#take me out to the seaside for some fresh air as i pass onto the next life (mmm blanket) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jessiebanethedragon · 3 years

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White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 9)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Nine: The Night at Sea

The second you attempt to reach behind to untie your corset, your arm spasms. The collision with the hull of the ship has left you shaken and battered and in no position to twist your body to undo the double knotted ties Seil, your handmaiden, would have tied. And your heart aches when you think of her.

You know that you shouldn’t sleep in the dirty clothes and the corset, but with the secure double knots there is no way to undo the ties yourself. And so you pull yourself into the hammock, landing face first, when your back muscles give out, into the netting tied to the wall. With a groan, you don’t even bother trying to move, and you pass out on the ship - having been through the ringer for what feels like a million times in one day.

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“Where is she?” Hunter grumbles when Tech returns to the group, looking up at the stars Hunter was using to calculate their ETA.

“Probably asleep in Echo’s hammock I'd guess.” Tech says plainly, and he watches as his sergeant’s face hardens.

“You need to learn how to follow orders.” He snaps, before going back to the map.

“Sarge,” Tech starts, “you’re displaying worrying symptoms.” He decides on. And under the hat he sees his eye twitch.

The barrage never ended, and the cannons never ceased. How much ammunition either side had left was impossible to guess. This creeping barrage was working. But only just. All they had to do was keep the separatists busy, the regs should be able to manage that at least. And rescue missions were the best kind of mission out there these days…

In the medical bay, Hunter shakes, the wookie child is long gone, and his vod have returned to keep their sergeant company while he heals. They’re angry, and resent him for the return-to-ship order from before. But the carnage that was left of Kashyyyk proved how right he was in securing the safety of Clone Force 99.

“Hunter, your hand.” Tech says looking at the cuts and mangled tissue.

“Kriffing door wouldn’t open.” He explains through drugged eyes. Thinking that the war is over. It has to be over. If not now, it has to be over soon. They can’t continue like this, there can’t be more missions like this. The war has got to be over soon.

Outside, the artillery starts firing again.

Hunter looks at Tech, watching the goggles reflect moonlight, and realises something that, in the chaos of the day, went unnoticed.

“Did Wrecker even lock the cell door?” He interrogates the shorter man in front of him.

“I don’t know.” Tech answers honestly with a shrug. “But even if he didn’t. You know he made the right call.” Hunter grunts in response.

“She’s a Aaray. A danger to us all” He says.

“We’ve been in worse predicaments.” Tech states. Watching as Hunter walks away from yet another conversation of theirs, and he wonders to himself, how long it will take for his captain to start screaming because of nightmares on this clear, calm, night at sea.

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Everything on your left side hurts. The hit from the ship has battered your skin, muscles, and bones. Sleep evades you because the only thing you can focus on is the pain. And when even laying down becomes too much, Gonk moves herself out of where she was curled on your back as you clumsy step out of the hammock, and begin to tread outside.

The three boys are asleep, and part of you chides yourself for being vulnerable in front of them. They could have thrown you in the birg - or worse. But a bigger part of yourself says that you can trust them. Probably more so than you’ve trusted anyone in your life. It’s a naive thought - and perhaps it’s built off of never having someone you can trust before, but a part deep inside of you jumps onto and clings to the idea of putting your faith in these men.

Maybe Crosshair was rough around the edges, and from what you can see, his glare stays with him while he sleeps. It makes you smile a little. And Wreckers exposed scars, they scare you, but the eye patch was so typical of the pirate stories you heard as a child, it’s like living in a fairy tale.

Someone clears their voice behind you.

It’s the Captain, or rather Hunter. Now only in his pants, and tunic, that's been bunched around his forearms in his sleep.

“Plotting something else perhaps?” He asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

“N-no,” you say, annoyed at how easily he makes you nervous. “I couldn’t sleep, I wanted fresh air, and they…” You pause, looking back at the crew. “They’re more manageable when they’re asleep.” The captain lets out a puff of air that's not in annoyance, and you take that as a small victory. And he watches when you crane your neck to look at the stars. He knows it’s because you feel awkward, but in another life, he would’ve found your curious eyes endearing.

“Am I missing something?” Crosshair asks, having woken on his own, and deciding to investigate the scuffle outside.

“Didn’t want the Aaray skulking around the ship.” Hunter answers, “nightmares?” he asks his brother, watching him shake his head no, and with that, one tension is lifted from the sergeants shoulders.

“Are you in pain?” Your voice comes out softly, and they both stare at you unabashedly. “I only mean, i just,” You go to explain. “From earlier the side of the…”

“Hull.” Hunter corrects on instinct, before chiding himself for doing so.

“The Hull, when you caught me…” You motion randomly with your hands as if that helps communicate to Crosshair what you mean, and he stares at you looking tired and vaguely annoyed.

“You’re in pain.” He tells you. And you’re a tad taken back because it hadn't shown on his face that he knew what you meant, let alone made the connection as to why you were awake and hence asked if he too, was hurting.

“I’m okay, I just wanted to…” you try to brush it off

“There’s no point in lying.” Crosshair interrupts, watching at Hunter’s features soften when he also takes in your appearance, leaning against the door, tense and radiating anxiety. He wonders if you’ve ever felt pain like this in your life. Living on a velvet cushion of upper class coruscant would call for little more than flimsiplast cuts. He watches you shrug off Crosshair's comment, intent on being the smallest problem you can possibly be. The man that Hunter was before would be reaching out for you, your messy hair, soft features, and innocence that he knows lesser men are itching to take advantage of.

“You should take that off.” Crosshair nods towards your dress and you gape at him.

“Crosshair!” Hunter barks on instinct, and not standing for the disrespect. He sees your face flush and your arms go around your waist protectively.

“Have I missed something?” A forth voice joins them outside of the bunks and Hunter inwardly groans. Now Tech is awake, what he hoped would’ve been a private nightly stroll has turned into some kind of situation report.

“Shockingly the Aaray is being uptight.” Crosshair moves to the opposite side of the doorway you’re leaning on.

“I don’t think it is fundamentally uptight to want to preserve my own modesty.” You say incredulously, and Hunter notes that you resort to your training as a lady when you become nervous. Just like his men resort to being soldiers when faced with problems.

“Crosshair!” Tech exclaims, glaring at his brother - he really needed lessons in things that are appropriate to say, and things that are not.

“I’m only asking you to take the corset off.” Crosshair says smirking, enjoying how flustered everyone is. And Hunter sees something flash in your eyes.

“Do you think you’re funny?” You snap, and the sniper stops smiling. “Is this a game to you? Clearly you have no concept of the ramifications on a woman should she ever do something like that. Or you have no concept of how dresses and corsets work - which wouldn't surprise me given your temperament.”

Hunter catches a small grin on his face, you’re alive tonight and he hates to admit that he likes it. The inference that Crosshair is too unintelligent to understand womens garments or that no women has let him close enough to understand them is both funny and potentially accurate.

“He does have a point.” Tech chimes in.

“Tech!” Hunter shouts, expecting better from him.

“I mean it might be adding pressure to areas already in pain.” He says quickly, his face as red as a zarrabak. And no one is surprised that he’s caught himself up in the conversation.

Behind all of you - Wrecker snores.

“I-I… can’t.” Your voice is small, and you’re looking at the floor, embarrassment pings in everyone's hearts when they realise that this is an important issue to you, and they’re talking about it like you’re not even present.

“We can give you private space if that's what you require.” Tech speaks up. And when you pause you can hear the waves crash in the night.

“Thank you.” You stammer out. This whole ordeal has become very embarrassing and as much as you want to deny the pain and tell the clones it’s nothing, you know both Crosshair and Tech will see right through whatever lie you construct.

“It’s, it’s just that…” You pause again. Maker if you tell them you can’t do it yourself you’re going to look as pathetic as you feel. “I would need assistance with the ties…” You mumble the last part to your bare feet that poke out under your dress. When you have the courage to look up again, all eyes are looking at Tech. The latter of the three simultaneously having decided he was most equipped for the job.

“Have at it, loverboy.” Crosshair jeers at his brother, and now both you and Tech are blushing madly.

“I’m surprised you're not jumping to the occasion.” Tech cracks back at him. And if you weren’t so self conscious in this moment you’d roll your eyes at how much they argue. Hunter remains deathly quiet.

“Unless she wants it cut off as i’m usually-” “Alright! Alright!” Tech cuts him off, and moves towards you while Crosshair snickers.

“Turn ‘round.” Hunter barks, and while you might think he’s telling you, he’s actually giving an order to Crosshair, as the trooper made no move to divert his eyes. And as Tech undoes just enough buttons to start loosening the corset he sees how taught the ties have become and yanks it towards him for leverage.

“Tech!” You squeal and gasp, trying to get away from him and he accidentally constricts you more. Sending pain shooting all over you as your injured body is put under more stress.

Hunter turns around at the sound of pain and sees both of you shaking, he knows you must be beyond embarrassed and Tech even more so. Your moss coloured dress is unbuttoned and the back pushed aside to reveal the cream corset. Hunter sighs, and pushes his brother aside.

You hear an ‘ow’ from Tech as well as what you suspect is Crosshair's hand connecting with the back of his shorter brother's head. As they walk away you shiver as you realize the captain is standing behind you.

“You’re fine.” He says plainly. Nimble fingers working at the knots quickly, you shake in the absurdity of it all, and the feeling of Hunter exhaling into your hair and neck as he works.

“This is so unbecoming.” You mumble to yourself in shame, jerking when you feel the tips of his hair brush against your skin.

“I recall you saying ‘fuck’ earlier.” Hunter scoffs at you, “I think you’re past unbecoming.” silently praising himself when one knot becomes free, whoever tied them must have known what they were doing because it feels more complicated than half the sail ties on the Muraduer. Then again, your activities of the day probably didn't help the situation.

“Captain, you’re basically undressing me.” You tell him, looking over your shoulder just in time to watch him still at your words. The part of his face you can see in this position is covered by the tattoo, but what the moon and stars manage to light up is stunning nevertheless.

“If you’re worried about modesty, I can’t see any more of your skin than I could before.” He reassures you, and you’re beginning to wonder what kind of man he really is. Hunter is so tender at this moment, so gentle. And yet you know what lies underneath.

Technically what he just told you is a lie, he can see the expanse of your back, and parts of your shoulders. But the way your brows creased in concern as you look back at him makes lying worth it as you relax a little bit. Trying to be annoyed at you for causing him grief, he goes back to the knots.

You gasp and clutch your chest as you feel him loosening the string as the last knot comes free. And you see the shock in Hunter's face when you whip around so he barely catches a glimpse of the slip that sits underneath the corset.

Maker, he thinks to himself, you’re so disheveled and scared by a simple act. He grits his teeth at the thought of how Nython would treat you, someone like you needed soft and gentle touches, words of affirmation. Hunter’s grinding his teeth together as he realizes the pride Nython would have in hurting someone as defenceless as yourself.

But then he thinks about how you held your own against his own crew today. And the captain of the Havoc Marauder thinks you’re not as defenceless as you look.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @vergol @Lackofhonor

#tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb sergeant hunter #sergreant hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch series #sergeant hunter #hunter x reader #hunter clone #hunter x you #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #jessiebanethedragon #white sands warm the cold sea

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2jaeh · 3 years

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Surf Shack | Johnny Suh

Genre : angst; some mature themes

A long awaited beach vacation that unexpectedly lead you to a local surf shop owner who helps you out of your toxic relationship.

Surf Shop owner! Johnny ; cheating ? ; toxic ex bf

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“I don’t have to come on this trip if you don’t want me to y/n” your boyfriend rolled his eyes as he shoved the last suitcase into the back of his car.

You sucked in your breath and jumped into the passenger seat. You closed your eyes and imagined your feet against the warm white sand, the smell of the salty ocean tickling your nose and the seagulls flapping their wings to signal the upcoming sunset.

He was not going to ruin this for you.

You had planned this seaside trip for a month. You were swamped with work during the first vacation period where your family met up at your old hometown and sadly missed out on a nostalgic weekend away.

But not this time.

This time you managed to book the perfect Airbnb and your family were all available this time of the year and nobody, not even he could spoil this weekend.

“I don’t even get why you’re mad ? All I said was I’d prefer to catch up on the company stocks than frolick in the ocean....it was a joke y/n”

“Then why did you bring your paperwork ?” You muttered and looked out of the window as the car moved quickly out of the bustling city and onto the highway.

You heard him chuckle but didn’t bother to look in his direction. Instead you kept your eyes focused on the cars that passed by.

“Look I didn’t want to bring my work with but I had to” he said in a dead tone “This whole trip...I’m only going because your dad hates me enough...I’ll never hear the end of this if I stayed behind.”

His words were cold and you felt a lump in your throat. You couldn’t understand how at one point he was the reason for your happiness. Wonhyuk was not the same person he was when you two had first dated. He was caring and gentle. He would hate to see you cry and did everything he could to see that smile stretch across your face.

But now, two years later he couldn’t care less about how his words affected you. He had gotten promoted and his career and status made him into the pretentious bastard you see today.

He would flirt with women in front of you, knowing you wouldn’t say anything about it. He would came home at weird parts of the night and you would smell a foreign cologne grace his dress shirts but you stayed silent.

Why ?

Love. You think.

There was obviously a reason you two fell in love and that’s all you were clinging to. Like he mentioned, your dad couldn’t stand him. Your family came from this seaside town while his family came from the upperclass part of the city. He hated small talk or watching sunsets in silence. He liked to talk business he liked to talk about his achievements.

“Atleast pretend like we’re not arguing again for my dads sake ?” You sighed as he pulled into the driveway of the Airbnb lodge and switched off the engine.

“Fine” he pressed his lips together as his eyes met yours and proceeded to offload the car.

You exhaled deeply and faked a smile as you climbed the stairs to the lodge.

“Sunshine!” You heard your nickname bellow from inside the house and your dad gleam at your presence.

“Dad !” You chuckled and jumped into his arms.

“We thought you weren’t going to make it” your aunt teased from the kitchen as she tended to her kids.

“The traffic was awful but we’re here!” Wonhyuk forced a smile as he came to greet your father.

“Ah Wonhyuk I see you’re working on our vacation ?” Your father chuckled. He smiled but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with your boyfriends choices.

“I just brought a bit of stuff to seem like I’m busy” Wonhyuk shrugged with a grin “don’t worry sir I won’t be stuck in the office.”

Your father simply nodded and returned back to your uncle on the balcony facing the ocean.

“Shit my rash guard just tore!!” You heard someone yell from one of the rooms. It definitely sounded like your favourite cousin.

“Jeno ?” You peeped into the room to find your cousin holding up his swimming gear with a fresh tear around the thigh area.

“Y/n! You’re here! Good! Can you come with me to the surf shack down on the promenade??” He asked desperately.

“Is it urgent ? You aren’t planning to surf already are you ?”

“The waves are perfect right now so yes it IS an emergency” he groaned and pulled you back to the foyer.

“Hey I’m going with Jeno to the promenade for a new rash guard are you coming with ?” You quietly asked Wonhyuk who replied with a shrug and followed the both of you out.

Jeno spoke the entire way, catching you up on what was going on in university to finally moving out of his parents place. You felt Wonhyuk keep a slight distance from the two of you, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“This is the place!” Jeno squealed and ran into the surfshack that dawned a cute straw roof.

You stepped inside greeted by the cool air from the ceiling fan and began browsing the miscellaneous items as Jeno went upstairs to view the swimwear.

Wonhyuk joined you inside the store but lingered around the entrance, pulling out his smartphone and looked seemingly bored.

“Uh..those are half price” you heard a deep voice but couldn’t find the person who matched it.

You finally felt a presence behind you and their shadow casted over your entire body which unconsciously made you swallow hard.

“I-I’m just looking thank you” you mumbled and felt the person move past you and back to the counter in the front of the store.

You let your eyes slowly gaze over to the counter to find a tall, well built brown haired boy in a Hawaiian shirt take his seat at the cash register. His dark eyes moved from the screen in front of him to yours. He studied your face, your movements, unsure of what you were doing in his shop.

“H-how much is this ?” You said abruptly mentally cursing yourself for even speaking up.

The boy’s pouty lips curled into a smile and stood up to get a better look at the product you were holding.

You watched as his barely buttoned shirt revealed a bit of his toned chest as he moved. You had never looked at another man like this let alone have your heart race like a school girl crush.

All while your boyfriend was in the same room.

“That’s $7 but I’ll let you take it for 5”

His accent and the way he lazily spoke made you feel butterflies and you had no idea why. Was this your subconscious finding a way to replace Wonhyuk because you two were currently in a debacle ?

“Hey babe what do you think of this necklace ?” You asked, finally snapping out of your daydream and turning to Wonhyuk.

“Why do you also choose such tacky jewelry y/n ? Come on the stuff I can get you in the city are 10times more classy than that” his words felt like a dagger.

You felt embarrassed. You obviously did not know the man behind the counter but you still felt embarrassed that he had to witness that.

Before you could reply Wonhyuk’s phone rang and he quickly received it and marched outside.

You felt your breaths become heavy, much like those nights when Wonhyuk would come home late smelling like another woman. You prayed that the tears won’t fall until you felt a soft but firm hand on your shoulder.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t have any taste this is actually a very unique item, you have a good eye” the handsome counter boy smiled and lifted the necklace from your hand.

You blushed slightly still embarrassed from the scenario that unfolded.

“He’s just...got a lot going on with work he doesn’t mean that” you lied. You knew he meant what he said and you knew he was trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Damn it’s really true. All the pretty girls really do have the douchiest boyfriends”

His grin got wider as you chuckled at his words.

“I actually really like it” you cleared your throat and pointed at the necklace in his hand

“How much is it again ?”

“Free off charge” He smiled and ripped off the tag, stepping behind you to place the necklace on you.

“Are you sure ? I can pay for it” you bit down on your lip as his soft fingers moved your hair out of the way and fastened the necklace on, letting his touch linger for a bit.

“It’s really okay” he reassured you and walked back to his counter. His eyes narrowed as he caught your so called boyfriend talking to a woman just outside the store. Something in him wanted to intervene and punch that bastard in the face for betraying you like this but he held back.

He turned back to you and noticed you had seen the scene outside but quickly looked away pretending like it wasn’t happening.

“My names Johnny, what’s your name ?” He quickly spoke up noticing your eyes becoming hazy.

“Uh...my name is y/n..”

“You from around here y/n ?”

“No but my dad lives about 10 minutes away though, this is kinda my hometown” you replied keeping your eyes on the floor and fighting the urge to cry.

You looked up at the second floor and noticed Jeno was ready to check out which meant it was time to snap back to the fake happiness.

“Y/n....” Johnny whispered “come see me later.”

He held your hand but you felt him place a piece of paper in your palm before greeting Jeno and ringing his order up.

Wonhyuk finally entered the store and you quickly stuffed the note in your pocket and walked out with Jeno completely ignoring Wonhyuks low chuckle after glancing at your new necklace.

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The sun began to set and the red and orange tint filled the lounge area as everyone began cleaning up after supper and heading off to their respective bedrooms to chill out and unpack.

Wonhyuk went straight to the shower which gave you a chance to finally read the note from Johnny.

‘10pm, lifeguard hut - swimwear’

Was he really expecting you to sneak out behind your boyfriends back to meet him ?

This was stupid. This was supposed to be a stress free vacation.

Just as you were about to make your decision you noticed a message pop up on Wonhyuks phone from an unknown number.

‘What time are we meeting tomorrow haha don’t make your gf too anxious now I hate being a homewrecker xo’

That familiar feeling you always had back home came flooding back. Was it someone from work ? Was is the woman he was talking to today ?

You glanced over at Johnnys note and quickly changed into your swimwear, throwing your hoodie and trackpants over and left Wonhyuk a note.

‘Visiting Aerie, she’s going through a rough spot might stay over don’t wait up’

Aerie was a friend Wonhyuk knew of that was in the area and sleeping over at her place was not something out of the ordinary especially when you visited the small town.

You decided to take a quick stroll through the night market and get a sweet treat while you killed time. The loneliness was somewhat therapeutic and the sounds of the night market were nostalgic of your childhood.

You loved every minute of it and the best of part was Wonhyuk wasn’t around to ruin the atmosphere.

You checked your phone and it was already 9:50pm so you decided to head over to the lifeguard hut. The area was quite deserted except for two couples cuddling on the beach under the dark night sky.

Slipping off your shoes you jumped into the white sand, loving the cool feeling in between your toes and made your way over to the hut.

A tall figure was posted up against the wooden frame and you noticed the bright yellow Hawaiian shirt that welcomed you earlier in your day.

“You actually showed up” his voice was velvety making the butterflies from earlier occupy your stomach once again.

“I dont usually do this...” you spoke, finally approaching his figure watching as the dim light from the hut hit his features perfectly.

“Oh so why did you ?” He smirked playfully.

You shrugged and gazed upon the dark waves hitting against the shore.

“I need a distraction”

“Yikes” Johnny winced and clutched his chest “kinda hurts I’m just a distraction but I’m glad you’re here nonetheless.”

You giggled and shook your head at his goofiness as the two of you headed to the deck of the hut.

“Are you planning a night swim ? It looks quite dangerous out there” you shivered as the dark sea made you slightly uncomfortable.

��We are going to the tidal pools! Much safer and less chance of a jellyfish sting” he winked and grabbed your hand lacing his fingers with yours.

It felt so natural being with him yet you only knew him for a very short amount of time. He took away any anxiety that built up during the day and chucked it away with ease. Being with him even in these short hours gave you a sense of freedom you had been craving deeply.

“Watch out it’s a bit slippery here” Johnny warned as he took care of you every step of the way.

“Are we even allowed to be here ?” You asked nervously as you saw it was now only the two of you.

“I come out here very often trust me it’s safe and nobody really cares unless you’re causing some sort of Ruccus” he grinned his eyes stretching along with his smile and you felt your face heat up.

You finally reached the tiny tidal pool and Johnny immediately unbottoned his shirt and jumped into the pool without any thought.

He finally surfaced and his brown locks stuck to his forehead as he gestured for you to join him.

You were a bit nervous getting down to your swimwear in front of a complete stranger. You have never thought of being with someone else or being attracted to someone else since your relationship with Wonhyuk began.

Johnny placed his hand over his eyes, letting you change comfortably without feeling embarrassed which he couldn’t understand why.

You were beautiful.

He had never felt this type of immediate attraction to someone before. He wanted you to feel like yourself which he noticed was not the case around that bastard.

You finally shimmied out of your tracksuit and submerged yourself slowly into the water, sucking in a deep breath at the cold sensation.

“It’s nice isn’t it ?” Johnny murmured as your eyes were lost in the stars above the two of you.

You felt him move closer, his warmth approaching as your eyes fixated on the constellations that formed in the night skies.

“I’ve never felt this calm in such a long time” you sighed and brought your eyes back to meet his.

“I can tell” Johnny caressed the pendant of the necklace he had given you earlier on.

“Why is it so fuckin hard to leave and move on” you groaned, throwing your head back “why am I stuck with someone who hates me, who gets to do whatever he wants and I have to deal with it.”

Johnny brought his hands to your face and made you meet his gaze again. His eyes were filled with concern and his smiled faded as he saw the pain in your eyes.

“It’s hard seeing the person you once loved turn into someone you hate but hey that’s life y/n nobody is perfect and you sure as hell need to keep searching for the right person for you. A consistent one” Johnny reassured you as he brought your trembling frame into a hug.

“I know I’m just some random guy you just met but I immediately knew you were being cheated out of a good relationship with an asshole who doesn’t deserve your patience and love.”

You couldn’t help but sob at his words. You knew you couldn’t take much more of the toxic relationship you were accustomed to and you did deserve better.

“J-Johnny...can you kiss me ?” You whispered looking up into his brown eyes and then letting your gaze fall onto his lips.

Johnny responded by pulling you close enough for you to wrap your legs around his toned back and push yourself up to meet his face.

He made the first contact by bending down to meet your lips and sighed into the soft peck. He pulled away slightly until you gave him permission to continue and the second kiss was much stronger than the first.

Johnny wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as he followed your lead in the kiss, only breaking to catch his breath and met your lips once again.

His lips were incredibly soft and he playfully nibbled on your lower lip each time you pulled away, eager to feel you against him once again. His lips eventually moved to your jaw, followed by soft kisses down to your neck and back up to your now swollen lips.

The two of you stayed just like that. In each other’s arms which felt like the best place to be, the right place to be.

In this moment.

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios #johnny seo #Johnny angst #nct johnny #johnny scenarios #seo youngho #nct angst #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop au #kpop scenarios

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rymndsmth · 3 years

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querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy!

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling.

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive.

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend.

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about.

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed.

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung and his girlfriend).

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller.

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores.

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place.

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion.

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned.

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea.

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot.

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing.

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition.

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later.

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood.

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived.

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history.

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide.

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen.

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter.

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons.

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag.

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush.

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it.

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest.

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all.

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued.

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though.

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips.

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush.

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her?

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him.

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors.

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table.

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you.

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down.

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished.

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his.

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow.

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did.

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin.

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers.

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes.

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk*#jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Round Them Up. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: kidnapping, canon typical violence, and some degrading language. word count: 3.4k.

A simple philosophy of budding romance is to keep date nights special.

You’ve been told this for a long time, that the intimate experience between partners is always meant to be cherished. That with time, among other things, feelings start to change, or fade away all together. It’s a frightening aspect that you used to concern yourself with, the possibility of losing the spark that ignited passion within you in the first place. If these months dating Giorno Giovanna have taught you anything, it’s that these doubts were wrongfully planted. While he’s a busy man, he’s always gone above and beyond for your sake. Fancy dinners at the finest of establishments, picnics on the best private beaches of Italy, and even occasional trips to Milan or Rome. It isn’t the luxury that draws you to him like a moth to flame, but rather the enigma of a personality he brings. Every interaction with Giorno is imprinted on your mind.

Charismatic, thoughtful, blessed with quick wit… your long list of admirations for him goes on. Humming lightly to yourself, there's an extra pep in your step as you take on the relatively mundane task of shopping. Shopping for clothes is usually one of your least favorite activities. Having to go in and out of dressing rooms, trying on multiple sizes of clothes just to find the one you need is out of stock, or the cashier pestering you into signing up for a credit card. The regular reservations that come with purchasing new clothes for your wardrobe are thrown out, as you’re too preoccupied looking forward to tonight. Giorno’s compliments of your person always feel so sincere, like every word has been designed only for you to hear.

Tonight will be no different, an event marked on your calendar for the last month.

A romantic, seaside dinner. For the special occasion, you’re wanting to look the part. Feeling over the fabric underneath your fingertips, you inspect every item on the rack with potent interest. Keeping in mind the most flattering cuts for your body type, and the colors that complement your hair and complexion, multiple possible outfits are piled up one after the other. It’s difficult to fathom that you’ve already been in this store for a little over an hour, still undecided. Store clerks have come and gone, most trying a little too hard to keep you pleased. Finding their hovering around your person stifling, you managed to make your way around the store in hopes of avoiding further confrontation. It doesn’t strike you as strange how you haven’t seen anyone around lately, really. It’s not that busy a time of day, you believe.

“This should just about do it.”

Hoisting up the tentatively picked selection, you make your way towards the back to try them on. When making your way over, you hear your phone buzzing, and look down to see who it is. There’s no fighting the smile that blossoms on your lips at the sight of Giorno’s name popping up on your screen, your phone background a picture of the two of you baking together. There’s flour smeared over his cheek, a result of your doing. Calling back fondly on the memory, your heart leaps in your chest at the chance to talk to him, if even for a brief moment. Sliding to unlock your phone, while balancing your clothes in the other arm, you see he’s asking about your day.

A heavy set of footsteps saunter towards you, like a foreboding omen.

“You must be real happy talking to whoever that is, huh?” A gruff voice catches your attention, and you look up to see an older looking man. He’s of intimidating stature, having broad shoulders, towering over you by at least a foot, accented with a navy suit. By his side are two men in a similar get up, all glowering down at you as if you were a speck of dust. You look around to see if it’s really you he’s speaking to, a spine chilling sensation trickling down your spine. There’s not a single soul in the store, other than the four of you. Not even the cashiers are at their station, the employees that were once buzzing about having vanished in thin air.

There’s some malicious forces at play here. You need to get out of this, as soon as you can.

Gulping, you subconsciously take a step back, pressing your phone to your chest. “Uh, I’m sorry… but can I help you…?”

You cringe at how your voice wanes, not wanting to showcase your helplessness if you could help it. At your further prying, no information is offered. Time is set to a standstill, every passing second feeling more sluggish than the last. The main figure of the group regards you with little warmth, grabbing a picture from his breast pocket. He looks from the object in his hands to you, scrutinizing every detail. Never have you felt so small, so powerless. Whatever is going on here is sending alarms off in your head, a nasty premonition of things to come churning your stomach violently.

“Now, listen to me real carefully. I don’t fancy the thought of messing up a pretty face like yours,” he opens the inside of his jacket, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a handgun. You almost faint at the not so subtle message. “Follow me without any fuss, and you have my word no harm will come to you.”

Your eyes dart around, searching for help that you’ll never find. Nausea and dizziness are cumbersome, rolling over you like crushing waves. You don’t know what to expect, all you can assume is that this won’t end well. Not trusting your tongue to form the words necessary to prevent the situation from getting worse, you nod your head once. The skin underneath his eyes tighten in mirth, pleased with your subservience, waving off the men behind him. He steps over, gesturing for you to join him by his side. Heart thrown into a frenzy against your ribcage, you’re amazed by how a simple task such as walking grows borderline impossible. Your phone is taken from you in the process, the chance of being tracked through that method now lost. He said that if you came along easily, you won’t be harmed, but why should you believe him? There has to be some way out of this.

The intermingling of speech between the group surrounding you gives the opportunity to look around, having spotted a series of hallways that are fire exits. Your main objective would be avoiding any possible gunfire, the cover these hallways bring the best and possibly only opportunity at an escape. You hold your breath, worried that any change in your breathing might be an indication of your hastily put together plan. With all your strength, you pivot on your heel, fully intending to run to cover. You make it a few paces, a sharp pain in your wrist preventing you from making it any further. A pained noise leaves you at the sudden jolt of pain, the joint being twisted painfully. Too taken with the ringing of your ears to notice their reprimanding words, you’re tugged along roughly. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, dark bruises forming alongside the rapidly swelling skin. To make matters worse, the vice-like grip remains, since they no longer trust you not to make an escape attempt.

Where the stranger walks, you follow in admitted defeat, wanting to alleviate the pain of your wrist. He leads you out the back of the store, many men in similar outfits standing against walls, or slithering in the background. A black car with tinted windows is your final destination. It’s pulled against the curb, the unknown man opening the door for you both to enter. Your nose crinkles at the aroma in the car, a combination of heavy cologne and cigarette smoke. Other cars follow in a single line behind you, the engine roaring to life. It makes you jump, your nerves frayed. There’s too much on your mind to pin down a single question, the tenderness of your fresh injury not helping in that regard. Having a plan to grasp onto, even if it’s a fallible, would be preferable to this. For now, you will yourself through the anxiety that plagues you to search for a solution.

Once the car has taken off, he looks over to you, frowning at your limp hand. “You look scared outta your wits, little miss. Let’s see… that means you must really know nothing.”

Now that you’re seated, the time to gather scraps of information has presented itself. This man isn’t a fellow Neapolitan, holding an accent reminiscent of northern Italy. From the few orders exchanged to what you presume to be his underlings, the dialect could possibly be Tuscan. What would people from there ever possibly want with you? It’s a prayer that may never reach the ears of god, but you pray they’re not taking you somewhere that far away. The best case scenario would be somehow escaping when the car is moving before it reaches the highway, but the car door is locked. Is smashing the window possible? It looks thick, likely bullet proof. There has to be a better opening. Your last escape attempt left much to be desired, but it was a knee jerk reaction. At least they didn’t open fire on you, but would you be so lucky for the next try?

Returning your attention back to the stranger, you immediately regret it. He’s wiping dried crimson off his hands with a handkerchief, staining the cloth. The sight answers the question from before, now certain that bloodshed isn’t one of the cards off the table. The pungent, metallic scent is undeniably blood, fresh one at that. Bile rises to your throat at the sight, hurriedly looking away as if it’d erase the nightmare that you’ve seen. Adrenaline continues pumping through your body, a momentary reprieve from the pain your wrist injury has brought.

Your wandering eyes must have been too much of a giveaway, the man next to you letting out a humorless laugh. “This? I have to admit, Don Giovanna’s men aren’t easy to rid of. I was expecting more of a security detail around his prized passera. Though, seeing as you’ve been kept in the dark, keeping too many men around you might be suspicious.”

There’s a certain bloodlust in the man’s gaze when he speaks Giorno’s surname, that chills your soul. The facades of a polite gentleman fade away, replaced by the spitting image of a mobster. His semantics in referring to you leave much to be desired, though the misogynistic language is the least of your concerns. Holding onto the lackluster set of information at your disposal, you take a wild stab in the dark at what could be happening here. While you’ve never intermingled with the mob, it’s not an uncommon tactic of obtaining wealth. Fleeting as it may be, some people go into crushing debts, having made deals with the devil.

Sitting up straight and setting your lips into a straight line, you project a more composed version of yourself. You don’t want to give away the depths of your fear. “I’m not sure what it is you want with Giorno… but if it’s a money related debt, please let me help with it. I don’t want him to be in trouble.”

The mobster takes a second to register your unprecedented words, eyes widening. Does that mean you figured out what the motivation here is? This assumption is thrown out the window as he bellows over, incapable of masking his amusement.

Cheeks flushing with indignation at how he sputters out a condescending laugh, you want nothing more than to assert yourself. If not for the possible repercussions for doing so, you’d have done it long ago. “Unless you’ve got hundreds of billions of lire in that purse of yours, that won’t work, I wouldn’t count on it. His no drug policy has cost us more than you could imagine.”

The jargon in use here erases all doubts from your mind. There’s no denying the fact that this is somehow related to gangs, Giorno, or both. You’ve never meddled in your partner’s affairs. Never so much as blinking at an eye at the smooth explanations for his coming into wealth, not seeing the point in prying beyond the surface. The usage of Don had caught your attention earlier, though that can sometimes apply to wealthy or powerful men in general. A lump forms in your throat as you think more on the subject, arriving at the conclusion Giorno is involved in more than you ever anticipated.

---

“Are you sure about clearing the schedule for tonight?” Mista inquires, giving the pistol in his hand another glance over. He inspects every groove, having already familiarized himself with all aspects of the weapon. Checking to make sure it can work at all times is a necessity, seeing as he’ll never know when the time will come to use it. Giorno leans back into his chair, not paying immediate heed to the gunslinger’s concerns. He steals a glance down at his phone, still expecting to have seen a message from you by now. At the further absence of your response, he responds to Mista.

“There’s nothing left to discuss. I’ve made my demands of them very clear.” Giorno fights back the urge to sigh, the weight of dealing with rebellious groups sadly nothing new. As long as their avenues of making money involve the drug trade, they won’t ever bend permanently, all of the promises naught but lip service. Not even long lasting Passione allies prove to be fully complacent. That was all before him, anyways, when they could operate without accountability.

“We have enough evidence of their conduct. Niceties are no longer necessary.”

Mista raises an eyebrow, catching onto the hidden intent laced within Giorno’s words. “So it’s come to that, huh? You’d think the stories of what happened to the former narcotics team would be enough to keep them at bay. It was brutal, right Fugo?”

The aforementioned male fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning against the hardwood of Giorno’s desk. While his role is more of an advisor to Giorno than Mista’s, he can’t help but express a similar sentiment. There likely isn’t a better option, having discussed and been promised dozens of times that the mafioso from Tuscany would cease their drug trades. Each time has proved a fruitless endeavor, the Don from the most prominent group in that area going through great lengths to hide his tracks of the grimy dealings.

“But you know, Giorno… Enzo’s men won’t be taking kindly to being cut off,” Fugo pipes up, taking the opportunity to voice his own share of concern. “You’ve been giving them the cold shoulder for a little over a week. It’s only a matter of time until he figures out what’s going on, or worse… does something about it.”

Giorno gives a look of recognition, having already thought of this. It’s undesirable to think about, but seeing how the day’s heading, he might have to cancel his plans for you tonight. “I’m expecting it, yes. It’s a shame how stubborn he’s been on the matter.”

Fugo’s lips part, only to be interrupted by the door to Giorno’s study suddenly being flung open. Scrunching up his eyebrows at the impudent entrance of one of Passione’s underlings, all words of admonishment disappear when spotting what’s unmistakably your phone in the guard’s hands. The room goes dead silent, Giorno standing from his spot and walking over to inspect your belonging. In the world they live in, this is a threat, most likely relating to the very topic the three of them were just discussing.

“When did this show up?” Giorno takes your phone into the palm of his hand, Mista and Fugo leaving their own spots to do the same. The guard is flushed, out of breath, most likely having run from the entrance of the villa to this spot. Even under the immense pressure this brings, Giorno’s tone remains an even timbre. Fugo spots the slightest of shakes in his fingers, eyes moving back to the guard for the sake of Giorno’s privacy. It’s affecting him on some level, but he knows Giorno; and how he deals with stressors like this.

“J-just now, sir,” The guard explains in a frenzy, chest heaving for air. “We lost contact with [First]’s escorts about five minutes ago, I already sent out men to the last known spot she was seen at.”

Giorno’s lips twitch downwards in evident displeasure, lips pursed. This misfortune of human error will be addressed at a later time, when he knows you’re safe. “Why was I not alerted sooner?”

“We thought it might be a technical issue--”

Your phone has already been imbued with life, morphing into a butterfly from the usage of Gold Experience’s ability. Giorno strides past the bewildered guard without care, Fugo and Mista following soon after him. Fugo reaches down into his pocket, procuring a set of car keys, seeing as Giorno’s set on walking towards the garage. For once, neither he or Mista offer any quips to lighten the situation. Their knowledge of your relationship with Giorno is fuzzy at best, morally obscured at worse. Fugo’s turned a blind eye to the private life of his Don, not wanting to dip into the rabbit hole. He’s seen enough to know you’re blissfully unaware of Giorno’s invisible touch in your life.

Mista is the first to try and speak up. “We’ll get her back, Giorno.”

“Of course.” The words are curt, borderline snappy. They make their way to one of his many sports cars, their attention set on the butterflies movements. Fugo notes how it’s heading north, further confirming the suspicion that you’re currently in the hands of the gangster group from Tuscany. Giorno receives a plethora of phone calls in the drive, ranging in information regarding the attack and your possible whereabouts. A group of cars with unmarked license plates were confirmed by some of the workers at the mall, who had been threatened into compliance. They gave rough descriptions that fit the bill of one of Enzo’s Capos. This feels deeply personal, cutting too close for Giorno’s liking.

He had not been expecting such a brazen counterattack, operating with casualties in broad daylight is almost unheard of. A testament to their desperate mindset, if he had to guess. It’s true that they’ve been bleeding dry ever since he’s enforced the zero tolerance drug policy, not that there aren’t other options of securing wealth. The unsavory method is one of the easiest and most lucrative, before he was in charge that is. His mind goes to you, and the possibilities run rampant.

Gold Experience can heal any physical wounds inflicted on you, but the mental scarring… that will be another issue entirely.

Though, he’s certain that they won’t kill you. You’re too valuable a bargaining chip, but there are fates far worse than death. Thinking about it brings emotions to the surface he hasn’t experienced in a long time, flurries of malicious thoughts pointed towards your captors forming. They’ll meet a befitting death -- he’ll make certain of that -- but your well being is of the top priority. Giorno wills himself to remain in control, fighting off the shakiness that threatens to overtake him. The last thing he needs to do right now is allow his carefully crafted composure to slip, it would serve no one.

He catches Fugo sending him the occasional glance, but thinks little of it.

There’s a strong resolve unique to you, Giorno believes. He regrets not having placed tighter security on you, mentally drafting up ways to avoid a situation like this from ever repeating again. It’ll be a much more constrictive way of living, and while it pains him to think of you losing some freedoms, it’s all for the greater good. Having been so caught up in his personal feelings of allowing you the autonomy to do as you please is what led to this misfortune in the first place, a mistake he will not repeat. When you’re back in his sight, completely safe, he’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

You’ll come to understand it.

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dovakhiindrabbles · 5 years

Note

Have you done the Nightcaller Temple quest? Could you do something with Erandur? Not anything romantic since he seems to consider the Dragonborn his child, just something with him and the reader travelling together as friends.

Of course! I love Erandur he always struck me as a grandfatherly type and he’s one of my favorite companions! I think he’s a little underrated so writing this prompt was tons of fun! I just hope that you enjoy it and have a marvelous day dear

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“Is it almost done?” You asked with obvious excitement, practically bouncing as you peered over the counter inside of the Radiant Raiment.

“If you keep asking, I’m going to tear it up right now and charge you double.” Endarie barked from the back with her sharp tongue echoing against the craggy old cobblestone.

You promptly shut your mouth, but you made note of why Taarie was recounted as the ‘nice’ sister between the two.

It only took a few more unbearable minutes of waiting for the Altmer to trudge back into the main hall with the cloth folded neatly in her arms. She was glaring and a scowl was placed firmly upon her face, but that was far from strange. You’d be terrified if she wasn’t glowering.

“While your incessant questions didn’t speed up the process, it’s done.” She grumbled, dropping it into your arms. “I don’t want to see a speck of dirt on it. Ever. I worked hard on that.”

“Of course not! Never! It’ll remain spotless forever!”

“Swear on your shout?”

“I can’t do that-”

“Swear on your shout.”

Was it getting hot in here, or did sweat normally begin to dribble around your forehead when asked to swear upon mildly troubling topics?

It certainly wasn’t scalding.

“I’ll try my best!” You sputtered out with a curt dip of your head before admittedly, rushing out the front door. The hustle and bustle of Solitude hitting you in an instant with the heavy clacking of heeled boots and clanging of heavy armor heard from each and every corner of the hold. Your first few days inside had been a mess of adapting from the quaint traveling but, you’d like to think you’d settled in nicely.

All of which, you could lend your thanks to your dear companion and friend, Erandur.

He waited patiently for you just outside the shop at your insistence, his eyes staring up in awe at the grand oak he stood under and a hum passing through his lips. He seemed almost entranced by the seaside land and fresh air – so different from the bitter cold of Dawnstar where the most excitement one got was from the news of freshly baked sweet rolls.

Solitude, on the other hand, was constantly bursting at the seams with fresh news and gossip – why, the first time you’d found the hold you were greeted with an execution.

Needless to say, the one thing Solitude didn’t know was silence.

“Erandur!” You called out after him and met him with a bounce in your step. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not at all,” He dipped his head curtly and the wrinkles on his weathered face deepened with his smile. “I’ve been enjoying myself, I’m afraid I’ve never had the pleasure to visit Solitude before now. I see how it’s gained its reputation as Skyrim’s capital.”

“Lots to see, isn’t there?” You laughed. “I may have gotten lost my first time around.”

“Really?” He simpered. “If it helps, I think you’ve become quite the navigator since then.”

“The wonders of a map!” You pursed your lips. “So… are you ready for your surprise?”

“I’ve told you, it’s really not necessary. There are far better people deserving of such kindness.”

“Oh, hush with that! I got you a gift because I wanted to. Believe it or not, you’re a very nice person!” You puffed out your cheeks indignantly. “I wish you’d at least entertain the idea.”

Since the first day you’d met him, the Dunmer had always looked upon himself with a sort of disdain that’d be hard to miss. A weight always dragged him down like solid stone were tethered to his arms and despite the warm, inviting aura he carried with him now, you couldn’t help but sense something much darker underneath from the moment you’d met him – a regret, holding the familiar sting of a scar.

Within the Nightcaller Temple, you’d finally learned of his wrongdoings – of his massive mistake that revealed cowardice he might’ve not even known of himself. And you still accepted him.

Because while he hadn’t recognized how he’d changed, how he tried, you had.

“Maybe one day,” Erandur muttered softly. “But I would quite like to see what you have.”

“Okay, okay! Just close your eyes!”

He gave an amused sigh and relented to do as you asked, folding his arms across his chest while he waited. You excitedly undid the folded present and held it out, still keeping it a couple inches above the ground just so it wouldn’t catch any dirt like Endarie asked – or well, demanded.

“Alright, take a look!”

His eyes fluttered open and widened like saucers as he gawked at the gift.

And as the seconds passed, he lit up like a firework.

His features, riddled with age, held the sheer joy of a child as he let out a weary, rickety laugh that reminded you of everything good in this world. It was warm and kind and in a world like Skyrim, one could never find enough of it.

“I thought you could use some new robes!” You exclaimed. “So… what better for the goddess of love’s favorite agent than this?”

The robes were of a pale, delicate red adorned with Mara’s symbol elegantly etched in its center where it’d cover his back. The fabric was soft and one could only imagine how warm it’d keep its wearer in the frozen nights.

It was so, so different from anything else Erandur had known in his life.

And he adored it because of that.

“It’s… It’s beautiful, thank you! You are a truly kind friend…”

You set it in his palms, your shoulders dropping with a soft sigh. “And so are you.”

“You can’t change what you did… and what happened was terrible but… the only thing you – or anyone can do is continue on. You’ve done everything a person can to change for the better – hating yourself won’t make any difference– it’ll just make your life a whole lot more miserable.”

Erandur opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but couldn’t quite figure just what it was he would say anyways. All of his air knotted in his chest to the point to where he could barely figure how to breathe, uttering a single word sounded like an impossible task.

“You’re a good person Erandur, and that takes work. A lot more work than others are willing to put into it, and that’s what makes you so good! You keep trying… always.”

You smiled and wrapped a ginger hand around his arm, squeezing it fondly. “You don’t have to forget what you’ve done… but you do need to forgive yourself for it.”

Erandur wasn’t a man who cried often, he could count on a single hand how many times he’d let his emotions get the best of him.

However, now, he actively had to work to keep his brimming tears from splattering onto his brand-new cloak.

“I… I don’t know if I’m quite ready…” He tightened his grip on his cloth, his chin quivering despite the smile beginning to tug at his lips. “but… I think I’d be willing to try for once.”

A heavy breath escaped him as he forced himself to meet your gaze, equally misty but just as happy.

“However, I’d be awfully appreciative if my friend might stay with me for it all.”

Your answer came as you slammed into him with perhaps a too excited hug, the old elf quick to return the gesture with a hearty laugh that rattled his chest.

“I uh… I take that as a yes…?”

You snorted.

“Utterly and absolutely.”

#Skyrim #Skyrim Fanfic #Skyrim Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Erandur #Erandur Skyrim

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fatrainbowmermaidunicorn · 6 years

Text

Girl Back Home (Jimin x You x Jungkook) // Chapter 1

MASTERLIST

Jeon Jungkook looks up to the clear blue sky as he inhaled the fresh air. Its been quite some time since they were given a long break. He immediately chose to go back home the moment his manager released their schedule. Jungkook misses his family, and his beloved hometown. Living in the big city is amazing, but at some point, he just miss the simplicity of his home town. Jimin who will usually come back home with him decide to stay in the city for a few more weeks, asking Jungkook to proceed with going home first. He didnt know what his hyung is up to, nor does he care. He is finally back home, and that is what matters.

Its nice waking up to the delicious smell of his mother's cooking instead of the normal take out he and the boys will usually have. Its good to know that he can laze around all day doing nothing if he choose to do so, instead of being force to comply to a pack schedule where he sometimes couldnt even find the time to pee. Dont get him wrong, he loves what he do. He loves being an idol. He loves the fact that he can share his love for music, singing and dancing with million others. He loves interacting with fans who keeps on cheering him on. But everyone needs a break sometimes. And being back home is exactly the kind of break that Jungkook needed.

Jungkook decided to take a walk by the seaside today. An advantage of living in a town located by the beach. Its peaceful and quite empty as its not yet tourist season and Jungkook planned to use it to his full advantage by enjoying every second of the sea as much as he can. He can rest assured that he wont be mobbed by fans here since most people from his hometown doesnt know who he is and the other half who does just doesnt care. That is a different feeling that he can only have here in his hometown, and never in the city.

As he sat down by the seaside, letting his bare feet touch the waves that is crashing the white sand, a huge furry golden retriever came running towards him, tounge playfully out, yapping happily and without warning, jumped on him, making him fall back onto the sand. Jungkook laughs as the dog keeps on licking his face and nuzzled his neck as he keeps on rubbing the dog's thick fur.

"Cusco! Dont do that! That is not someone we know!" A voice filled with panic makes Jungkook turn around to see a girl running towards them. The dog immediately jumped off Jungkook and ran towards the girl's direction, nuzzling her legs.

"I am so sorry. He is always too friendly for his own good. Are you okay? I hope he didnt hurt you," she rambled on, eyeing Jungkook up and down, trying to see any evidence of him hurting. Jungkook laughs and shakes his head.

"No. I'm perfectly fine. I dont mind really. Your dog is very cute. I wish I can have one just like him," he smile. The girl seems to relax a little at his friendly greeting.

"Oh... thank you. But I'm still really sorry," she fiddled with her hands, not knowing what to do. "Why didnt you?" Jungkook looks at her, confused. "Have one? A dog I mean,"

"Oh," Jungkook nodded his head, finally understanding her question. "I dont live here anymore. Urm I mean, my family still does and I came back from time to time but I work in the city so I dont really have the space or time for a dog," he explained. The girl nodded.

"Oh. No wonder I havent seen you around before. I walked Cusco by this beach everyday and I know mostly everyone from this area. I thought Cusco just mauled a tourist! That would have been bad!" she laughs. Jungkook smile as he looks at her. This is the kind of girls that he always prefer. The easy going, happy go lucky girls. Not like the ones he met in the city or the other girls in the industry who is always uptight and care too much about the image they hold. Its boring and superficial and Jungkook is sick of it. He wants to meet someone real. Someone who can hold a decent and fun conversation. Someone he can be friends with.

"You walked him on this beach everyday?"

"Its a her actually," she smile and motioned towards her dog who is now happily chasing the waves. "And yes,"

"Ah. No wonder she's attracted to me then. All female does," Jungkook winked and instead of blushing like Jungkook assumed the girl would do, because come on, who wouldnt swoon when Jeon Jungkook winked at them?, she gives a loud laugh.

"You are funny," she smile after her laughter died down. "Oh well, I should go. Sorry to disturb your peaceful day," she bowed and motioned for Cusco to follow her as she starts to walk away. Jungkook immediately hate the idea of letting such a refreshing girl go. After all, she is the first interaction he had outside of his family since he came back a few days ago. Jungkook is usually akward around girls, but there's just something about this girl and her dog that heavily attracts Jungkook to her, making all akwardness disappeared. After all, there is nothing wrong with making new friends, right?

"Wait!" Jungkook called out making her turned around. "Urm, since I dont really have anyone else to hung out with anyway and I live just near this beach, why dont I walk Cusco with you every day?" he suggested, hoping the girl wont find him weird. "I swear I'm not a serial killer or anything. You can even come over to my house and meet my mom. She will tell you that I am a good son, and definitely not a serial killer or a mass murderer," he quickly added when he saw the girl is looking weirdly at him. At his strange and bold explanation, the girl laughs.

"Okay. I would love too. And no, I never thought you are a serial killer. I think Cusco would know if you are one," she giggled. Jungkook smile at her, showing his bunny teeth.

"Great. Now we are officially friends, thanks to Cusco," he looked down at the dog and ruffled its head making her bark happily. "I love her. She is such a happy dog,"

"Well, I made sure she has nothing not to be happy about. Life is full of ups and downs but we shouldnt live in sadness right?" she rubbed Cusco's head lovingly, making Jungkook nod and ponders on her words.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook by the way," Jungkook held out his hand as a greeting, looking to see if there is any sign of recognition of who he is in her face.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Jeon Jungkook," she nodded and smile, not showing any sign of knowing who he is. Without realizing, Jungkook let out a deep breath that he didnt even know he held, anxious to know if she knows him and if she is only being friendly to him because of who he is. Cusco starts to bark around happily, pushing his head on Jungkook's arms, asking for some affection. As Jungkook reached out to rub the dog's head, he knows that this break is going to be the best one yet, he can already tell.

"Well Y/N, would you like to come over to my house and meet my mom? I mean not to ask her if I'm a serial killer, but maybe for tea and dinner? She is a pretty good cook," Y/N laughs again.

"Well, if you insist, then I would love to,"

The rest of the week passed by quickly as Jungkook is having so much fun with Y/N. They always start their day with breakfast that Jungkook's mother had insisted on making, forcing Y/N to come over and eat every morning before they can move on to walk Cusco by the beach. They will run along the beach, barefooted, playing with the water and splashing each other while Cusco will run and bark happily by their side. After lunch time, Y/N will usually sent Cusco back home and take Jungkook out to the places that even he didnt know existed in his hometown.

"That's because you didnt come back often enough!" Y/N said one day when Jungkook claimed he never knew his hometown has so many interesting and beautiful places as they were sitting on a huge rock on a hill by the sea, facing the sunset. They swing their legs happily over the cliff as they enjoy the beautiful sun which is slowly fading, giving way to the dark night sky. Jungkook turned to look at Y/N as she said that and he took in her face.

To most people, she probably just looks like an ordinary girl. Brown eyes and long dark hair with a petite frame. But to Jungkook who had spent almost every day with her for almost a month, Y/N is nothing but ordinary. She is everything but.

"Maybe now I will have a good enough reason to come back home more often," Jungkook whispered so softly, he is sure Y/N didnt hear him as she just turns and smile at him, throwing pebbles into the sea as the wind blows her free hair all over her face.

Jungkook smile and know that this is the best view he could have ever asked for, and its all because of this girl he met back at home.

/////

Jungkook knows everything is just too good to be true when his mother woke him up one day, notifying him that his managers are waiting for him downstairs. With sleepy eyes he walked down the stairs to see two of his managers sitting at the dining table, looking stern.

"Good morning Jungkook. I believe you are having a nice break?" Jungkook rubbed his eyes and stare at the two. Did they come here just to ask about how he's enjoying his day?

"Ye..yeah. You can say that," he answered, short and simple, wishing they will just go straight to the point.

"Oh, we know," one of the manager replied and look at the other. "Do you know what news is currently circulating in Seoul right now Jungkook?"

"No. Not really. I dont really keep myself updated with tabloids when I'm on a break. I tend to keep away from them, you know that," he shakes his head.

"Well, let me enlighten you then," the manager took out a pile of newspaper and tabloid magazines that is folded neatly on his lap.

"BTS' Jungkook secret girlfriend," he placed the paper on the table.

"Jeon Jungkook's hometown sweetheart," he placed another one.

"Jungkook is back home to see his girl!" he threw another one to the pile.

"Sweetest couple alert: Jeon Jungkook is in love with a girl back home?" he stacked another.

"Is Jungkook married to his hometown sweetheart?" Jungkook's eyes widen at that.

"Yeah. The headlines gets more creative from here," the manager said as he placed the rest of the pile on the table, not bothering to read them anymore. "I think you get the idea of what they are saying right?" Jungkook nodded.

"Hyung, I-"

"Save it Jeon Jungkook. You should know better! You know you should always be aware even when you are on a break! All eyes are always on you and your hyungs. You know that!" Jungkook lowered his gaze. He admits its his fault, but how can he not spend time with Y/N?

"What am I supposed to do now?" he ask in a small voice, understanding how much trouble he is in. Jungkook seldom creates a problem, but when he does, he sure gives his manager something to think about. The manager sighed.

"Alright. We have discussed this with the other management team. The way we see it, you only have two choices. Either you stop seeing her altogether and release an official statement to the media that she is just some fan who is obsessed with you and you are just entertaining her," Jungkook eyes widen and shakes his head. There is no way he could do that to Y/N. She dont even know who he is. He is not going to taint her name as a crazy fangirl just to save his own ass. "Or... you can ask her..."

"Pretend to be my girlfriend," Jungkook is currently standing in front of Y/N's house, nervously telling her what happened and what his manager had suggested. Now Y/N is crossing her arms across her chest, feet tapping and is looking at him as if he's grown two heads. "Please?" Jungkook pleaded.

"Wait. Let me get this straight. You are actually an internationally well known popular idol and now some papparazi has taken our photos together and is telling everyone that I am your girlfriend and the only choice you have to save your career is either to stop seeing me altogether and say that I'm a crazy fangirl or I have to pretend to be your girlfriend?" Y/N summarized everything in one breath, leaving Jungkook with mouth slightly opened.

"Wow. That's just... wow. But yeah. That's basically it,"

"Okay you are crazy," Y/N raised her hands. "I knew you couldnt just be some normal stranger lounging on the beach," she sighed. "I knew it..."

"Dont say that," Jungkook lowered his gaze, hurt by Y/N's words. "Being an idol is just my job. I'm still just the Jungkook that you know," Jungkook's voice is laced with sadness.

"Yeah, a job that dictates your life. And apparently mine," she huffed. She stayed silent for a while, contemplating her choices. "So I think you can just go ahead with plan A. Tell everyone I'm just a crazy fan and stop seeing me, okay? Okay goodbye Jeon Jungkook, nice knowing you!" Y/N quickly stepped back into her house and tries to close the door as fast as she could but is stopped by Jungkook.

"No! I wont do that," Jungkook gritted his teeth. "How could you even suggest that? That is not even an option! Doesnt the last month we spent together meant anything to you?" Y/N sighed at Jungkook's sad face. It was never her intention to hurt Jungkook's feelings. He is a great guy but she really dont want to be involved in this. She just wants to go back to her quiet life. Living day in and day out with her dog, drama free, patiently waiting for his return. Y/N immediately pushed all thoughts of him aside and focused back to Jungkook.

"Of course it does Jungkook. Our friendship meant a lot to me.But you dont understand, its hard for me to pretend to be your girlfriend," she lowered her gaze, trying to think of the best way to inform Jungkook of her situation. "I really cant pretend to be your girlfriend, because I'm... I'm ma-"

"Please?" Jungkook cutted her off. "I promise you wont feel anything different than when you were hanging out with me. And its only for a few months. And you get to go to Seoul, for free!" Jungkook tried to plead his case. To be honest, he really wants Y/N to say yes. He really wants her to come to Seoul with him. Being a part of his life there, and not just stayed as the girl he knew back home. It also doesnt help the fact that having Y/N to be his pretend girlfriend excites him a little. Y/N ponders on her options for a while. Jungkook has been a great friend to her, maybe she could help him just this one time.

"You promise it wont be long?"

"No. I promise. Only a few months and we will annouce the break up. I will even let you be the one who breaks up with me and you can tell everyone how much of an asshole boyfriend I am," he grins. Y/N smile back at his teasing.

"Deal,"

/////

"So I heard you went back home and get yourself a little girlfriend?" Taehyung's voice filled the room. Jungkook is currently on speaker wirh the rest of his hyungs, who is all already back in the dorms. Jungkook chuckled as he toss his clothes inside his luggage. Packing is always a hassle, but he cant wait to go back this time.

"Way to go maknae!" Hoseok chimmed in.

"Is she pretty? We didnt read the news yet," Jimin questioned.

"It doesnt matter. We are not dating for real!" Jungkook remind his excited hyungs. "But yeah, she's very pretty. Beautiful in fact. Smart and funny too,"

"Ohhh, sounds like you want to date her for real!" Jin's voice filled the room, together with teasing laughter from the others.

"Shut up hyung!"

"Ohhh, are you blushing?" Taehyung continue to tease.

"I think he does like her for real!" Hoseok squealed. "Did a girl from back home finally managed to make the impenetrable golden maknae fell in love?"

"Okay shut up guys," Jungkook has never felt so grateful for Namjoon's interruption. "When are you coming back Jungkook?"

"Tomorrow. We are taking the evening flight,"

"You are flying together with her right?"

"Yup. We are going to let people see us together at the airport, acting all cute and couply, bound for Seoul and we will announce our relationship officially next week,"

"Okay. Stick to the plan and dont do anything else stupid maknae," Namjoon warned.

"And dont make out in public either!" Taehyung's teasing voice filled the speaker and Jungkook heard a smack and an 'ow hyung' before the line was cut off. He is pretty sure that is the sound of Yoongi smacking Taehyung right across his head. Jungkook shakes his head and laughs. His hyungs are weird and annoying but he misses them. He cant wait to see them tomorrow and of course, to introduce Y/N to them.

He just cant wait.

/////

"Are you nervous? Excited? Scared?" Jungkook asked Y/N as their flight landed at the airport.

"A little bit of everything," she admitted. Her first time in Seoul and she has to be the girlfriend to someone well known. What has her life become? "Why do you seem so excited?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Dont worry. I'll be there with you at every step of the way," Jungkook smile an held her hands. "And I am excited. I'm coming back with my girlfriend, why shouldnt I be?" he winked making Y/N rolled her eyes. "Here, wear this," Jungkook shoved Y/N a pair of sunglasses and a black face mask, which Y/N donned quickly. Jungkook pulled his on and grabbed her hands.

"Ready?" she just nodded. "Lets go,"

The airport was filled to the brim with screaming fans. As hard as they try to keep their schedule a secret, fans will always somehow found out their whereabout. With the help of security, they managed to safely entered the black van that will take them back to the dorm.

"Wow, I really didnt know you were this popular," Y/N peeked through the van's curtain to see the fan girls still screaming, cameras clicking, some are even crying.

"You really live under the rocks Y/N. How can you not heard of us?" Y/N rolled her eyes again and ignore Jungkook's self proclaimed popularity, although she now understands why Jungkook is so cocky sometimes.

"I think I got about 20 death threats in that 20 second walk towards the car alone," she chuckled.

"Dont worry, I'm your boyfriend. I will protect you my love," Jungkook held her hands and placed it in his lap, turning to look and smile at her.

And for the first fime since they met, Y/N blushed.

/////

"Hey hyung, we are here!" Jungkook screamed out once he opened the dorm's door, one hand still tightly holding Y/N's nervous hand.

"Are you sure they will be okay with me?" Y/N eyes flickered around the dorm, anxiously looking to see if the boys are here, feeling extremely nervous. "What if they think I tricked you into this?"

"Dont worry Y/N. They will love you. And they wont think that. They know for a fact that I screwed up and you are helping me. They couldnt be more grateful for that," Jungkook smile at her, trying to ease her nervousness. Their conversation was cut off with the the sounds of footsteps approaching their way.

"Hey Kookie. Welcome home-" Jimin is the first one to come out from his room and stops immediately when he saw Jungkook standing in front of Y/N, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey hyung! This is my girlfriend, Y-"

"Y/N," Jimin finshed the sentence, eyes looking past Jungkook's smiling face and looking straight into the face he will recognize anywhere, at Y/N who is looking back at him with wide surprised eyes.

"Ji...Jimin,"

A/N: The first chapter of a new series. Comments ARE WELCOMED!

#bts #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fiction #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan seonyeondan #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook scenario #bts jimin #park jimin #jimin scenario #kpop #kpop scenario

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metinthehallway · 6 years

Text

2 beaches

You already know it’s sad bitch hours! I wrote this a few weeks ago after seeing this pic of harry. It’s a lil bit of Dunkirk harry and idk how over everyone is of that but here I am loving every bit of it! It’s 3.5k words of mostly dialogue telling a story and it’s a bit flowery. Hope you guys like it!

Elise sits on the splinting wicker chair, pinpricks of flecked white wood scratching along her thighs. She’s come from her present home in the city all the way to her childhood one, 2 hours south into the countryside. The late afternoon is filled with an intense orange, sunlight washes over the fields of wheat before meeting the horizon. The sun stretches as far as it can before it ducks below the earth. With a light grimace and rubbing at her legs, she turns to look at the woman next to her, wearing a near identical pair of eyes only more worn, more misted. Elise’s face instantly melts into one of comfort.

Her grandmother, Sarah, is a familiar presence, having raised Elise for the better part of her life. On this little strip of land containing rolling hills and bushels upon bushels of poison ivy, coupled with a rocky stream winding through the woods and the largest weeping willow you’d ever see, Elise found herself. She found herself throwing her body down the hills with her friends, seeing who could reach the bottom the fastest. The sleepless nights spent itching at her skin, waking up her grandmother to have her rub the special homemade salve she always had onto the agitated hives, gently singing her to sleep. The rocks she collected that were slowly weathered down by the quick moving stream, hurrying on its way to get to the seaside. The weeping willow where she learned to climb, weaving herself in and out of its large body and hiding between the curtains of greenery when life seemed too much to handle.

The day they had to cut it down, Elise cried.

Sarah cried even harder. Elise could hear it that night throughout the house, accompanied by the wind whistling and the rain hitting the roof.

Sarah kept only a piece of wood from the graveyard of branches. A jagged piece, about 6 inches wide, with the initials, “H.S. + S.J.”, lay towards the back of her dresser. It lives next to a book, a book that’s never been moved from its spot for as long as Elise had been there, collected so much dust it’s turned gray. Elise had never asked. The memory of it seemed too painful.

The two have been chatting here and there on the rickety front porch, allowing the sounds of the country side to fill the pauses and smooth out their words. The glass jug next to them clinks with fresh ice as Sarah pours her second glass of lemonade with shaky hands. Elise reminds her of her health, to take it easy on the sugary drinks as her body isn’t the best filter for her sweet tooth anymore. Sarah just scoffs, one that turns into a harsh cough, says, “This body carried 4 children, it can carry another glass of lemonade.”

Elise smiles, although it’s a tight one. All she does is care but her grandmother has always been indifferent about the inevitability of aging, staring into the future with a mask of almost boredom while her body deteriorates. Sarah’s mind, on the other hand, is as sharp as ever.

Gazing up to the empty sky where Elise used to watch strings of willow leaves swing in the breeze, she’s reminded of the carved, rotting wood sitting atop a dark cherry dresser. As the sun sets and streaks of pink and red are thrown across the sky, Elise feels an overwhelming urge to ask about it. She’s getting older and with that, the fear of going to sleep one night and waking up to a world without her grandmother in it.

She asks about the piece of bark from the willow because if not now, she never will.

“Who’s H.S.? I know who S.J. is. That’s you. But who do the other initials stand for?” Sarah pauses and blinks once, shock written on her face and glass of lemonade stuck halfway to her open mouth.

Cicadas move in the tall grass, calling out for another in the suspended air. Elise gauges the reaction as Sarah moves to put the cup down on the porch, shutting her mouth with pursed lips. She’s almost positive she won’t get an answer, until Sarah moves to get up from her cushioned rocking chair. Elise jumps up to help her, thinking that she’s just going to leave the question hanging and turn in for the night. Sarah quickly waves her off, grunting a bit as she hobbles into the house.

A little deflated, Elise sits back down as the sun disappears almost completely. If she unfocuses her eyes, she can see the faint lights of the fireflies nipping about the grass and woods surrounding her.

A few minutes pass and the screen door creaks open, causing Elise to startle and kick her drink, causing it to spill all over the worn wooden planks. She hadn’t expected her grandmother to come back. Swearing lightly, she picks up the glass and raises her head to see Sarah turning on the porch light, an unfamiliar object tucked in the crook of her elbows, folded over like she could keep it safe. Like it needed to be kept safe.

As her grandmother steps further into the yellow light cast by the dingy bulb, Elise’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. She recognizes the black leather book only without all the dust piled on it, the same book she’s never seen moved from the spot next to the jagged piece of willow.

Sarah shuffles over to her designated chair, rocking back slightly and she puts all her weight onto the paisley cushion. Clearing her throat, she opens the book. The splitting sound of the leather spine indicates it hasn’t been opened in years. With unsteady hands, she pulls out a frayed piece of paper from somewhere in the middle, small and rectangular. It’s the color of sand with black ink on the side facing Elise, who is unable to read what it says.

Sarah closes her eyes, sparse eyelashes fluttering onto her gaunt cheeks. “You know when people ask you if your house was on fire, what would be the only thing you’d run through the smoke and flames for? This photograph is that thing.” Opening her eyes and meeting Elise’s, she hands over the fragile piece of paper.

Turning it over carefully, as if the soft night breeze could snatch it out of her grasp, Elise first glosses over the ink on the back. The date reads out, “25th of April, 1939. H on the beach.” Turning it over, she finds herself looking into the sepia toned eyes of a young man, no older than 20, handsome as can be with curled hair flying about his face, surely from the sea breeze in the background. The look in his eyes bore into Elise’s, holding a serious yet mischievous glare. The rest of his face is in a relaxed state while he squints head on into the lens of a grainy camera. The tall grass behind him caught in mid sway has her thinking she can hear the ocean waves if she tries hard enough. Tearing her eyes away, she carefully watches her grandmothers expressions change. She’s never seen such an open book.

On Sarah’s face, multitudes of emotions come and go, passing over like clouds in the sky, the most prominent of them; anguish, nostalgia, happiness. Love. Unparalleled love. Whole heart love, the kind that seeps from your skin and onto everything you touch, spreading like the sea in that old picture.

In awe of this beautiful photograph and part confusion from the sudden openness her grandmother is showing, Elise asks an important question, the only question: “Who’s H?” Sarah’s mouth quirks up in the smallest of smiles.

“Harry,” she says, the syllables of his name cracking, like she hasn’t voiced it in decades. It sounds bittersweet on her tongue, like lemonade, though more on the sugary side. “Harry Styles. A man I loved for a very short time, and a man who left for a very long time, the bastard,” she laughs but the sound isn’t very humorous. “Just had to go and be the first to enlist. Had to leave me here on this side of the war.”

Before Elise can say anything, protest that she really doesn’t need to hear this story because of how hurt the older woman sounds, Sarah shakes her head. “I’m going to tell you about Harry. I’m going to tell you about the willow tree, the beaches. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I never even told your grandfather. How could I? I would have ended up comparing the two and that would be unfair to everyone. Fantasizing about Harry while in the arms of my husband. It was easier to try and just...forget. At least until they had to cut down my tree.

“When I met Harry, it was September of 1938. It had turned out to be an Indian summer, not cooling down until mid October. I sat underneath the shade of the willow tree, fanning myself with some paperback I’d stolen from my fathers collection. I saw Harry riding his bike, basket full of plucked berries. As he rode by we made eye contact and even from the safety of my tree trunk, I could see the green of them, greener than the curtain of leaves draping down my arms. He didn’t look away and neither did I, until he hit a rock and flew off his bike, berries flying everywhere and splattering red and black on the ground like a crime scene. He tumbled a bit onto the grass not too far away from me.

“I remember gasping and it turning into laughter. Whole belly laughter. I remember him looking up from his skinned knees, sea soaked eyes opened as far as they could in surprise. I remember his smile growing wider and wider until I thought his face was going to break in half. I’d never seen such pretty teeth in my life. I know it’s a weird thing to say. It was even weirder to think. They were neat, white little blocks that shone with his happiness. I fell in love with that smile right then and there. It was the first time I made him laugh and I told myself that it certainly was not going to be the last. I got up and introduced myself. I held out a hand for him to take, to help him up. I think I miss his hands the most.

“He said his name was Harry and he was out and about getting some berries for his mothers pie, said he got a bit lost and didn’t quite know where he was. I remember that single brown curl sticking to his forehead in the immense heat. I offered him some refuge, leading him inside this house.” Sarah waves an arm, countless bracelets jingling as she gestures to the familiar structure around them. She continues.

“This house has stood here forever, you know. It’s been in our family since it was built. If I concentrate really hard, I can still hear the weight of his steps on the floorboards behind me. I led him to the kitchen and helped him clean his bloody knees. His pants were absolutely ruined, ripped and stained with dirt. He wanted to act like a strong man, like it didn’t hurt and that he didn’t need any tending to because he could handle a little pain. But once I laid a washcloth on the broken skin, he whimpered. He was sweet and soft inside, like a pastry.”

At the sound of a sharp coughing fit, Elise is torn out of her storybook haze. Rushing inside to grab a glass of water, she hands it to her grandmother, who gratefully takes it and gulps half of it down in one sip. Sarah takes a breath, regains her composure and closes her eyes, launching herself back into the nostalgia.

“He left that afternoon with no berries and a promise that he would be back, that Friday, for a proper picnic underneath the willow. My parents came home that night to my giddiness. They kept asking what had made me so restless but I didn’t tell them, couldn’t tell them. Wanted to keep Harry a secret to myself for the time being. He seemed like a mirage, something I had conjured up in my head short circuiting from the head. I Just excused myself up to my room. That night, I took out my last sheet of canvas paper and sketched the outline of his eyes to what I could remember. I remembered thinking if I never saw his eyes again, I would at least have this.

“That Friday, he came to my house with a bouquet of wildflowers. Knocked on the door and introduced himself to my parents. Said he was a friend of Sarah’s. I loved the way he said my name. We sat in the privacy of the draped leaves and talked for hours. Ate so many blackberries I thought my stomach would turn into one. We took turns throwing the sweets into each other’s mouths and, of course, he was much better at it. They stained his two front teeth. It was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. After that there were many more days spent together, at the base of the willow. It was smaller then. Younger.

“One day, before the first snowfall in November on a particularly cold day, he took out a pocketknife in his right hand and put his other cupped to the tree to hide what he was carving. I was laughing, tugging at his hands trying to see what he was doing. When he finally pulled his hand away, I stopped in my tracks. He kissed me then and time unfroze. That winter was full of them. The kisses. Full of more than kisses. Full of love and tenderness and nights by the fireplace under heavy blankets and the weight of his hands on my body. His hands were beautiful. Wide and blunt, a single rose ring adorned his middle finger. I used to kiss it when he got sad or frustrated, trailing my mouth up his arm, to his shoulder, dragging my lips across his neck and finally landing on his mouth. They were very pink, bowed like a dolls. I thanked the heavens everyday I got the chance to taste them.

“Winter faded into spring. The leaves of the weeping willow grew back and it became our spot again. The photograph in your hands was taken on the beach near his grandparents house that spring. They were well off and could afford a camera and, well, a private beach. He looked so beautiful pressed up against the endless ocean, I had to capture it. I wish it could’ve showed how green his eyes were, especially next to the tall grass.”

Sarah stopped for a second, opening her eyes and contemplating her next words. Elise was completely enticed, soaking in every single word down to her bones. She didn’t want to forget this vulnerable moment. All around them, the night came alive. Above them, the stars shone silver and circled their heads like halos. In the light of the moon, as well as the dim yellow one on the porch, Elise watches her grandmothers eyes well up.

“Isn’t it funny how he loved me on this beach, but died on another, miles away, a year away?” She sniffled once and that’s all she allows herself. She continues on.

“Harry took it upon himself to immediately join the war. He was one of the first waves. Sure, they were drafting everyone but he really wanted to fight. Said he was getting nowhere in his fathers small textile business. He wanted do something right, he said. When he told me, I didn’t speak to him for a week. He would come by, sit under the willow while I sat on my bed. As it was getting closer to his departure I knew I had to suck it up. This was bigger than us, as much as I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to forget about it all and stay here until the war was over. I climbed up the tree and showed him my favorite branch that was perfect to lay on, the same branch I used to sit on all the time just thinking about life in its entirety. We spent those whole two weeks before he left together, never leaving each other’s sides.

“It was the first time I’d seen him cry. It was in my arms, in his bed, the night before he was supposed to leave. He said he loved me so much it hurt him. He said he would write to me every goddamn day. He said he needed me to wait for him. I’ll never forget the shine of the ring in the moonlight. He proposed to me, tears in his eyes. I said yes. What else would I say? No? Of course not. No matter how much I hated his choice to leave, it would have never been greater than the amount of love there was in me, for him. All throughout the night the only words said were, ‘I love you’. In between kisses, in between sighs, roaming into the air and disappearing out the window. I ran my hands through his hair, I licked his two front teeth, I kissed his ring, his fingers, I stared into his eyes and found myself wanting to dive into them for the millionth time. I was hoping, hoping so hard that it wouldn’t be the last time his hands held me.

“He left the next morning. I never saw him again. We didn’t even have a body to bury. He sank somewhere off the coast of a beach in France. Dunkirk. I felt my heart shatter, the pieces floating up my throat, stabbing my lungs, cutting up the inside of me. The pain was just too great. I cried for what seemed like a lifetime. I slept with this picture in my hands every night. I started to forget how green his eyes were. Whenever I looked at the ring on my finger, I wanted to throw it in the stream and have it be carried into the ocean and the currents would bring the ring to him, somewhere in the deep. But the ocean is far too large. I wore it, for years after, telling men I was married, that I was so, so lucky. The war ended in 1945 and whoever was left, beaten and battered as they were, came home. I was bitter. How come they all survived, how come all of those troops on Dunkirk survived, but not my Harry ?”

Elise’s breath shudders. The intensity of her grandmothers words were too much. “Grandma..” she trails off. She doesn’t know what to say. How could she? “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine.”

The older woman nods her head, a small and tired smile slipping onto her face. “These are the memories I would try to forget. I look back on them many ways,” she admits. “In anger, in sadness, in all-consuming love. Don’t get me wrong. Time lessened the hurt. If only microscopically. I took off the ring eventually and found your grandfather and created what would soon lead to you. I loved Harry so much. I still do. It’s unfair that he stays in my mind as a young, vibrant man so full of life. While that will never be what happened. While I grew old. If I didn’t have this photograph, I wouldn’t even remember clearly what he looked like. It would be watery, whittled down to only the basics; curly hair, sharp jaw, face-splitting grin. I just wish I could remember the color of his eyes. I never painted in that sketch I made. Not that I could ever do the green of them justice. I know how much those eyes loved me. I just wish I could look into them one more time, you know?” She trails off.

Elise didn’t know. She hoped she never did.

Sarah shakes her head as if to rid herself of the indulgent thought. “I’m going to go to sleep. It’s getting late and I have to run into town tomorrow morning,” she announces while slowly standing up, her body cracking under the weight. She stops and turns to face her granddaughter. “Thank you for asking about the tree. About the initials. Nobody’s ever asked. I would have never told anyone. I would have carried him to my grave.”

Elise goes to place the picture of a young man, who existed a very long time before her, into her grandmothers hands. Sarah shakes her head again. “I want you to keep it for now,” she says. “The memories are fresh enough.” She turns around and walks through the same front door she walked through with Harry trailing behind, all those years ago. It seemed like it happened in a different universe.

So much love, Elise couldn’t even dream of it. She was drained from just listening to the story. The moon rose higher and higher in the sky and the wind was starting to rattle through the house in a familiar sound. Harry existed once in this house. He knew the nooks and crannies of it intimately, just as Elise does. The childhood home took on a new form, more solemn and full of shadows. As she tip toes behind her grandmother, whose arms are slung around the little black book, she ensures she climbs the stairs safely. As her grandmothers bedroom door closes, ever so softly, Elise wanders into her old room.

Falling into bed, she puts the picture of Harry standing up against her bedside lamp, bright pink just as young Elise liked it, the sepia colored rectangle a strange contrast to the loud color. As she slept that night, fragments of green, adorned by thick eyelashes, float in and out of her dreams. And she thinks she can almost hear the ocean.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dunkirk harry #short story #honestly if you read this all youre a trooper #why do i always write harry in past time periods???#bc that bitch is timeless #kinda sad?? idk i tried to make it whimsical and nostalgic #not sure if i succeeded #anywho #writers on tumblr #my writing #harry styles au #harry styles fic #dunkirk au

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altonajitzu · 6 years

Text

Superflowers Ch.1: Nayeon

“It’s the sea!” Jihyo exclaimed with gusto. She grinned widely, taking in a lungful of salty fresh air. Around her, the members of TWICE were also showing their own version of delight.

Their work schedule had been jampacked as of late, and one by one, the member exhibited different signs of exhaustion. Mina was hardly seen out of her room whenever they were at the dorm, Tzuyu became more irritable, and Jihyo found herself using her eye drops a lot more than usual lately. Her eyes got incredibly itchy at times, and she attributed this to the make-up that might have gotten into her eyes during their countless photoshoots and recordings.

Ever the observant producer, JYP granted them a two-day, one-night trip to Jeju Island. Admittedly, it was no full-fledged vacation on an exotic site- far from it actually, but they couldn’t have asked for anything better. The girls let out delighted shrieks upon hearing the news, overjoyed at their rare chance to let off steam and just let loose.

On the arrival at Jeju Island, they were greeted with a lavish dinner in a seaside restaurant.

“Your turn to order Jihyo.” Jeongyeon said, passing the menu to her leader.

“Alright! Let’s get some specialty in our stomach!” She exclaimed enthusiastically. Everything looked and sounded really palatable, so she picked one at random. “I’ll have some Galchi Jorim. Wait never mind, I don’t want that. One serving of Okdom Gui for me please.” The waiter nodded and proceeded to the next member.

“What’s wrong with Galchi Jorim though?” Dahyun, who was choosing next, asked curiously.

“Nothing Dahyunie, I just wanted something else.”

“Have you tried Galchi Jorim before?”

“No I haven’t.” She didn’t know herself why she changed her choice, but something told her she wouldn’t like the dish, so she chose another one without giving it another thought. Jihyo now felt foolish, seeing as she had never tried it before.

“Huh, that’s weird.” The rapper shrugged, dropping the topic.

Jihyo looked around the table. Everyone was excited, either chatting animatedly or taking selfies with the others. But then she noticed Nayeon, who was seated on her left, staring at nothing in particular with a distracted look.

“Nayeon-unnie?” She called out, catching Nayeon’s attention. The girl snapped back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“Is something wrong? You look… bored.” She asked with genuine concern. Of course the vacation was meant for them to have fun, but it was her obligation to see everyone

“I’m fine Jihyo, just a bit tired.” Came Nayeon’s reply.

“Let me cheer you up then. Say, if you're Russian when you go to the toilet, and Finnish when you go out, what are you when you're in the toilet?"

“… What?”

“European!”

The look on Nayeon’s face then was something Jihyo would take to the grave.

“Gosh, shut it you.” Nayeon pushed her away, but her lovely smile finally returned. Jihyo gleefully noted, directing her focus back to the newly-arrived food.

That night, she dreamt of having fun in the sea. Unlike other dreams, this particular one was so real, Jihyo actually felt exhausted when she woke up.

_____

The following morning, as expected, was a blast. They were given free reign at an exclusive resort site, reserved by JYP himself for his artists. Thanks to constant upkeep, this part of the beach was thankfully kept in almost pristine condition. The sea spread out limitlessly to the horizon, painting Jihyo’s vision with its deep azure sheen. There was no one here but themselves, save for their managers who had thoughtfully left TWICE alone- but never out of their sight.

TWICE spent the entire morning in the sea, enjoying each other’s company as they frolicked around without a care in the world.

After a few hours, Jihyo decided she was tired enough to stop.

Stepping back onto the white sand, Jihyo winced as her foot landed on something pointy.

“Ouch. What is…” She never finished her question. Suddenly hit by a wave of nausea, Jihyo clutched her head. Here it was again, the extreme sense of deja vu. She had been feeling this for the umpteenth time today, and it was no longer fun.

Looking around warily, Jihyo saw the scene with different eyes. Everyone was acting perfectly normal, yet it felt strangely familiar, as if she had seen this a lot before. While this was true, it shouldn’t have affected her so much as it was at the moment.

Her gaze drifted to a bench nearby, where a lone figure sat. Nayeon had stopped swimming some time earlier, and now she was hanging out on the beach, completely focused on playing the guitar.

Wait… guitar?

Jihyo was, after all, not an omnipresent god; there could be a lot of mysteries going on for her members that she never discovered, but there was one thing Jihyo knew for sure- Nayeon had never played the guitar before.

It did not take long for Jihyo to put two and two together.

“Nayeon-unnie.” She muttered under her breath. The person in their group with the ability to manipulate time at will, she must have had something to do with this. The evidence kept piling up, each and every of them pointing towards the involvement of TWICE’s oldest member. Determined to find out the truth, Jihyo walked out of the water and towards her unnie.

Nayeon looked up from her guitar and smiled fondly at the approaching leader. She couldn’t have enough of seeing Jihyo in her swimwear. Even at this private site of the island the threat of paparazzi was prominent, so any sort of revealing attire was sadly out of the question. As it stood, they had to do with full body swimsuits only. Still, it did not make Jihyo seem any less attractive; the skintight sportswear clung nicely to her well-proportioned figure and glistened with water, giving her an incredibly sensual aura.

“Hey.” The leader greeted. Shaking her head from the reverie, Nayeon replied smoothly.

“Hey Jihyo, having fun?”

“I am, Nayeon-unnie, thanks for asking. I’m having too much fun right now, it’s almost too good to be true.” With this she shot a pointed look at the older girl.

If Nayeon was at all fazed from the meaningful stare she did not show it. Rather, she merely nodded and returned to fiddling with the guitar strings. Her next song, which was her own impromptu adaptation of Likey, revealed anything but a relaxed state. Nayeon stopped on second too long after the intro, fumbled one time too many on the chorus, and- Jihyo noticed upon closer inspection- her chord hand was showing the slightest of trembles. She was nervous, and Jihyo knew it.

She put her hand on Nayeon’s, forcing the older to stop playing and divert her eyes upwards to meet her leader’s.

“You have something to do with this, don’t you, Nayeon-unnie?” Jihyo inquired, seeking the verbal confirmation of what she already knew. “You’re turning back time, and we’re having this vacation over and over.”

Nayeon did not answer, and she looked away. Despite the lack of response, Jihyo could see clearly the resigned guilt and overwhelming boredom in Nayeon’s slumped posture.

“How do you tell?” She asked with a quiet, dejected voice of someone who was caught red-handed. “It shouldn’t be any more than a slight deja vu. There’s no way you could find out you’re stuck in a time loop!”

“Nayeon-unnie… I’ve known you for almost a decade now, and never once did I see you with a guitar. People can’t just up and cover a song like that you know, that takes a lot of practice.” Nayeon stared at the guitar in her hands with disdain. Never once did she think it would be her undoing.

“… I gave myself away there, didn’t I?” Jihyo nodded sympathetically. Nayeon heaved a sigh, realizing her blunder one second too late.

“But why are you doing this? I told you, overusing your powers is not good for your health!”

“Well, when we were about to head home that evening, you told me how you wished for the vacation to last forever, so I thought…”

Jihyo’s eyes widened to the size of a golfball. That was the last thing she ever expected. Of course, since her unnie had rewound the time, she could not have remembered this particular instance, but she could very well imagine herself getting sad and saying something along the line of ‘I wish this vacation would last forever’.

“Oh my lord Nayeon-unnie… I don’t even know what to say…”

“But you need this vacation, don’t you! You’ve been working tirelessly these last few weeks, and it hurts to see you stress yourself out like that.” Nayeon desperately tried to justify her action, something she realized had been nothing but a colossal mistake.

Jihyo did not reply. She stared at the time manipulator, her mind blank with shock.

Before long, Nayeon decided she had had enough of this.

“Just, forget I said anything. It was really a stupid idea, you don’t remember what happened anyway. I won’t do it again.” Nayeon huffed and stood up, intent on getting away from her leader. She knew, deep inside, that what she did didn’t really make much sense if one thought about it, but seeing Jihyo’s incredulous reaction proved was too much. She did not really hope for any kind of appreciation, but still…

“Wait, Nayeonie.” Jihyo suddenly spoke up, using the rarely used nickname. Nayeon turned back and raised an eyebrow; being the oldest among the girls, no one really called her that but herself, so the mention of the nickname redirected her attention right away.

Jihyo stood up as well and wrapped the dumbfounded Nayeon in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it to come out like that. I’m just so shocked that you’d do something like that for my sake.”

“Well it’s not really your sake alone, but others too, you know…” Nayeon trailed off when she saw Jihyo’s amused look. “Alright, I mostly think of you only when I do it. Happy?”

“Very. Look, Nayeon-unnie, I can’t thank you enough for your consideration, but please, think about yourself too. You’re bored out of your mind, and I can’t live with myself if I’m the cause for that.”

Nayeon looked at her quizzically. “That’s all? You’re not mad?”

“How could I be? That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Admittedly I did not expect you’d take my words at face value, but it has been awesome. I just wish I could remember all the time I spent here, but sadly I only do for this repeat.” Jihyo playfully pouted, and was delighted that the smile she loved finally returned to Nayeon’s pretty face.

“… Really?”

“Really.”

“In that case, reward me.” Nayeon said slyly, puckering her lips out. It was clear what she was expecting.

“I’m not kissing you Nayeon-unnie…” Came Jihyo’s refusal. Still, she planted an appreciative kiss on Nayeon’s cheek. “… yet.”

“Dammit Jihyo, you’re such a tease. This will come back to bite you in the ass one day, I swear.”

“How can I not be? I live with a bunch of girls that are trying to steal kisses on my lips everyday. I have to retaliate somehow, no?” The light-hearted banter continued as they walked back towards the others.

“Last question. How long has this been going on, Nayeon-unnie?” Asked Jihyo curiously as they sat back down on the bench, almost afraid of the answer. After all, her unnie had managed to be quite proficient on the guitar, and taking into account the fact that she’d never touched one prior, the loop was likely to have been going on for quite a long while.

Nayeon looked down, her long hair obscuring whatever expression she had, and mumbled the answer.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch you.”

“… 19 weeks.”

Jihyo promptly fell out of her seat.

____

Sitting in the van heading home from the airport, betwixt her rowdy bandmates, Nayeon rested her head on Jihyo’s shoulder and mused.

“You know Jihyo, in that time loop, I saw a lot of interesting things.”

Jihyo turned to look at Nayeon curiously.

“What are you talking about Nayeon-unnie?”

“I watched you guys doing your thing at the beach every day, then it suddenly occurred to me that I should note down what you guys did each repeat.” Nayeon fumbled with her back pocket, taking out a small notebook.

“Check this. Tzuyu was too afraid to even touch the water at first, but she gradually edged closer and closer thanks to your help… and the last day, she was frolicking in the water like it’s the most natural thing in the world.” This ilicited a laugh from Jihyo. She had been trying to get the maknae out of her fear for so long, and ironically, she did not even remember when she finally succeeded.

“Awww Nayeon-unnie, that was such an achievement, yet now I have no memory of that.” She playfully slapped Nayeon’s leg, making her pout.

“Well, what matters is that you finally did it, no?”

“… I guess you’re right.” Conceded Jihyo. “What else do you have?”

“Let’s see… Most of the others did more or less the same thing over and over, like Sana. She never gets tired of swimming it seems. Every time she challenged someone to a swimming contest, and she managed to lost each and every of them.” The duo shared a small laughter. “Or Mina and her passion for building sand castles, and our rappers for underwater wrestling.” She turned to the first place of the notebook, then continued.

“But you, Jihyo… you did something different every single time. You sat with me the day I started out on the guitar. You tried to swim as far as possible, making everyone worried. You got us all to play a game of beach volleyball. Once you even did scuba diving with a borrowed suit and equipments.”

Jihyo did not expect this newfound info. “I did all of that?”

“You did. I should have noticed this before, but this was the sign that you remembered, at least, your body did. Unconsciously you want to try something new and unprecedented, even if you didn’t know it yourself.”

The leader took one moment to absorb the observation. “I… reckon it’s true. Today, at least I think it’s today, I had a dream that I played in the sea so much I got tired even I awoke, so I felt like relaxing and taking a walk on the beach instead.”

“I see. Well, trust me when I tell you, you can now do pretty much every activity one can possible do at the beach like a veteran, and you can claim you’ve never done this before.”

“This has been an amazing experience Nayeon-unnie, I’m sure it is, even if I remember nothing.”

“Jihyo… This goes to show that even among us extraordinaires, you’re still special. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Nayeon concluded, landing a light peck on Jihyo’s flushed cheek.

“… Thank you, Nayeon-unnie. For everything.” They sat in a companionable silence, until Nayeon whispered again.

“… Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I… try something new and unprecedented too?” This got Jihyo’s attention.

“What do you have in mind, Nayeon-unnie?”

“… I want to fast forward the time. See if we can get home sooner, even if it’s just a few minutes.” Jihyo detected a hint of anxiety in Nayeon’s unusually meek voice. Nayeon was always confident- whether it was about her looks, her singing, or her charisma, she had absolute trust in herself. Even though the other members, Jihyo herself included, often acted annoyed to her self-centered, borderline narcissistic behavior, they were secretly appreciative of it- whenever they were up against something arduous, Nayeon served as their source of self-assurance. One look at the cheerful bunny girl and they felt whatever they were facing did not seem nearly as intimidating as before.

Only when it came to unfamiliar grounds did the eldest of TWICE show any sign of insecurity.

However, Jihyo would not have that. She had been there when Nayeon took up guitar- at least, that was according to Nayeon herself, and she would be there for her when she tried to raise her powers to the next level.

“Don’t worry Nayeon-unnie, just try your best and don’t push your limits. I’m sure you can do it, no problem at all.” She said in her best soothing voice.

“… What if I can’t and we get stuck somewhere in the void? What if I brought us too far forward and we all became old and wrinkly? What if…” Nayeon was stopped as Jihyo put a finger on her lips. It was warm and reassuring.

“No matter what happens unnie, I know you can fix it. I trust you completely.” In an attempt to appease Nayeon’s disquiet spirit, Jihyo planted an affectionate kiss on the hand she was holding in hers, her eyes never leaving Nayeon’s.

The older girl found herself tear up almost immediately. This alone was the reason why she had been able to withstand all the pain of being an outcast. It had been durable, always up a bold and cocky facade and striving on forwards, only because she could return to this helping hand when things were too much to handle.

“… Thank you, Jihyo-ah. Thank you.”

With that, Jihyo closed her eyes. Their intertwined hands, held firmly between their bodies, never parted even as Nayeon once again twisted the fabric of space and time.

#fanfiction #twice #jihyo #nayeon #nahyo #friendship #romance

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ryokourecollections · 6 years

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This weekend past, I had planned to go hiking in a coastal area called Kamakura, about one and a half hours (by non-bullet train) south of Tokyo, to get some fresh air out of the city, and some light exercise. Saturday was a beautiful day - sunny but not too humid, a bit breezy - and this was the day that I decided to be lazy and stay home. The next day had a 90% chance of rain, and I wasn’t ready to leave until about noon, but, at my mother’s behest, I didn’t give up, and I just headed out, hoping to evade the near certain rain!

I grabbed some very cheap takoyaki (octopus dumplings) to eat on the way to the station, but just before my train arrived, the humidity broke and the rain started drizzling. I thought to myself, ‘I have a full hour on the train, maybe it’ll be done by then!’

It wasn’t. On the upside, it was my first time on a long JR train ride like that, and I found it quite pleasant. The JR lines are a different setup than the Tokyo Metro, which I normally take, and had a nice mix of standing space and seats with big windows, one of which I managed to snag, given that, I suppose, a seaside nature area isn’t that appealing in the rain, to the average Tokyo resident.

I knew that I wanted to go see the hiking trails I had been told about, but I also thought I couldn’t in good consciousness leave before seeing Kamakura’s biggest tourist attraction, the Daibutsu, or Big Buddha. However, there were tons of signs on how to get to the Daibutsu, but nothing easily accessible about hiking. I then did what was in my opinion the most reasonable thing - just walk towards the hills! The area was extremely mountainous, and there was car tunnel after car tunnel in the direction I was strolling - i just had to manage to get on top, instead of under!

Eventually I was able to to find a neighborhood built into one of the slopes, which I thought was a good place to explore more in depth in the case of a little path into the mountains. One thing that struck me as foreign was the map of the neighborhood in one of the local parks, which names the families living in every single house on the block. It’s a level of non-privacy which I would never expect to fly in a U.S neighborhood. Tangents aside, I was lucky enough to find a little path with a signpost pointing both left and right - success!

Or so I thought. I went to one end and then back to the other, and the whole thing was a straight line only about 15 minutes from end to end. It was quite fun, with smooth cliff faces rising to both sides, and various steps of either logs or carved stone on the steep bits. I discovered on the second end an information post which revealed that it wasn’t in fact a hiking path - it was a mountain pass carved out of the rock in the early 1200′s - its being so short was a matter of function, not fun! It was somewhat surreal that I could just stumble across a path that old and well traveled, but it didn’t quite scratch my hiking itch, and I had managed to stay pretty dry despite the rain having gotten a bit heavier than before.

So, I started on my way towards the Daibutsu, but when I saw yet another entrance into the mountains, I immediately took the little diversion, and got even more excited to see it labeled as then entrance to a loop. The stone staircase led to a quiet mountaintop shrine, which I paid my respects at, but quickly looked to put behind me, as the rain was getting a bit worse. However, there wasn’t another clear path excepting the one that I came from. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a narrow footpath, but barring my way like Alice in Wonderland card-soldiers were two sasa, or bamboo grass, thickets arching over it on either side, weighed down by the rain. It being a day of adventure, I decided that it was worth pushing through the path to get to more hiking!

I was so wrong. The little plants carried so much water, that as soon as I began to push through them, I was soaked from head to toe where my umbrella had been protecting me. Dreading having to push back through the same wet plants, I just decided to keep on going forward - but the path just went on and on through these plants. I finally popped out on a much more well worn and clearly central path, like a breath of fresh air, but I had both left and right to choose from with no idea where I was. With water being forced in and out of my shoes with every step, I picked a direction, and after about 20 minutes came to a signpost, informing me that I was on the path to the Daibutsu, but agonizingly going in the wrong direction. So, I started on the now clearly delineated, but 1.5 kilometer path out of the mountains.

(The purple arrows drawn onto the map image indicate the whole path of my trip)

At this point I was so wet that I didn’t really care about the growing unavoidability of the puddles on the ground, or the growing strength of the rain. Truthfully, it was a beautiful walk. I found little native strawberries (that I thought were strawberries, then decided weren’t strawberries because of how different they were from the strawberries available at the supermarket, but were later identified as Japanese wild strawberries by my Father) and mushrooms, and climbed up and down lattices of roots and big boulders alike. There wasn’t a single other person out on the trails, I was just surrounded by the sound of rain and the distinctive call of the uguisu. The ground was really well packed, or something, such that there wasn’t much mud either - so I was generally clean, if but drenched. The only thing mildly disconcerting were all of the anti-landslide mechanisms that I saw, while amidst the exact type of weather that causes them. They ranged from pitons in the soil secured by ropes, to chain link meshes over small cliff faces, to giant grids of concrete like you can see pictured.

Eventually, (and startlingly close to where one of the ends of the first mountain pass came out), I exited, and made my way to the Daibutsu with minutes to spare before closing time. There wasn’t much to do except take a picture and move on, but due to the incredibly small amount of people, and the juxtaposition of the cold rain and the warm smoke of incense lit in front of the 1200′s statue, there was a wonderful calming atmosphere abound.

I considered trying to eat in Kamakura and head back late after checking out the nearby beach, but decided I was far too wet to respectfully enter and eat in a restaurant, so I headed back to the station. At this point in time the rain had become heavier than any rain I could remember. Despite my umbrella protecting my head, I could feel spray coming up onto my face from under my chin, due to the sheer splash impact of the rain onto the puddles below.

I was pretty happy and light-hearted about the situation until I had to sit down on the train. Not moving and within the air conditioned car, I quickly became quite chilled, and began to remember the anime trope of main characters coming down with a fever after getting caught out in the rain for some dramatic or romantic reason. Given how good I had felt before, I dismissed it...

I got sick.

(Better now though :] )

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dragon-fics · 4 years

Text

S&H: Ch. 25 Newly Weds

Chapter summary: Molten and Zion enjoy their Honeymoon.

Notes, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15, Ch. 16, Ch. 17, Ch. 18, Ch. 19, Ch. 20, Ch. 21, Ch. 22, Ch. 23, Ch. 24, Ch. 25, Ch. 26, Ch. 27

There was no greater feeling than holding your partner in bed late in the morning. Especially after crashing into bed at 4 in the morning. Well, that’s what Molten thought as he cuddled with Zion. It was about noon when he woke up, but he didn’t dare open his eyes, he was just too comfortable.

Zion wasn’t. Last night they officially bonded. Meaning they mated in their beast forms. And let’s just say that Molten had left him rather bloated. When they got back to the hotel room—long after everyone else had gone to bed—Molten played with the bulge in Zion’s abdomen. He pecked the bulge and rubbed it and did things people do to a pregnancy bump. Which was kind of cute (and kinky)—though he wouldn’t admit to it—but he mainly found the gesture embarrassing. But Molten stayed by him as the semen ran its course. So that kind of made up for it.

Now, he lay in Molten’s arms, his forehead millimetres away from Molten’s lips, his breath moving his hair. He saw that the room was bright when he cracked open his eyes, but Molten’s bulk stopped the light from getting into his eyes and that was a valid enough reason to stay in bed just a little(I) longer. So he moved closer to Molten, snuggling into his chest.

“I know you’re awake,” Molten whispered.

Zion groaned. “Just a few more minutes?” He begged, his eyes still shut.

“Sure, but you know it’s half-twelve, right?” molten smirked.

Zion hummed. and then it hit him. “Oh no,” he groaned.

“Yep.”

The couple had agreed that they’d try to make it to brunch with their families the next day... They just hadn’t predicted how tired they be.

“We could always skip?” Zion suggested, but he knew Molten wouldn’t go along with it. Molten stayed quiet before shoving himself up. Zion groaned at the loss of heat and the bright light in his eyes.

“You know,” Molten said stretching, “you look good pregnant.”

“Fuck... off.” Zion spat, getting up. Molten chuckled, pulling on a shirt. “Well, I hate to disappoint you but we couldn’t breed if wanted to: we’re different species and we’re both males so...”

“Way to rub it in, husband-dearest,” Molten held Zion from behind, kissing his neck. “So, how do you want your shower this morning? Shared or alone?”

“Really? We’re married.” He said, taking Molten by the wrist.

*-*-*-*

“Here, on the right.” Zion pointed to the restaurant. Molten parked across the road from it; his parallel parking was perfect as always. “Why are you so good at parking? you always get it perfect.”

“Heh, I learnt from the best,” Molten said getting out.

“Your dad?” Zion questioned; Flame’s parking wasn’t as good as Molten’s—neither was his driving.

“Nope. Mam thought me to drive,” Molten said, strolling across to the restaurant.

“Really?”

“Yep. Dad taught me the basics, and the Mam made sure I was well able to pass my test.” He entered the restaurant.

It was named the Bread Basket, and it lived up to its name. Right by the door there were fresh rolls and pastries, while at the back there were tables and chairs for the guests. They walked straight through to the back. To the side there was a group of tables put together. And who else would sit there other than Zion and Molten’s families, which they guessed was now one enormous family, with them being married now.

Blaze turned in his chair at the couple. “Finally. What kept you?”

*-*-*-*

“Mmm!” Zion moaned as Molten climaxed inside him. He sat straddled over Molten’s waist, gripping his scaled shoulders. He raised and lowered his hips a few more times before Molten put his arm around him and rolled over, placing Zion on the bed and removing himself from his husband. They locked in another passionate kiss. Zion ran his hands through Molten’s brunette shoulder-length hair while Molten lifted him up in between his shoulder blades. Zion gripped the back of his neck tightly as Molten kneeled on the bed, Zion’s legs still wrapped around him as they held each other tight.

Finally, they let go of each other, Zion landing softly on the soft pillows of their seaside cabin bed. Breathless, Molten lay beside him, running his hand up Zion’s smooth, short-haired torso. Cool air filled the cabin as the ocean breeze blew in softly through the open windows. A few stars appeared in the summer sunset sky. It was wonderful.

They were in Trita, a seaside city known for its beaches of soft sand and near clear water, along with its expensive boutiques that lined almost every street in the city, in the south-eastern state of Spaonia. The couple were here mainly for their honeymoon, they just happened to time their wedding around the same time as the once-every-five-years music festival: Beached Souls Music Festival. They had offered Molten a slot in the festival, but he declined on account of the wedding, though he didn’t pass up the opportunity to get some free VIP tickets that would give himself and Zion access to any of the festival’s showing. Though they wouldn’t be going to many of the shows, Zion wasn’t so keen on most of the artists and bands, but there were some he’d make an exception for.

Zion rolled onto his side, burying himself in Molten’s neck, losing himself in his mixed scent of cologne and sweat; so manly. Molten kissed his head and held Zion’s form. The world quiet, with only the sound of the waves hitting the shore and their silent breathing to disturb the peace. They drifted off together slowly.

They awoke to bright sun shining in through their balcony window, warming Molten’s bare back. Without realising he let out a low purr, he liked the warmth of the sun. This told Zion that Molten was awake. He jabbed a finger into his shoulder three times. He fell silent and opened his eyes just a little. Zion wriggled out from under his arm.

“And where are you going, Horse Boy?” Molten groaned, rolling over to see him walk to the bathroom. “Right,” he said to himself. He rubbed his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up his fringe. He sat up and looked out the balcony window. One stage on the beach was having a soundcheck before the crowds arrived. He stretched and rolled his shoulders, before lifting his head to warm his neck and torso with the sun’s warmth.

“How majestic,” Zion remarked. Molten opened an eye. “C’mon, Moltie, we have shopping to do.” He gestured to the bathroom with his head. Molten sighed and smirked.

“Fine, but we better get to chill in the hot tub tonight,” he said, standing up and walking towards the shower.

#Scales and Hooves

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screamingatanemptyroom · 7 years

Text

Writing challenge

Wrote this for the caffeine challenge. I used the prompt “You’re not having allergies, Deb, those are tears and what you’re feeling is emotions, not your lungs closing up.” for this. Thanks to @caffeinewitchcraft for the challenge game. This was fun.

Warning: this is a sad story.

The sun is rising.

The pale yellow glows lights up the field around me. Birds sing, the voices loud in the otherwise silent morning air. A light mist hangs low upon the ground, but is slowly burning away as the sunlight gains strength.

It is all so very wrong.

There should be no sun, no birds no light. The night should have never lifted, the darkness remained, but it leaves me. Life has moved on, the world has turned. Another day has started and it destroys me.

My first day without him.

I stare at the ground in front of me. The fresh dirt where only hours before I had dug to make room for his body stands out from the otherwise green field. There is nothing else to mark this spot, no stone, no cross, no flowers. Nothing to show that my heart has been taken and lies beneath my feet.

My strength begins to fade. My legs buckle underneath me and I crumple to the ground. I had been so strong, silent and unfeeling for the last twelve hours but I could not maintain it any longer. I feel tears slide down my face, dripping onto the ground beneath me.

Time passes, and I remember.

“It’s allergies!” I wipe my eyes and glare at Robert. We had been traveling for days on a quest to seek out the lost temple of Elvhert, and had stopped in a small seaside village for the evening. In the town square we had come across a small play, the actors playing out a story of betrayal and death. Despite myself I found my eyes tearing up, only to see Robert smiling at me. “I get terrible allergies this time of year. It makes my lungs close up and my eyes water.”

He chuckled in response.

“You’re not having allergies, Deb, those are tears and what you’re feeling is emotions, not your lungs closing up.”

“Shut up!” I moved away from the outdoor stage, making my way back to the inn we stayed at.

He follows me, having almost to run to keep up with my long stride. “You know, even adventurers like us are allowed to have emotions. It’s part of being human! We have to be able to feel and express those feelings.” He laid a hand against my shoulder. “Don’t bottle it up so much.”

I sighed, patting his hand lightly before brushing it away. “I’m a warrior, Robert. I need to stay strong.”

He has stopped smiling, now looking very serious. “Sometimes strength isn’t about holding things back. Sometimes its about showing vulnerability.” After a slight tense moment he grinned at me again, dispelling my unease.

“Well enough of that! Want to go get drunk?”

I return the smile. “Now THAT, I think we can agree on!”

The next morning we set out, shaking off the lingering effects of the ale from the night before. We make our way slowly to the spot listed on the map he had “found” 3 weeks ago. We had heard tales of a hidden temple, where a long extinct cult had worshipped. They had a reputation for collecting gold and magical artifacts, things very worthwhile to adventurers like ourselves. We had finished a long journey just a few short weeks earlier, tracking down the mythical beast of kvathar and saving a village from its terrible attacks. We had begun to grow restless, and had already spent a good portion of our earnings on drink and gambling, when Robert happened upon a map to this mythical temple. I didn’t ask where he had gotten it, but at the pace we left the city, it must have belonged to someone fairly important.

We reached the marked area on the map, and I readied my weapons while he strolled around searching around for a secret entrance. Having traveled together for years, we very quickly settled into jobs that suited our talents. He was a rogue and a thief, depending on shadows to protect him and quick daggers when stealth failed. I was a warrior, and much more likely to take a direct approach.

“Over here.” He pointed at a slight depression in the earth, brushing away overlying dirt to reveal a trap door. “This must be the entrance!” He reached into his pockets, searching for something. “If I can just find my lockpicks…”

“ARGH!”

With a shout of effort, I brought down my sword through the trap door, splintering it and revealing the path leading down below.

“Or you could do that.”

We traveled for hours through a series of tunnels, Robert running ahead and disabling traps before I could blunder into them. He was mildly out of breath, and muttered a few annoyed comments at my inability to walk at a more reasonable pace, but continued his work with a slight shrug of his shoulders. We were used to each other’s little quirks and annoying habits such as my tendency to rely on brute force to solve problems, his inability to shut up about his feelings. They were part of what made our partnership interesting, and our relationship even more so.

We arrived to a main chamber, finding it full of gold, expensive objects and magical glowing artifacts.

“WOW!” I stared around at the wealth before us. “I think we hit the jackpot.”

With unrestrained glee we started working through the loot, trying to find the most expensive things that were small enough to carry. As we worked, I asked: “So what kind of temple was this?”

“Well it belonged to the cult of Elvhert, and not a lot is known about them besides their reported wealth.”

I glanced around, spotting a slight movement under a pile of gold.

“Umm… any idea if they kept any monsters here?”

Robert hadn’t noticed the shifting pile yet. “Well there was some rumors about them worshiping a dragon but I’m sure that was exaggeration.”

He ended on a yelp as I grabbed his shirt, pulling him back just in time to escape the jaws of an enormous beast. Its sword-length teeth snapped close just inches from where Robert had stood. With a roar it pulled itself out from under the gold, rearing up to its full height. It stared down at us, golden eyes gleaming, and snapped its tail, letting out another horrendous roar that shook the very cavern around us.

“Does that look like an exaggeration to you?!” I cried out, pushing him behind me and drawing my great sword. I raised it just in time to partially deflect another bite from the creature, and rolled to avoid a breath of flame. As I distracted it, Robert snuck around to the back in an attempt to surprise it.

“Hey ugly! Come here and meet your death!” I slashed at the creature, trying desperately to keep its attention. He entire time my heart was in my throat, not in fear for my safety but for Robert risking his.

The creature reared back, focusing on me. Golden blood dripped from its snout from where several of my attacks had landed.

Its neck darted forward to attack, only to hit the ground with a scream of pain as Robert jumped onto its back, plunging both of his long daggers into the crease between his neck and wings. It fell heavily to the ground, rolling and pinning his body beneath a giant, leathery wing.

“ROBERT!!” I ran past its head, ignoring a searing pain in my side as one of its teeth caught me in its thrashing. I reached the neck and with a cry of anger and rage I brought my sword down on the base of its neck. The armored skin of the dragon is tough, but with several strikes I made it through, cleaving the beast’s head from his body.

The neck stops moving and the head hits the ground with a dull thud, its golden eyes glazing over. All of this means nothing to me as I struggle to lift the wing off of Robert still form.

“MOVE, DAMN YOU! MOVE!” To my immense relief he stirs, looking up at me with a dazed expression.

“Did we win?”

I laugh, despite myself. “Yes, idiot we won. Now get out from under there. I can’t hold this for long.”

He slowly and painfully moved away, wincing as he tries to move his left ankle. It was swollen and bent, most likely broken. I pass him a golden cane from the pile of treasure and he puts his weight on it gratefully.

“I bet this makes me look rather handsome!” He tried to look at his reflection in a polished shield, arranging his hair with a free hand. He smiled back at me. “Fall in love with me yet?”

“Shut up and grab treasure.” As I moved forward to grab some loot, I wiped a stray tear from my eye and muttered “I already was in love with you, dummy.”

“I heard that!”

We grabbed what we could and made our way out of the cave. My thoughts already moving towards getting home and taking a good long bath.

“Well, what do you want to do with all this gold when we get…”

He trailed off.

I looked back at him. Something was wrong. He was standing there, an uncertain look on his face, the bag of gold dropping from his free hand.

There was a sword sticking through his chest.

He fell to the ground and behind him I saw twenty or so goblins, dressed in black robes. They cheered at their kill and turn their gaze towards me.

Everything turns black.

I don’t remember killing them. I don’t remember grabbing Robert’s fallen form and dragging it behind me, slashing my way out of the cave. I don’t remember taking several stabs and slashes, the blood streaming from multiple wounds. I came to in the field outside the temple entrance, clutching the broken body of the man I love. I touched his face with shaking fingers, as if trying to memorize them.

His eyes, once full of life and humor, do not open. He doesn’t laugh, smile, or tease me about saving his life once again.

I hadn’t saved his life this time.

I sit on his grave, staring at the sun rising.

Wiping away the tears I mutter “It’s just allergies” to myself, a light chuckle escaping me that turns into a tearing sob. I rest my forehead on the dirt of his grave and I cry. I cry for the moment we shared and will never have again. I cry for the rage I feel at having lost him in such a terrible way. I cry for myself, for being alone now in a world that had always been the two of us.

I slowly stand, picking up my sword and fastening it to my belt.

“See Robert, I can cry if I need to.”

There is no answer.

“I love you Robert.”

I slowly turn and walk away, the light of the rising sun warm against my back.

#writing #writing prompt #caffeine challenge #short story #tragedy #fantasy

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graymalkyn · 7 years

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Yoosung lost their baggage and basically needs to borrow everything from V, please? I love the way you write! And I'm happy to know that you ship two of my otps (vsung and juzen), thank you in advance!

(With hindsight, setting this in a hotel made it a little more difficult, sorry ^^””” Perhaps it’s not what you expected.) As stated in Birthday, Yoosung’s hair is back to its natural color, and this is post-op!V. Not exactly NSFW because I had to tone it down a lot, but eh. Thanks for the prompt!

5) Yoosung x V ~ A lost their baggageand needs to borrow basically everything from B.

“Hurry up, Yoosung! Holdmy hand; we’ll have to run to the gate!” V urged, reaching out for Yoosung.

“I’ll do the runningand tell them to hold the gate! You still shouldn’t make any kind ofunnecessary effort, the doctor said so!” Yoosung snatched V’s backpack and ranpast him, groaning loudly.

So bright andbeautiful, V thought, as he watched his lover’s back. His light-blue t-shirt andjeans revealed a slim body, one that V both feared and longer to embrace. Hedecided against running to avoid the impact, but he hurried as much as hecould. Yoosung had already reached the gate, and was beaming and wavingfrantically, making the flight attendant standing next to him titter.

“Aaah, we can finallyrelax!” Yoosung sighed, plopping down in his seat. “Thank you for changing myseat, but are you sure you don’t want to be by the window?”

“I’m fine. Being exposedto too much light is still uncomfortable. Besides, I can see the sky perfectlyfine from here. We’ll be having great weather. And since it’s your first timetraveling abroad, I’m sure you’ll want to take a good look at everything.”

Yoosung blushedslightly and gave him a shy smile. “Heh… Yes, you’re right. Hey, we should takea picture to commemorate the occasion!” He took out his cellphone and blinked.“Ah, you don’t mind this commoners’ device, do you, Mr. ProfessionalPhotographer?”

“It will have to do,”V replied. He turned to Yoosung and murmured in his ear, “But I guess thismeans later on it will be my turn to capture you, right?” Ah, Yoosung’s cheekswere ruby red. V could even feel his heat just by staying close to him. Teasinghim had become some kind of pastime for him, something that he’d never thoughthe would enjoy so much. He left a quick peck on Yoosung’s right cheek andsmiled for the camera, looking forward to a peaceful time together…

… which seemed tovanish when they learned that Yoosung’s bag had disappeared and waspossibly on its way to Manila.

“How could thishaaappeeen?” Yoosung pouted, his face squished against the airline counter.“All my things! My trunks! My favorite LOLOL t-shirt! What am I gonna doooo,Jihyuuun?”

Yoosung with noclothes?

Yoosung with no clothes.

“Don’t worry, we canbuy some things for you tomorrow. I know! Wouldn’t you like to get a yukata?”

Yoosung sniffled. “… Iguess it would be nice to have one.”

“We can get matchingyukata, then…” V said, and then he added, “… tomorrow. I have my clothes withme, and you can borrow some of them. I’m not much taller now, so they should fityou well.”

Upon getting to thehotel, Yoosung ran out to the balcony and breathed in the fresh seaside air.“Wow! This is so beautiful! I can feel all my problems going away already,hehe…” he chuckled, turning to V. “I’m sorry you saw me sulking back then. Youprobably think I’m a spoiled airhead.”

V passed his fingersthrough Yoosung’s dark chestnut hair and kissed his forehead. “You’re preciousto me.” He wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him, burying his nose inYoosung’s neck. “So, so, so precious!”

“You’re tickling me!”Yoosung squealed, nuzzling him. “Oh?” He looked past V’s shoulder and his eyesopened wide. “Th-The shower has a w-window to the bed-bedroom!” He squinted atV and pinched his cheeks. “Jihyun, you’re such a pervert.”

“You can always pulldown the shades.” He kissed the curve of Yoosung’s neck. “So, will you bejoining me in the shower?”

A smirk spread alongYoosung’s lips. “You go first,” he said, unbuckling V’s belt. “I’ll watch.”

One by one, V’sclothes fell onto the floor as he walked to the bathroom. Even if that spacewas cool, he could feel Yoosung’s melting gaze on him. He turned on the tapsand let the warm water run down his back, but it wasn’t hot enough. Nothing ever was,compared to Yoosung’s feel. He turned around and he found his lover’s eyesdrinking in every part of his body. Such an aroused face… “Come,” V said,beckoning.

Like every time theytouched, V’s heartbeat quickened to the point of overwhelming him. Peoplealways said that romance and passion never lived long. He himself had been in arelationship before, but it couldn’t be compared. Yoosung was intoxicating and cleansing:strong yet vulnerable, demanding and calming; he was the sky and the abyss.He filled him up in a way thatcouldn’t be put into words.

“Jihyun…” Yoosungcalled, cupping his face. His lips parted in a coy smile.

It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff. He’sgoing to devour me, Vthought, as he closed his eyes and met his kiss.

“… You should have—”

“Yes, I should havetaken off my clothes before going into the shower, I knooow,” Yoosung whined,slumping against V’s side, who grabbed the towel and started to dry his hair vigorously.“Heh, thanks. I wonder how we are going to go out for dinner now. We can’t wearthe robes to the restaurant.”

“You can borrowsome of my things. Pull up the hem of the pants and… the shirt won’t be aproblem, right?” He stood up and looked for the summer pants. “Here, theseshould be good. I don’t have another belt and you’ll need one, but… Ah, we canuse this tie!”

“Why do you have atie?”

“Jumin gave it to melast Christmas.”

“I meant to ask whyyou have a tie here. It’s not like you brought a suit and— oh my god Jihyun you really are a pervert.”

V went crimson asYoosung rolled on the bed, laughing. “Forget about it! God… We… We can fashionit into a belt, see?”

“Alright, I see,”Yoosung coughed. “Maybe I can borrow your white shirt? It’s tight, compared tothe others.”

“Sure. So now allthat’s left is the underwear. There’s this one,” he said, taking out a pair ofgrey boxers, “but for your size maybe you should— what are you doing?” he exclaimed slightly horrified as he sawYoosung wriggling into the boxers V had taken off before going into the shower.

“These are fine, don’tw—”

“Yoosung, please! I’ll die of embarrassment!” Vscrambled to his feet. “Take them off! How can you do that sort of thing?”

“It’s fiiine!” Yoosunggrinned. He caught sight of V’s red cheeks and grabbed him by the arm, pullinghim into a warm embrace. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. It’s yours,” he said gently,kissing V’s hair.

“It’s dirty,” Vsulked, hiding his face.

“It’s not. Knowingyou, you probably changed it one hour before the flight. And besides, it’syours. I really don’t mind, silly. Won’t you look at me?” he asked. When V shookhis head, he leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Their eyes metand Yoosung grinned. “Heh…”

There were so manythings V wanted to say, so many words he hoped he could give Yoosung in returnfor the hope he’d given him… But all he could come up with was, “Let’s go outfor dinner.”

“Alright,” Yoosungsaid, tousling his hair.

As they entered theelevator, V looked at Yoosung’s reflection. His pale skin against the darkhair, those violet puppy eyes. His slender body, the clothes that fit himperfectly, and his bright smile, the greatest indication of his beautiful soul.V squished his face and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek.

“Eh? What was thatfor?” Yoosung blinked.

V leaned forward andwhispered his magic words in Yoosung’s ear, leaving him so stunned that he wasunable to move even after the doors had opened.

“Hurry up, Yoosung,”he smiled. “Hold my hand…”

#writing prompts #otp #v x yoosung #mystic messenger #drabbles #long one #asks #setthestarsxnfire

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agirlandherfed · 7 years

Text

Solving Crimes in the Village

This is a short story inspired by a silly tweet I made while I was watching Sally Yates testify. Senator Klobuchar was asking her some solid questions, and I said I wanted fanfic of these two. So, here you go. As far as I know, this is the world's only Yates/Klobuchar fanfic.

The village was a slip of Georgia by the ocean, unremarkable for anything except the views and the sheep.

(And, if they were honest with themselves, the murders)

Amy had opened a bakery. Sally had her sheep and her knitting—they had been astonished to learn how sheep could fill the hours—but Amy had driven fifty miles up and down the coast and couldn’t find a single apple crisp worth her time. As she refused to live in a world without easy access to a decent crisp, she found an empty storefront on Main Street, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

At first, the locals had stayed away, but Amy had taught herself to make a mean peach cobbler and brown sugar was its own reward. As the months passed, the bakery grew legs and turned into the community coffee shop. There was art on the old wooden walls and tables that she and Sally had hammered together from shipping pallets over a rainy weekend, and the coffee was as close to free as could be found.

Most mornings, she baked and talked law with those who needed it.

Some mornings, about once a month, the little brass bell over the door would jingle, and she’d look up to find Sheriff Taylor in full uniform, his hat hanging crooked over his face.

Amy loved that hat. She smiled every time she saw it. That hat meant murder.

Taylor had been coming in for coffee without that hat for the past few weeks, but he was due. As she went to bed, Amy decided to get up before the sun and open the shop early, just in case.

Sure enough, as as she flipped on the lights, that little bell jingled.

“Morning, Sheriff,” Amy said, as if the hat wasn’t looming ominously over his eyes. As if it was a normal morning. “How’s every small thing?”

The Sheriff nodded to her. He was a good and honest man, as such things were measured, and he appreciated the effort of pleasantries. “Senator,” he said.

“Just Amy, please. I’m retired.” She found a clean pie tin and set him up with some cinnamon crullers.

He stared at the plate.

“Oh,” she said, and went to wrap up the crullers in a plain paper bag. “I’ll call Sally.”

Easier than it had been, getting Sheriff Taylor to take her to the crime scene. Much easier. Whole worlds easier! Those first dozen cases had been like pulling teeth, but she and Sally were closing in on a full year in the village and the coffee shop was now Taylor’s first port of call.

On that morning, their second was the morgue.

The Medical Examiner was a thin man prone to dark humor. Amy had brought him a few pastries, and on a normal day he would have tucked in while walking them through the latest homicide.

This was not a normal day. He let them into his suite, then went to sit with his head between his knees.

“That bad?” Amy asked the Sheriff.

“That bad.” The voice came from the pool of light on the other side of the room. The woman who had spoken was tall and thin, topped by a crest of short brown hair. She stepped away from the autopsy table and removed a pair of disposable black gloves. With the gloves gone, Amy saw the blood speckled across the sleeves of her shirt.

“It’s not the victim’s,” Sally assured them. “Martin got stuck in the fence again. I locked him in the barn and came straight here.”

Martin was their truculent ram who thrived on self-inflicted injuries. He had good genes and nothing else, and Sally would have dumped him on another farmer long ago if he didn’t sire the healthiest lambs around.

“Tell me about the body,” Amy said to Sally, as she joined her friend in the light of the autopsy rig.

“It speaks for itself,” Sally said.

It did. There was not much left of what had once been a girl. The face had been split into thirds, the body into quarters. Tatters of once-white fabric lay in ruined strips across the corpse, a mix of dried blood and red Georgia clay flaking onto the steel table.

She and Amy each donned pairs of fresh gloves and went to work. They were lucky—the body had not yet been cleaned. Amy found a scalpel and used it to lift an especially clotty piece of flesh.

“No maggots,” she observed. “No insect activity at all.”

Across the room came the sounds of the M.E. vomiting into his garbage bin.

“Wha—The person who did this was strong,” Sally said, turning what remained of the girl’s right foot over in her hands. “The weapon has three blades, each between six to eight inches long.”

Amy moved her body to block the Sheriffs view, and then held up her own hand so Sally alone could see. She arched her first three fingers and raked the air, mimicking claws.

Sally nodded.

They completed their inspection. The body was starting to smell of rotten eggs, so they bid the M.E. good morning and went outside into the clean morning sun, Sheriff Taylor in tow.

“We’d like to see where she was found,” Amy said.

The Sheriff took them to a quiet grove in the woods they had visited a hundred times before. The spot where the girl had been murdered looked no different than any other grove in Georgia, but the stench of rotten eggs was here, too. Amy and Sally let the Sheriff grow bored and wander off on the pretext of a phone call, and then Sally took a vial of black powder from her purse.

“Iron?” asked Amy. “We’ve already tried iron here.”

“Obsidian,” Sally said, and opened the tube with a pop. “Earth didn’t work, so let’s try fire.”

The taller woman poured the powder into a miniature mountain, and dropped a lit match into its center. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the mountain of volcanic glass shuddered and tipped sideways, a thin line of molten lava crawling due east. They watched the lava flow across the ground until it had exhausted its fuel. It pointed straight as an arrow into the heart of the small seaside forest.

“Finally,” Amy said. “A place to start.”

The soft sound of metal on leather lit the grove as Sally took out the silver dagger she kept hidden in her boot. “We need to find that Gate and close it.”

Amy’s own dagger was light and familiar in her hand. “We will,” she said, as they left the Sheriff and the town behind them. “We will.”

This story was originally posted for my Patreons, who have my ongoing gratitude for letting me write all of this weird stuff.

#sally yates #amy klobuchar #fanfic #the slayers #Solving Crimes

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pattismithpoet · 7 years

Text

Excerpt From M Train

In 1965 I had come to New York City from South Jersey just to roam around, and nothing seemed more romantic than to write poetry in a Greenwich Village café. I finally got the courage to enter Caffè Dante on MacDougal Street. The walls were covered with printed murals of the city of Florence and scenes from The Divine Comedy.

A few years later I would sit by a low window that looked out into a small alley, reading Mrabet’s The Beach Café. A young fish-seller named Driss meets a reclusive, uncongenial codger who has a café with only one table and one chair on a rocky stretch of shore near Tangier. The slow-moving atmosphere surrounding the café captivated me. Like Driss, I dreamed of opening a place of my own: the Café Nerval, a small haven where poets and travelers might find the simplicity of asylum.

I imagined threadbare Persian rugs on wide-planked floors, two long wood tables with benches, a few smaller tables, and an oven for baking bread. No music no menus. Just silence black coffee olive oil fresh mint brown bread. Photographs adorning the walls: a melancholic portrait of the café’s namesake, and a smaller image of the forlorn poet Paul Verlaine in his overcoat, slumped before a glass of absinthe.

In 1978 I came into a little money and was able to pay a security deposit toward the lease of a one-story building on East Tenth Street. It had once been a beauty parlor but stood empty save for three white ceiling fans and a few folding chairs. My brother, Todd, and I whitewashed the walls and waxed the wood floors. Two wide skylights flooded the space with light. I spent several days sitting beneath them at a card table, drinking deli coffee and plotting my next move.

In the end I was obliged to abandon my café. Two years before, I had met the musician Fred Sonic Smith in Detroit. It was an unexpected encounter that slowly altered the course of my life. My yearning for him permeated everything—my poems, my songs, my heart. We endured a parallel existence, shuttling back and forth between New York and Detroit, brief rendezvous that always ended in wrenching separations. Just as I was mapping out where to install a sink and a coffee machine, Fred implored me to come and live with him in Detroit. I said goodbye to New York City and the aspirations it contained. I packed what was most precious and left all else behind. I didn’t mind. The solitary hours I’d spent drinking coffee at the card table, awash in the radiance of my café dream, were enough for me.

Some months before our first wedding anniversary Fred told me that if I promised to give him a child he would first take me anywhere in the world. I chose Saint-Laurent du Maroni, a border town in northwest French Guiana. I had long wished to see the remains of the French penal colony where hard-core criminals were once shipped before being transferred to Devil’s Island. In The Thief’s Journal Jean Genet had written of Saint-Laurent as hallowed ground and of its inmates with devotional empathy. He had ascended the ladder toward them: reform school, petty thief, and three-time loser; but as he was sentenced, the prison he’d held in such reverence was closed, the last living inmates returned to France. Genet served his time in Fresnes Prison. Devastated, he wrote: I am shorn of my infamy.

At 70, Genet was reportedly in poor health and most likely would never go to Saint-Laurent himself. I envisioned bringing him its earth and stone. Though often amused by my quixotic notions, Fred did not make light of this self-imposed task. He agreed without argument. I wrote a letter to William Burroughs, whom I had known since my early 20s. William, close to Genet and possessing his own romantic sensibility, promised to assist me in delivering the stones.

Preparing for our trip, Fred and I spent our days in the Detroit Public Library studying the history of Suriname and French Guiana. Fred bought maps, khaki clothing, traveler’s checks, and a compass; cut his long, lank hair; and bought a French dictionary. When he embraced an idea he looked at things from every angle. He did not read Genet, however. He left that up to me.

We flew on a Sunday to Miami and stayed for two nights in a roadside motel. We ate red beans and yellow rice in Little Havana and visited Crocodile World. The short stay readied us for the extreme heat we were about to face. In Grenada and Haiti, all passengers had to deplane while the hold was searched for smuggled goods. We finally landed in Suriname at dawn; a handful of young soldiers armed with automatic weapons waited as we were herded into a bus that transported us to a vetted hotel. The first anniversary of the 1980 military coup that overthrew the democratic government was looming: an anniversary just days before our own.

After a few days bending in the heat of the capital city of Paramaribo, a guide drove us 150 kilometers to the town of Albina on the west bank of the Maroni River bordering French Guiana. The pink sky was veined in lightning. Our guide found a young boy who agreed to take us across by pirogue, a long dugout canoe. We pushed off in a light rain that swiftly escalated into a torrential downpour. The boy handed me an umbrella and warned us not to trail our fingers in the water. I suddenly noticed the river teeming with tiny black fish. Piranha! He laughed as I quickly withdrew my hand.

In an hour or so the boy dropped us off at the foot of a muddy embankment. He dragged his pirogue onto land and joined some workers beneath a length of black oilcloth stretched over four wooden posts. They seemed amused by our momentary confusion and pointed us in the direction of the main road. As we struggled up a slippery knoll, the calypso beat of Mighty Swallow’s “Soca Dance” wafted from a boom box. We tramped through the empty town, finally taking cover in a bar. Two men were drinking Calvados. Fred engaged in a broken French-English conversation with a leathery-skinned fellow who presided over the nearby turtle reserves. As the rains subsided, the owner of the local hotel appeared, offering his services. Then a younger, sulkier version emerged to take our bags, and we followed them along a muddied trail down a hill to our lodgings. We had not even booked a hotel and yet a room awaited us.

The Hôtel Galibi was spartan yet comfortable. A small bottle of watered-down cognac and two plastic cups were set on the dresser. Spent, we slept, even as the returning rain beat relentlessly upon the corrugated tin roof. The morning sun was strong. I left our clothes to dry on the patio and spread the contents of our pockets on a small table: damp receipts, dismembered fruits, Fred’s ever-present guitar picks.

Around noon a cement worker drove us outside the ruins of the Saint-Laurent prison. There were a few stray chickens scratching in the dirt and an overturned bicycle, but no one seemed to be around. Our driver entered with us through a low stone archway and then just slipped away. The compound had the air of a tragically defunct boomtown. Fred and I moved about in alchemical silence, mindful not to disturb the reigning spirits.

In search of the right stones, I entered the solitary cells, examining the faded graffiti tattooing the walls. Hairy balls, cocks with wings, the prime organ of Genet’s angels. Not here, I thought. I looked around for Fred. He had found a small graveyard. I saw him paused before a headstone that read, "Son your mother is praying for you." He stood there for a long time looking up at the sky. I left him alone and inspected the outbuildings, finally choosing the earthen floor of the mass cell to gather the stones. It was a dank place the size of a small airplane hangar. Heavy, rusted chains were anchored into the walls illuminated by slim shafts of light. Yet there was still some scent of life: manure, earth, and an array of scuttling beetles.

As we approached Kourou we sensed a shift. We were entering a military zone

I dug a few inches seeking stones that might have been pressed by the hard-calloused feet of the inmates or the soles of heavy boots worn by the guards. I carefully chose three and put them in an oversize Gitanes matchbox, leaving the bits of earth clinging to them. Fred offered his handkerchief to wipe the dirt from my hands and then made a little sack for the matchbox. He placed it in my hands, the first step toward placing them in the hands of Genet.

We didn’t stay long in Saint-Laurent. We went seaside but the turtle reserves were off-limits, as they were spawning. Fred spent a lot of time in the bar, talking to the fellows. The men seemed to respect him, regarding him without irony. He had that effect on other men. I was content just sitting on a crate outside the bar staring down an empty street I had never seen and might never see again.

For the most part I kept to myself. Occasionally I caught glimpses of the maid, a barefoot girl with long, dark hair. She smiled and gestured but spoke no English. She tidied our room and washed our clothes. In gratitude I gave her one of my bracelets, a gold chain with a four-leaf clover, which I saw dangling from her wrist as we departed.

There was no rail service in French Guiana. The fellow from the bar had found us a driver, who carried himself like an extra in The Harder They Come with a cocked cap, aviator sunglasses, and a leopard-print shirt. We arranged a price and he agreed to drive us the 268 kilometers to Cayenne. He insisted our bags stay with him in the front seat of his beat-up tan Peugeot as chickens were normally transported in the trunk. We drove along Route Nationale, listening to reggae on a station riddled with static.

Every once in a while I untied the handkerchief to look at the Gitanes matchbox with its silhouette of a Gypsy posturing with her tambourine in a swirl of indigo-tinged smoke. But I did not open it. I pictured a small yet triumphal moment passing the stones to Genet. Fred held my hand as we wound through dense forests and passed short, sturdy Amerindians balancing iguanas squarely on their heads. We traveled through a tiny commune that had just a few houses and one six-foot crucifix. We asked the driver to stop. He got out and examined his tires. Fred took a photograph of the sign that read "Tonate. Population 9," and I said a little prayer.

The primary mission accomplished, we had no ultimate destination; we were free. But as we approached Kourou we sensed a shift. We were entering a military zone and hit a checkpoint. The driver’s identity card was inspected and after an interminable stretch of silence we were ordered to get out of the car. Two officers searched the front and back seats, finding a switchblade with a broken spring in the glove box. That can’t be so bad, I thought, but as they knocked on the trunk our driver became markedly agitated. Dead chickens? Maybe drugs. They circled around the car, and then asked him for the keys. He threw them in a shallow ravine and bolted but was swiftly wrestled to the ground. I glanced sidelong at Fred. He betrayed no emotion and I followed his lead.

They opened the trunk. Inside was a man who looked to be in his early 30s curled up like a slug in a rusting conch shell. He seemed terrified as they poked him with a rifle and ordered him to get out. We were all herded to the police headquarters, put in separate rooms, and interrogated in French. The commander arrived, and we were brought before him. He was barrel-chested with dark, sad eyes and a thick mustache that dominated his careworn face. Fred quickly took stock of things. I slipped into the role of compliant female, for in this obscure annex of the Foreign Legion it was definitely a man’s world. I watched silently as the human contraband, stripped and shackled, was led away. Fred was ordered into the commander’s office. He turned and looked at me. stay calm was the message telegraphed from his pale blue eyes.

An officer brought in our bags, and another wearing white gloves went through everything. I sat holding the handkerchief, relieved I was not asked to surrender it. An interrogator brought me a black coffee on an oval tray with an inlay of a blue butterfly and entered the commander’s office. I could see Fred’s profile. After a time they all came out. They seemed in amiable spirits. The commander gave Fred a manly embrace and we were placed in a private car. Neither of us said a word as we pulled into the capital city of Cayenne. Fred had the address of a hotel given to him by the commander. We were dropped off at the foot of a hill. It’s somewhere up there, the driver motioned, and we carried our bags up the stone steps.

—What did you two talk about? I asked.

—I really can’t say for sure, he only spoke French.

—How did you communicate?

—Cognac.

Fred seemed deep in thought.

—I know that you are concerned about the fate of the driver, he said, but it’s out of our hands. He placed us in real jeopardy and in the end my concern was for you.

—Oh, I wasn’t afraid.

—Yes, he said, that’s why I was concerned.

The hotel was to our liking. We drank French brandy from a paper sack and slept wrapped in layers of mosquito netting. In the morning we explored Cayenne. It was Carnival time, and the city was all but deserted. Overcrowded ferries departed for Devil’s Island. Calypso music poured from a mammoth disco in the shape of an armadillo. There were a few small souvenir stands with identical fare: thin, red blankets made in China and metallic blue raincoats. But mostly there were lighters, all kinds of lighters, with images of parrots, spaceships, and men of the Foreign Legion. There was nothing much to keep one there, yet we stayed in Cayenne until our anniversary as if bewitched.

On our last Sunday, women in bright dresses and men in top hats were celebrating the end of Carnival. Following their makeshift parade on foot, we ended up at Rémire-Montjoly, a commune southeast of the city. The revelers dispersed. Fred and I stood mesmerized by the emptiness of the long, sweeping beaches. It was a perfect day for our anniversary and I couldn’t help thinking it was the perfect spot for a beach café. Fred went on before me, whistling to a black dog somewhat up ahead. There was no sign of his master. Fred threw a stick into the water and the dog fetched it. I knelt down in the sand and sketched out plans for an imaginary café with my finger.

#patti smith

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hymn2000 · 5 years

Text

Hope I’ve Got Something To Lose - MCU AU fanfic - C13

Story overview: Peter has an accident, and Tony makes a drastic decision. In the midst of everything, a face from the past reappears - but Peter isn’t too sure about reconnecting after everything that’s happened.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Part of my irondad and spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: injury, hospital stuff, hurt/comfort, mental health stuff, family stuff, corporal punishment, friendship

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 13 - Nothing To Lose

Peter awoke. He blinked a bit, rubbing his eyes, and heard a crinkling of paper. He picked up the note.

Peter, Sorry we left without saying goodbye! Your father said you were done for the day and we’d be better off going home. See you again soon! Lots of love, Liz and Flo xxx

“So, you’re awake” Loki said gently, coming into the room. “How are you doing?”

“I’m ok” Peter said.

Loki knelt down in front of the armchair and stroked Peter’s cheek gently.

“You’re still terribly sleepy, aren’t you? You’re very warm, too”

“I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve played like that. I guess we tired ourselves out. It was fun though”

“You didn’t hurt yourself at all, did you?”

Peter shook his head. “Just a few scrapes, nothing worth mentioning”

“Good. Good... Look, it’s getting late. Let’s get you up and get you fed”

“I’m tired” Peter said.

“I know, sweetheart. But lets get you something to eat, and then you can go straight to bed if you so wish. Ok?”

Peter paused, sighed, and nodded. “Ok”

He sat up slowly. Loki went to pick him up, but Peter stopped him.

“I’ll walk, it’s ok”

He still let Loki help him to his feet and put an arm round his shoulders.

“What are we having for tea?”

“Let’s go and ask daddy”

Peter was so sleepy that he could barely taste his tea, but he cleared his plate anyway.

“Good boy” Tony said, ruffling his hair gently. “Come on now; time to go to bed”

Peter nodded slowly. “Ok...”

“Go on, then. We’ll come and check on you in a bit”

Peter was already fast asleep when the grown-ups went to check on him. He’d got undressed, and was cuddled up on his side, his old seal under his arm, his hand up by his mouth. He looked very small and a bit poorly. Loki tucked him in properly, and knelt by the bed, smoothing the covers over him.

“This is why I don’t want to give the suit back” Tony said, watching them. “He’s just a baby, really”

“I know what you mean. But we both know that he wouldn’t agree”

Loki kissed Peter hard on the cheek and left the room without another word. Tony sighed, and then knelt down beside the bed. He stroked Peter’s hair gently.

“You know I’m only looking out for you. Everything I do, it’s all for you. I don’t want to see you get hurt” He sighed and kissed him gently on the temple. “Goodnight, little boy”

Loki looked at Tony in surprise, and slowly hugged him back.

“Hey” he said gently. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you think I’m a bad parent?” Tony mumbled.

“What? No! No, of course not. Why would you say that?”

“...I know you didn’t agree with me taking the suit away from him. I know he’s still a bit upset about the whole thing. But I’m doing it for him. You know that, right?”

“I understand why you’re doing it”

“He looked happy today, didn’t he? Hanging out with Flo and that other girl”

“He did” Loki nodded. “He was happy. He is, generally. Now stop overthinking. Go to bed”

Tony held onto him tighter. “I don’t want to let go of you”

“Your bed is big enough for two”

Loki took one look at Peter when he stumbled into the living room at 11am the next morning, and shoved his coat at him.

“Get your shoes on”

Peter whined, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Why? I’m tired”

“You’re up, you’re dressed, and yes, I can see you’re tired. You need some good, fresh air. We’re going for a walk. Chop chop”

“Do I have to?” he looked at Tony for help.

Tony sighed. “Better do as your father says”

Loki looked at him. “...Where’s Peter’s passport?”

“What? Loki, no. You’re going for a walk; not a holiday!”

“Well, what do they always say? Going to the seaside is good for you health”

“We’ve got beaches in this country - you don’t need his passport!”

“Well yes, but that’s not the same”

“The same as what?”

Peter looked between the two of them, staying quiet.

“England”

“England!” Tony exclaimed, and sighed heavily. “You can’t just drag him off to England at a moments notice”

“It’s worth considering”

“Go for your walk. Peter, get your shoes on”

“Are we going on holiday?” Peter asked, still half-asleep.

“You’re going for a walk. T-ta!”

Loki raised an eyebrow at Peter as he yawned for at least the twentieth time.

“Are you endeavouring to become a walrus, my son?”

“Aww, I’m just tired” Peter yawned. “Can we go back now?”

“We’ve barely been out for ten minutes” Loki said. “You need some breakfast. We’ll walk, get you fed, and then walk back. Now. What do you fancy? You can have anything you like”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t want a cafe breakfast: I’d rather just eat a bowl of cereal at home”

Loki sighed. “Alright. We’ll go for a wander down to the third corner and back again. I’m not feeling the enthusiasm from you”

Peter looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. I don’t know why, especially after that full nights sleep. I thought I’d feel, I don’t know, refreshed, I suppose”

“Well, it’s like that sometimes. Besides, it’s been such a while since you’ve had that level of activity. And, you’ve been quite poorly recently, so maybe you’re tired because of that, too”

“Maybe...” he said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Is this what your illness is like?”

“Well” Loki thought for a moment. “I’ve certainly been exhausted after eleven hours sleep before too”

Peter had something to eat once they got back to the house, and then promptly fell asleep again. Loki and Tony sat down nearby, silent at first.

“So” Tony said.

“So” Loki said.

“A holiday” Tony said.

“A holiday” Loki said.

“Are you just going to act parrot, or are we going to talk?”

Loki looked at him, and sighed. “Sorry: I’m a bit caught up in my thoughts”

“I can tell you want to take him to England. The thing is, holidays take a lot of planning, and I don’t know about taking him away just now. He might still be a bit too weak”

“I’m not sure I agree. If he can mess about in a pool for a full afternoon, I’m sure he’d manage a plane journey. It’s just a thought. We’ve got nothing to lose”

“And then there’s work”

“You don’t have to come. I’m more than capable of booking a flight and accommodation for us”

“How long exactly are you expecting to go for?”

“Not too long: I’m not about to take him on a global tour. I was only thinking a weekend”

Tony sucked his breath. “It takes a long time to get to England, remember? You’d exhaust him, not to mention yourself. You’d have to fly over, have a recovery day, have a couple of days there, and then maybe another recovery day before flying back. Including the days of flights, you’d need a good five days or so set aside. Plus, you remember what he was like when we first took him to England; wanting to go here, there, and everywhere”

“You’re talking about this like you’ve said yes”

Tony stopped for a minute. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think we need to talk and plan it out properly - and even then I’m still not sure it’s a great idea. The poor thing might not even want to go away”

“I’m sure he will. Regardless, let’s discuss this properly. I’d rather have a proper plan, as you say - and I don’t want to ask him without your agreement. I don’t want to go behind your back on this. Let’s talk”

Tony looked at him, and sighed. “It’s work, too. I’d have to see if I could cancel or rearrange a few things, and talk to Pepper about this, that, and the other”

“You'd want to come, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, it’d be good to get away as a family. I know he can be a tricky bugger at times, and you might need a hand if he gets funny. But... Well, we had a great time in England, didn’t we? The three of us? I think that holiday way back then did a lot of you and Peter, in terms of bonding. Don’t you?”

“Well, we were already friends by then, but I suppose we did get even closer on that holiday... I wasn’t really thinking about going back to any of the places we went on that holiday, though. Maybe one of the places we went, but I’m not too sure. I was only struck with the idea before the walk, so it’s not like I’ve had time to deliberate over it too much just yet”

“Well, maybe you should. Although I think it’s a bit of a waste of effort on your part”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s just... I’ve got a feeling he wants to keep seeing this Liz, and him and Flo seem to be spending more and more time together now too, so I’m not certain he’d jump at the chance straight away”

“He gets excited about day trips: I’m sure a mini-break would be more than enough to tempt him”

Loki stood up, retrieving his tablet from the windowsill, and sitting back beside Tony.

“Let’s sort this properly. If I’m going to get you on board, I think formulating a proper plan is the way forward”

Tony looked at him, and put an arm round his shoulders. “You’ve already won me round, and you know it”

Peter didn’t feel great at all. He was just so tired. He refused food, and allowed himself to be taken to bed.

“Peter, your father and I were talking earlier” Loki said.

“Oh yeah..?” Peter said sleepily, settling down and cuddling up with his seal.

“We were wondering how you’d feel about going back to England. Just for a week. Seaside. For your health”

Peter sighed and whined a little, too tired for a proper conversation.

“I want to be with Liz and Flo” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

“You could always invite them” Loki suggested.

Peter didn’t respond. Loki sighed silently, and kissed Peter on the cheek.

“Goodnight, chick. We’ll talk again in the morning”

“Goodnight...”

Peter still felt a little funny the next morning. It was still pretty early when he climbed out of bed, but as he passed Loki’s door on the way to the kitchen, he heard voices. He paused, listening.

“I’m not abandoning everything here”

“No one’s asking you to. I’m just saying consider the options”

Peter stepped closer to the door - and the floorboards creaked loudly as he did so.

“Peter?” Tony called out. “Is that you?”

There was no point pretending.

“I’m just getting a drink” he said quickly, and hurried to the kitchen, not really wanting to talk to them.

It all felt so weird, them talking about going on a holiday. It seemed a random time to do it, and if he was honest, Peter didn’t really want to go away. He was properly friends with Liz now, and he knew she wouldn’t be around forever. He wanted to make the most of the time they had left together before she had to go back home. After the day he’d spent with her and Flo, he wanted to spend time with both of them together again. He was only just starting to feel happy again. Even if they only went away for a few days, he’d miss out on so much opportunity. He didn’t want that.

A quick text exchange and thirty minutes later, Peter slid into the booth in the cafe with Flo and Liz. They’d been there a little while already and were sat sipping coffee together, side by side. Peter said opposite.

“Hungry, are you?” Flo smiled, seeing he’d reached for the little laminated menu straight away.

“Well, maybe a little” he said, scanning the menu. “I kinda ran out of the house pretty quickly, so I haven’t had breakfast. I’m avoiding my parents”

Liz looked at him. “What have you done?”

“Nothing! They’re just being all weird with me. They want to take me away”

“Take you away? Take you away where?”

“England. Daddy said so last night. For my health, apparently”

“You love England, though” Flo said. “You told me all about that holiday you went on that first year you spent at the Stark’s”

“I’ve never seen anyone look so depressed after being offered a foreign holiday” Liz said.

“I don’t want to go. I wanna stay here and keep doing stuff with you two” Peter said quietly.

“Aww, you’re so cute” Flo said, moving round to his side of the booth and cuddling up beside him. “Have you told your parents that?”

Peter paused. “Well. I mentioned I wanted to be with you two. Daddy said I could invite you. But somehow I don’t think it’ll happen.. I mean, you’re only here temporarily, Liz, so what would your mum say?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think she likes me being out and about, so she can see her friends and do stuff she wants more” Liz shrugged. “She might say yes, but I think she’d want to talk to your parents first. She worries about me”

“I’m sure my mum would say would say yes, too” Flo said. “But you’d have to confirm details”

“I don’t even know where abouts we’re going. I think they said something about the seaside”

“Why don’t we go back to yours and ask about it?” Liz suggested.

Peter looked at her. “Finish your drinks first, and then we’ll go”

“Are you sure?” Flo said.

Peter nodded. “Suppose we’ve got nothing to lose”

Tony looked at the three teenagers, and then slowly turned his head to Loki.

“I told you to wait”

Loki shrugged, and smiled. “What harm could it do?”

“Loki, we’ve never even met Liz’s mother. Plus, going away with friends? He’ll just get all giddy and silly and overexcited and stress himself out - and that’s the exact opposite of what we want to achieve from the trip”

“Um, I am here, y’know” Peter said, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Tony looked at him. “Sorry kiddo”

He looked at all three of them, and then focused on Liz.

“Have you got a phone number for your mother? I suppose there’s nothing to lose”

It felt strange sat in the second sitting room between his parents, with Liz, Flo, and Liz and Flo’s mothers on the sofa opposite. Liz’s mother was admittedly quite star-struck, and Peter felt that may have helped a lot. The adults talked at length, while the kids glanced at each other and stayed as quiet as possible. Peter didn’t struggle with this bit.

There was a definite conclusion to the conversation. Peter, Flo, and Liz couldn’t help but grin at each other. They were going on holiday together.

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson #this is a rubbish chapter but at this point in my life it's a miracle I've managed to write anything at all

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