However, there was only one issue left; and that was introducing her to you. Iwaizumi couldn’t say exactly why he found the idea of telling you so hard to handle. Was it because you would judge him for now being in a poly relationship? No, it couldn’t be that, he knew you wouldn’t say or even think anything like that. He couldn’t put his finger on just what was holding him back from telling you, but something in the thought of telling you stopped him, making him feel unsettled.

However, he couldn’t think about this for very long because he looked up as he heard the cafe door jingle, watching walk in and start looking for your close friends. Out of reaction, Iwaizumi grabbed both his lovers’ hands, squeezing them slightly, taking a moment before he called out your name to grab your attention.

As you began your walk over to the table, you couldn’t help but feel confused. There was a third person with them today, which, in truth, has rarely ever happened anytime you’ve met with the two of your friends. “Who’s this?” you asked as you sat down across from them. Looking more closely at the group now, you did in fact notice something strange. They were sitting awfully close to one another, and while Oikawa and the girl seemed to be just fine, Iwaizumi appeared to be nervous, very nervous. After a long time of neither Iwaizumi or the girl speaking, you turned your attention to Oikawa and quirked your eyebrow upwards in a silent question. “We were having some problems in our relationship and we realized that maybe we needed another party. Iwa-chan’s mom found her,” Oikawa answered rather bluntly, causing Iwaizumi to lightly kick the brunette in the shin, mumbling something about him not having to be so blunt.

Your eyes widened in dismay, right away beginning to feel your heart race while you processed the situation. Just as soon, however, you calmed yourself down and took a deep breath. You looked over to the girl, putting on a smile, “And what’s your name?”

“Nakamura Himari. And yours?”

As you gave her your name, you reached your hand out to shake hers, smiling friendly, “Nice to meet you.”

Though you were smiling, you could feel your throat dry and your heart’s pace pick up even further. Abruptly, you excused yourself to the bathroom, again with that artificial grin of yours. Only after your closed the stall door behind you did your smile finally fade as you slouched against the door, exhaling slowly. ‘Even when they’re searching for someone else, it still couldn’t have been me, huh,’ you thought, bitterness lacing itself in these words. You felt yourself calm down as you purposely slowed your breathing, trying to steady the rapid beating in your chest and the knots forming in your stomach. You were relaxed now, thankfully. However, along with this calmness came a heavier heartache than before as you fully thought over just what was happening. ‘No, I guess it never could have been me.’

Weeks went by and you saw this new girl much more frequently. And surprisingly, and a little unfortunately, she’d grown on you. As you got to know Nakamura further, you came to realize she wasn’t half bad. Well, you didn’t really ever doubt that she was in the first place. She eventually became what you would actually call a friend, one that you could say that might have hung out more often than even Iwaizumi and Oikawa themselves. You two being friends didn’t ease the secret uncomfort that hid inside you every time you saw her, though. Every time you saw her talking with the two men, you always felt twinges of regret, and a little bit of envy. You’d always hoped that it would be you in her shoes, afterall.

However, if there was one thing above all about this new friend that bugged you, it would have to be that she was too damn perceptive.

The park had become the two of yours’ usual ‘hang out spot’. And today, like most, you were meeting up with Nakamura. Interrupting your thoughts, she sat right next to you on the bench, not even greeting you with a hello before she spoke, “I called you here because I wanted to talk to you about something. Something that you might not want to really talk about.” To this, your eyebrows raised upwards as you looked at her in question. However, that confusion seemed to clear after she spoke once more, “It’s about Oikawa and Iwaizumi.”

‘Oh.’

“Well, what is it?” you spoke, your voice faintly shaking, giving a nervous laugh in an attempt to ease your friend’s seriousness. Right away noticing your unsteadiness, she clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval. “I think you know what it is,” she started and adjusted her position to be seated closer to you, “You think I haven’t noticed?” You looked away from her face by turning your head to stare out at the children playing in the playground while you suddenly and rather honestly commented, “You and I both know I’m not going to openly admit it myself, so you might as well get to the punchline.”

“Fine,” she huffed, huffing lightly at your stubbornness before she lightened up once more and finally said, “You’re in love with them.”

For a while, all you could do was return her observation with silence, your appearance seeming calm but your heart tugging violently. Eventually, you gave a nod, so small that you wouldn’t have been shocked if she didn’t even see it. It was always hard to admit things like these. You didn’t want to face the reality of it all; You were in love with a couple that seemed to be simply out of your reach. It hurt to acknowledge something like this, let alone to their fiance, of all people. “Yeah,” you said, no louder than a whisper while you casted your eyes downwards, pursing your lips. Very suddenly, you gave a small, soft laugh. There was no humor in this situation, none at all, just you trying once more to hide away from your grief behind these artificial acts of amusement, “There’s nothing you don’t notice, is there?” The girl decided to ignore your comment because she pushed on, “Why didn’t you say something? You had so much time.”

“I was scared, and I still am. Plus, that’s in the past now. Your wedding’s in, what, a week? There’s nothing I can do about it at this point, so I guess I’ll just have to go on living with it, as I always have,” you still hadn’t lifted your eyes to meet hers, you couldn’t find the strength to as you tried to just focus on pushing down the tears that were fighting so hard to flow out of your eyes. You felt a hand rest on your back, rubbing up and down along the now tense muscles. And with that, the wall you’ve spent time building then shattered, causing the tears to flow as freely as they wanted to. You hunched over further, your entire body shaking as you cried. There was no point in controlling yourself or hiding your feelings anymore, it was out in the open and you no longer had anywhere to hide from it as you always had. Without realizing it, you shifted your position to where you were now leaning onto Nakamura, her hand going through your hair calmingly. Several moments passed and tears could no longer leave your eyes, but you continued to quietly sob out, your face hidden in her shoulder. You knew this was probably the last person you should have been doing this with, but you couldn’t care anymore. She was willing to be there for you, and you were going to take any consolation you could get.

You couldn’t tell how long it took you to calm down, but eventually, you did. Finally, you sat upwards to look Nakamura in the face, wiping away the evidence of your previous bawling. “I have to ask you something,” you said, to which she just nodded.

“Do you love them?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really. I’m just doing what my mom told me to do,” these words didn’t surprise either of you, yet you gave another small, breathy laugh at the entire situation in general. “This sucks,” you commented miserably, leaning against your friend with your head on her shoulders. Nakamura suddenly sat upwards, looking at you with dramatic exasperation, “You’re telling me? Try being the ultimate third wheel to a marriage.”

You both were laughing together, you still wiping your tears away and she now rolling her eyes. Anyone who knew the situation you two were in would have looked at the two of you as if you were crazy while you now joked and laughed about the entire issue. Maybe it was the effect of all the numbness you’ve tried to hold towards the whole thing. Maybe it was just you going crazy. What exactly it was that caused this, you didn’t know. But you did know that no laughing could cease the ache that lasted and settled itself in your chest everytime you would watch the three of them all together, somehow feeling further away from them than an actual outsider.

“Do they love you?” you asked abruptly, which put an end to Nakamura’s giggling. After a long pause of thought, which you couldn’t help to think was more for dramatic effect than anything else, she answered, “No, I don’t really think so.” Out of mental exhaustion, you threw your head back and leaned against the bench, sighing loudly, “So I guess no one ended up happy in this reality.” Nakamura merely hummed as she leaned back with you, suddenly searching for your hand. She grasped your hand tightly once she found it and mumbled quietly, “No, I guess not. I’m sorry.”

For quite some time, the two of you just sat there, watching the sky and the clouds glide by slowly. Your already closed eyes scrunched in frustration as you mumbled quietly to yourself, “What am I gonna do?” You could feel the energy drain out from you, both physically and mentally. You sat there in silence, now very exhausted, sitting alongside who seemed to be a companion with you in this misfortune.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu!!#imagines #scenario #sfw #iwaoi

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