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stray-kaz · 2 years

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Dark Side of the Moon: 2

Chapter Two

Sawyer woke up to the sound of someone hammering on the bedroom door with both fists.

“You overslept!” Stiles’ voice yelled through the barrier separating them. “Wakey, wakey, Sawyer!”

“How long do I have till school starts?” she yelled back, clambering over the side of the bed and opening the door.

He glanced at her and then away again.

“Half an hour” he said quietly. “I’ll wait in the Jeep.”

Sawyer nodded. Stiles was halfway down the hall when he turned back and stopped her from closing her door again by jamming his arm in the gap. She stared at him, waiting.

“Don’t show too much here” he said to her, gesturing to his chest. “It’s just...a good...idea...yeah, bye.”

Sawyer stared after him, thoroughly confused. Then she glanced down at her pyjamas and saw that from his height and angle over her, Stiles could have seen straight down the front of it. She sucked in a breath of air, contracting her stomach and slammed the door, turning a small ornate key in its lock. Shaking her head to clear it, she headed to the wardrobe to choose a tunic dress for the first day, pairing it with black leggings and stripy Converse. She ran around the room, picking up her backpack and methodically emptying it of books and then refilling it with what she needed to begin school for the day.

“Sawyer! Stiles is waiting for you outside!”

Her heart leapt into her throat as she imagined making not only herself late, but also Stiles.

“I know; I’m coming!” she called downstairs, flying out of her bedroom; there was no time to properly style her hair.

She stampeded past the sheriff and out the open front door, tossing her backpack onto the floor of the Jeep and climbing up next to Stiles. He silently handed her an apple and she took it gratefully.

“Thanks” she mumbled, connecting her seatbelt with her free hand.

“You’ll need it” he said, putting the truck into reverse.

“What does that mean?”

“School’s tough” he replied. “But if you’re smart, you’ll be fine. Do you have a creative brain or a scientific brain?”

She bit into the apple before replying.

“Creative brain” she said. “Why?”

“Science stuff is pretty big here. Can you do any of it?”

Grimacing, Sawyer shook her head.

“I dropped maths and science back at home as soon as I was able to. My father is an English teacher and that’s my specialty. That, and history. Complicated numbers and I do not mesh well together.”

“I can help you...if you want me to” Stiles told her, keeping his eyes on the road.

Sawyer smiled at his profile.

“Okay” she said, pleased. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

“No problem. Could you help me with English?”

She nodded.

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Sawyer contentedly finished the apple during the drive to school, but then almost lost it through the windshield when Stiles slammed on the brakes.

“What?” she exclaimed. “What did you almost hit?”

He looked over at her, a mock wounded look on his face.

“Nothing!” he retorted. “I saw Scott!”

“Oh.”

Stiles was out of the Jeep and on the ground by the time Sawyer had finished unbuckling her seatbelt. He jumped up and down on the spot until she was out and then he locked up, stowing his keys in one of his pockets. He set off running without her, leaving her to follow him as best she could. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he was bounding all over the place like Jiminy Cricket on drugs.

“Scott!”

Sawyer saw the other boy turn around in a complete circle, quick to locate Stiles. He paused to wait for him, and she took that chance to throw the apple core in a nearby bin and hurry the rest of the way to catch up.

“Hi, Sawyer” Scott said, looking and sounding distracted.

“Hi” she replied, a little breathless.

“What happened to you last night?” Stiles asked, keeping his voice low.

“I found the other half of the body” Scott replied, just as quietly.

“What?!” Stiles and Sawyer said in unison.

Scott shushed them both.

“And I saw the thing that did it” he continued. “It bit me.”

“It bit you?” Sawyer repeated, puzzled.

Scott nodded.

“Yeah, it bit me” he said, disgruntled.

“What was it?” Stiles asked.

“It looked like a wolf.”

“A wolf? There are no wolves in California” Stiles argued.

“I’m just telling you, that’s what it looked like” Scott muttered. “I can show you the bandage.”

“Okay, go ahead” Stiles said.

Scott raised the right hand side of his jersey, showing them a wide white bandage taped to his side.

“Whoa!”

Stiles reached out to touch it, but Scott pulled his clothing down again.

“It’s huge” Stiles said, sounding surprised.

“I know” Scott said. “It was some kind of wolf, I’m telling you.”

Sawyer sank her teeth into her lower lip and hugged herself.

“You don’t have a hoodie or anything?” Scott asked her.

She shook her head.

“No. I forgot. I was in a hurry” she said, eyeballing Stiles.

He held his hands up in the air.

“Sorry!” he said. “I wasn’t the one who slept in!”

Scott smiled at Sawyer.

“Come on, let’s go inside. It’ll be warmer. Do you have a schedule already or do we need to take you to the registration office?”

“My schedule was mailed to me a few weeks ago” she answered, rummaging around in her pack and showing it to him.

He scanned it and handed it to Stiles, who read it in less than two seconds flat. He then proceeded to hand it back to Sawyer while reciting every subject from memory.

“History, English, math, economics, Classical history and chemistry. Well, the good news is you’re only half screwed, Sawyer.”

She snorted and shoved it back into her backpack, zipping it shut again.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence” she said sarcastically.

“You are welcome” Stiles replied.

His gaze wandered away as a girl with long reddish hair went gliding past them. Sawyer’s heart clenched, but she did her best to ignore it. She saw Scott watching her and attempted a smile. He raised an eyebrow and started off down the hallway.

“Stiles will show you to history” he called out as he walked away. “I can’t risk being late again!”

Sawyer turned to Stiles again and saw that he was staring after the pretty girl with long hair.

“Hey” she said, tugging on his arm. “I need to know where to go.”

“Oh, yeah. Right” Stiles murmured. “This way.”

He put both hands on her shoulders and pushed her ahead of him down the corridor.

“History is in there” he said, halting outside an unmarked classroom door. “I have history with you next, so I’ll pick you up here after class, okay? Don’t wander off by yourself.”

“Yes, sir” Sawyer said, saluting him.

He shook his head at her as she walked away from him, into the classroom. She waved to him as she closed the door, sealing herself off from him. He saluted back and wandered off.

Sawyer found a seat at the rear of the room, preferring to seclude herself rather than be surrounded by overbearing human beings in the form of rowdy teenagers. Nobody spoke to her, and for that she was glad. She didn’t want to seem like an absolute idiot on her very first day.

She settled down on her seat and pulled her old copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince’ out of her backpack, allowing it to fall open to her bookmarked page. Temporarily content, she smiled as she started to read and vanished into a different world.

Once the class was over, Sawyer stepped outside of the classroom, expecting to find Stiles waiting there for her. He wasn’t there and she began to panic, her stomach clenching in fear and her throat closing off. It always happened this way: somebody would make her believe they would say or do something and they just wouldn’t, leaving her hanging.

But then there he was, running towards her and looking harried. Her airway opened up and her insides unknotted themselves. She relaxed.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” he puffed, bending over with his hands on his knees. “The teacher kept us later than usual. How was history?”

“All right” Sawyer told him.

He nodded.

“Good. There’s a new girl” he replied, and then paused to think over what he’d just said.

Sawyer waited for him.

“Another new girl” he amended eventually. “Her name is Allison Argent and I think Scott is in love with her already. His eyes just about fell out of his head.”

“Huh, funny” Sawyer murmured, her gaze focused on the floor as they walked together. “Who’s the girl you like? I saw you looking at her earlier.”

Stiles glanced across at her and hesitated, but she was watching him closely, so he relented.

“Her name is Lydia Martin” he said reluctantly. “I’ve liked her for a long time.”

“Mhmm” Sawyer mumbled. “I had someone like that once.”

“What happened?”

“He told me to my face that he would never love me and nobody ever would.”

Stiles stared at her, his amber brown eyes wide.

“That’s terrible” he said quietly. “Man, even I can’t come up with something funny to say about that. I’m sorry, Sawyer.”

She waved off his apology.

“It’s nothing to do with you” she said. “It was a little while ago anyway.”

“But you’re not over it” Stiles stated as he held a door open for her.

She ducked under his arm to walk through the gap without saying anything more. She didn’t have to; he knew. She caught sight of Lydia Martin sitting off to one side and she quietly found a desk far away from her, leaving Stiles to his own devices. To his credit, he followed her and sat down next to her.

“You don’t have to sit with me” she told him.

He shrugged.

“Nah, it’s okay. She’d only ignore me anyway” he replied.

“I don’t know why” Sawyer said softly.

Stiles whipped round to stare at her, but she was busy digging around inside her backpack and wasn’t looking at him.

At the end of the next school day, Scott was jubilant.

“Allison is coming with me to the party!” he crowed at the tops of his lungs.

“Party?” Sawyer asked, wary.

Scott nodded.

“Yeah. Do you want to come? Stiles could drive the Jeep. You’d be perfectly safe” he said, glancing between them.

Stiles shrugged.

“You want to go?” he asked her. “I don’t mind. In fact, I think it’s fairly important that I do go.”

He gave Scott a fierce look that Sawyer didn’t understand.

“Well, I don’t like parties, but I’ll go with you if you like” she said.

“Sweet” Stiles said, leading the way to his truck. “See you at my place in a bit, Scott.”

Scott nodded again and waved. Sawyer smiled at him and took her place in the Jeep beside Stiles.

“Why don’t you like parties?” he asked her as they drove out of the school parking lot.

“I don’t much like people” she answered matter-of-factly.

He chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

Four days later, they were sitting up in Stiles’ bedroom, Scott pacing back and forth on the carpet. Sawyer was staring at him, wide eyed. She had just heard Stiles’ theory: Scott was a newly minted werewolf, thanks to the huge bite he received a few nights before.

“It’s a full moon tonight” she piped up, glancing out the window. “My phone automatically tells me when there’s going to be one.”

Scott gave her an odd look.

“Why does it do that?”

“Because full moons are beautiful at home” Sawyer answered. “I like staying up to watch them.”

“Uh huh...” Scott muttered.

Sawyer rolled her eyes, realising he thought she was weird. Stiles swung around on his swivel chair and stared up at his best friend.

“You may think it’s stupid, Scott, but you’re cursed! Normal people can’t play lacrosse like you did today! It was too amazing to be real! I read that the change can take place when you’re angry or when your pulse is up. I’ve never seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison! You can’t go on your date with her!” he announced.

“Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” Scott demanded. “I made first line and I’ve got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me!”

“You’re cursed! It’s too dangerous for you to go out with her tonight. I’m trying to help you!” Stiles retorted.

He stood up then and picked up Scott’s cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, instantly wary.

“I’m cancelling your date.”

Suddenly, Stiles was pushed up against one of the bedroom walls, Scott’s right fist inches away from his face.

“Scott, don’t!” Sawyer shrieked, leaping to her feet and running over to him. “What are you doing?”

Scott slowly lowered his fist and moved away from Stiles.

“I’m going home” he growled. “That’s what I’m doing. I’ll see you tonight.”

Sawyer watched him leave and then turned back to Stiles, her hands outstretched helplessly at her sides.

“I’m sorry...” she said uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

Stiles nodded stiffly.

“Yeah” he said quietly. “You’d better go, though. I need time to think about this whole thing.”

“Okay” Sawyer replied quietly.

She got up and left, closing his bedroom door behind her with a soft click.

That evening, while she was getting ready for the party, Stiles knocked on Sawyer’s door and then stuck his head round it without waiting for an answer from her.

“Don’t show too much, remember?” he reminded her. “That is the new motto when it comes to you. You are in my house and therefore it is my job to protect you and I probably can’t do that when all the guys can see down your shirt.”

She stared at him in surprise, then nodded slowly.

“Good” Stiles said, and he disappeared again.

Arriving at the party later on that night, Sawyer kept her gaze trained on Stiles’ back as he manoeuvred through the crowds of teenagers.

“Do you want my hand?” he yelled over his shoulder to her.

She did, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s okay!” she shouted back to him. “As long as I can see you!”

He nodded and slowed down a bit to make it easier for her, though all the time his head was swivelling to and fro, his eyes searching for Scott. At last, Sawyer tugged on his jacket sleeve and pointed outside onto the patio area.

“There he is” she said. “Dancing with Allison.”

They stopped side by side and looked outside, watching the couple dancing together. Sawyer smiled, silently wishing she could do the same.

“They look good together” she commented.

Stiles nodded, his focus unrelenting.

“They do” he agreed idly.

“Do you want something to drink?”

He shook his head.

“No. That’s a bad idea, Sawyer. Trust me” he replied.

“Okay” she nodded.

A few more minutes went past and then Stiles stiffened next to her, his shoulders tautening.

“What’s wrong?” Sawyer asked.

“Scott” Stiles murmured. “There’s something wrong with Scott. Look at his hands.”

Sawyer did and saw that they were clenching and unclenching on Allison’s back, and that sharp claws were starting to slide up through the skin on his fingertips.

“Oh, dear” she said quietly.

“Yeah, he’s gotta get out of here” Stiles said determinedly.

He started forward, but Scott was already moving, back into the party, through the mobs and back outside onto the street. Allison followed him, and so did Stiles and Sawyer. They watched from a distance as Scott sprinted away into the dark woods and then they saw a dark figure approach Allison from behind. Stiles held onto Sawyer’s shoulders with a hard grip. She twisted her neck back to get a good look at his face.

“What’s the matter now?”

“That guy is Derek Hale” he explained to her.

“So?”

“So he’s bad news. I don’t know why he’d be talking to Allison. Come closer and listen.”

Sawyer followed him and they caught the tail end of Derek and Allison’s short conversation. Stiles froze.

“He’s driving her home” he whispered. “I need to tell Scott. Get in the Jeep. Now.”

Surprised by the authority in his tone, she did as he said and ran in the direction of the Jeep, climbing swiftly onto the passenger seat. He drove like a maniac towards Scott’s house and then jumped from the vehicle while its engine was still running, leaving Sawyer to wait in the growing dark. She stared anxiously up at the house, a faint light showing in Scott’s room.

Five minutes later, Stiles was running back to the Jeep and throwing himself inside it.

“Derek Hale is the one who bit Scott and killed the girl in the woods” he said hurriedly, jamming the vehicle into the right gear. “We have to find Allison.”

Sawyer nodded and held onto the edges of her seat for dear life. Allison’s house wasn’t too far away and with Stiles driving as he was, they reached it within a couple of minutes. They both got out of the truck this time and banged on the front door until Allison’s mother opened it to stare at them.

“We know that you don’t really know us...well, you don’t know us at all, but we’re friends of your daughter’s from school...” Stiles started, but Mrs. Argent cut him off.

“Allison!” she called out.

The girl in question appeared at the top of the stairs, looking down at them.

“Sawyer? Stiles?” she said. “What are you guys doing over here?”

“We were worried about you” Sawyer volunteered, trying to smile. “Did Derek give you a ride home?”

Allison nodded.

“Yes. He said he’s a friend of Scott’s.”

Stiles groaned.

“He’s not a friend of Scott’s” he told her earnestly. “But don’t worry about it. As long as you’re safe, everything is fine. Goodnight.”

The two of them backed off of the doorstep and returned to Stiles’ Jeep in a tense silence that thickened the air between them.

“Where to now?” Sawyer asked in a quiet voice.

Stiles glanced at the sky, the full moon hanging up high.

“Home, I guess” he said. “And then we find Scott in the morning. He went out his bedroom window when I told him Allison got a ride with Derek.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up.

“He jumped out his window?”

Stiles nodded and started the truck up again.

“Yeah. But enough of that. Now I think it’s time to sleep. For you, anyway.”

Sawyer opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to quieten her.

“No arguments. I’m too tired to fight you on this” he said; he did sound weary.

Sawyer closed her mouth and leaned her head on the window as they drove away, the night time scenery speeding past in a pattern of black and grey.

When they arrived at Stiles’ house, he turned the engine off and Sawyer woke from her light doze. Stiles smiled faintly at her and she managed to get herself out of the Jeep and into the house, up the stairs to her room. Before she went to bed, she turned to face Stiles just before he disappeared into his own room. She pointed a warning finger at his chest.

“You wake me up when you go to get him” she said seriously. “Okay?”

He saluted her, another half smile tilting the corners of his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sawyer smiled back at him and then went inside her room, closing the door at her back.

Early the following morning, Stiles woke her up by rolling her onto her back and gently shaking her shoulders. She opened her eyes and stared up at him.

“Time to go” he said. “I think Scott’s in the forest and I want to see if I’m right.”

She nodded and pushed the covers away, sliding out of bed and onto the floor, still in her jeans from the night before. She had been too bone tired to change. She let Stiles lead her downstairs and out into the morning, not waking his father.

They drove slowly past the Beacon Hills Preserve, waiting for Scott to emerge. He eventually did, stumbling onto the road in nothing but the pants he’d worn the night before. He saw the Jeep and gratefully climbed into the back, nodding wearily to Stiles and Sawyer.

“Morning” he said lowly.

“Morning” they replied, one after the other.

“Anything exciting happen in there?” Stiles asked after a few moments of uncomfortable quiet.

Scott sighed heavily.

“You have no idea” he said, leaning back against the backseat.

Sawyer glanced at Stiles, who nodded. She smiled at Scott, drawing her legs up on her seat and turning round to see him properly.

“Tell me a story” she said.

He lifted his head to look at her.

“Huh?”

She spread her hands wide, palms up in supplication.

“Tell us a story, Scott.”

#teen wolf #fanfic #stiles stilinski x oc #liss writes #dark side of the moon

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maize-is-lost · 2 years

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Graveyard Train Chapter 10 Preview

(Cause wow it’s been almost a month and holy shit what a month it has been. Anyway here’s a scene from the newest chapter that I’ve been wanting to share since the chapter’s still in the works. BIG spoilers for Chapter nine here.)

Before Emmet can say anything, Elesa has already pulled him into her and Ingo’s embrace. It’s surreal, being here, in this moment. Ingo’s here. Emmet’s alive and whole again. And oh. This is going to cause a fun set of identity crises, he can already tell. Old memories, new memories, and memories of his time being a ghost on the train are all meshed together in his head to be sorted through… someday. Not today. All he’s focused on now is being here and hugging his brother and sister as tightly as he possibly could.

And it’s only because of Emmet’s position in the group hug that he’s able to see Krissa’s eyes widen. Ingo and Elesa are still too occupied with hugging and crying to notice her take out her phone. She types for at least a minute before he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Emailing the school office. Gotta make sure I get a substitute for my class tomorrow,” she responds with a completely straight face. Her voice is steady in a way that only a teacher with years of experience at keeping a straight face can achieve. “I doubt any of us are going to be able to go to work tomorrow.”

“Why is that?” Elesa asks, muffled by Ingo’s shoulder.

“Well, uh, for one, the… missing man,” Krissa gestured at Ingo before changing tracks to gesture beyond the trio. “And um, there also appears to be a frozen corpse behind you.” This led all three to turn around.

Elesa screamed. Fair, considering that emotions were running high and there was still a dead body on the ground. Its pieces were still frozen in thick chunks of ice, so it could have been much worse… and probably would be once it melted. Emmet turned Elesa gently, pulling her head into his chest. He could feel her heart pounding and hoped that his heart’s steady beat would calm hers.

Wow, he was calm. That was weird. Emmet glanced at Ingo. He seemed to be just as calm, idly reaching up for a cap that wasn’t there (and wow Ingo’s hair was greasy now. Yikes). Maybe it was just a “we were kind of ghosts for two years and now we’re not” thing. “We should decide what to do with it,” Emmet suggested.

“How are you two not freaking out?” Elesa asked hoarsely.

“We may have killed him,” was Ingo’s answer.

“We did not kill him!” Emmet disputed. On second thought, though… had they killed him? Did it count as “them” if it was their ghosts? Was it admissible in court? Could it even be proven if Emmet and Ingo kept their mouths shut about it? And even if they didn’t, were they accessories to murder? These were the real questions.

Krissa’s answer was to start rambling as she paced back and forth, continuing to tap away at her phone. He’d hate to be on the receiving end of whatever email she was typing up as she talked. “The body’s still frozen, so that’s our best chance at none of us getting blamed for it, I mean it’s kind of hard to draw and quarter a person without the right equipment and obviously there’s none of it here, so as long as we don’t move the body it shouldn’t incriminate us too much. Besides, it’s frozen, and none of us have an ice type Pokemon on us-” she stopped suddenly, whirling around to face Ingo. “Do you have an ice type with you?”

“The closest thing I have would be a Machamp with Ice Punch,” Ingo answered. He blinked, “And I’m sorry, but who are you? You seem very… nonplussed by this whole affair.”

“Krissa Kayne, anatomy teacher at Crossroads High School. I had to do cadaver labs in college so I’m uh. Familiar.” She coughed. “If everyone’s fine with it, I am going to call the police now.” Three quick nods later and she was rounding the corner to make the call. Emmet hoped she at least brought out one of her Pokemon to accompany her as she made her way to somewhere with better cell service. There may not have been a murderer in the tunnels, but it was still better to be safe than sorry. But maybe he was just more concerned now that he could remember everything.

#graveyard train au #pokémon fanfic #submas #subway bosses #there’s a lot of Krissa in this one but it’s literally the only time she appears lol I just like using her as a straight man in this #apologies for the month long wait but holy smokes I’ve been so busy. graduated. got a job. moved out of my parents house. I am so tired #but I’ve also been working on plotting out graveyard train’s sequel and hoo boy that’s gonna be fun

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mouse-fantoms · 3 years

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Reach For My Hand, ‘Cause It’s Held Out For You

Read on Ao3!

Tagging (just who I thought would be interested from the post this spawned from): @tmp-jatp @lydias--stiles @1neverendingstories1

More Than A Band but Jatp edition

A top priority when having 90's boys come into your life is of course showing them what they missed out on. It started with Julie putting together a playlist for them.

Another order would be teaching them the terms nowadays. Someone hadto tell Alex that you don’t say ‘periodt’ at the end of every sentence. That though, was a priority for another day.

After showing them music they missed out on, movies were next. It made sense since some of the music she had put on the playlist were songs from movies. She obviously couldn’t show all the movies they missed in the past 25 years, but there were a few that they’d probably like.

Their weekends, so far, had involved Julie setting up the living room for the perfect movie watching experience. A few pillows here and there on the comfy couch, could never go wrong with blankets, a fresh buttery bowl of popcorn, just the essentials.

They were all on the couch, finishing up the rest of Camp Rock. (Luke was immediately hooked on the summer camp with music concept.)

Julie was curled up with a blanket at the end of the couch. Luke was next to her, then Alex followed by Reggie.

“You seriously don’t want a blanket?” Julie asked Luke. She had her knees pulled to her underneath the fabric of warmth.

“I’m telling you I’m not cold.” He repeated another time.

She would have thought it might have just been a ghost thing if it wasn’t for Reggie and Alex constantly tugging at the blanket they shared for blanket space.

“I need it more!” Alex pulled the blanket towards him.

“You have a hoodie on!” Reggie pointed out.

“...I still get cold.”

Julie and Luke rolled their eyes at the pair and were instead more interested at how Mitchie was going to do at the Final Jam.

“Wait, she's singing that song? Wait!” Luke scooted to the edge of the seat, being glued to the tv. “Please tell me he has to recognize it’s her who sang in the beginning. She’s the one!”

Alex put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulled him back to the couch.

“I’m sure he will buddy.”

It wasn’t until after the number that Luke noticed Julie dozing off next to him. She’d shake awake a few times when she’d hear the high notes in the music.

“You know we can call it a night if you’re getting tired.”

Her arms came out from under the blanket when she stretched her arms and yawned, “No, no, no, I’m not. I haven’t even shown you guys a favorite of mine yet and I said we’d get to it tonight.”

Once the movie finished she grabbed the remote and went to find one of her favorites.

“This one,” she was interrupted by her own yawn, “is about a band. They form when they’re all in detention together.” A look played on Luke’s face. She sighed, not wanting to be right with an assumption, “...Is that how you guys-”

“No but could you imagine how-” Luke turned to the unamused faces of Alex and Reggie.

“It was always us getting him out of detention.” Alex informed.

She opened her mouth looking to the one in question. “What would you do?”

“He could never put away his journal during class.” Reggie answered.

“It was better than writing on the corners of my papers.”

“How would you get him out of it?”

“Well if the book wasn’t at the teacher’s desk anymore than… no evidence for detention.” Luke summed up.

“Which meant a lot of talking to the teacher while they got it back. ‘Alex, we want you to talk to her.’ ‘Pretend you have a question.’”

“The other option was you guys joining me.”

“Yeah we tried that, they never could give it to Reggie.”

Julie looked curious at the black haired ghost. “Why?”

Alex answered, gesturing to him. “...It’s Reggie.”

“Yeah, can’t argue there.”

She turned her attention back to the tv and brought up the movie.

“Lemonade Mouth? What kind of name is that?” Judged Luke.

Julie laughed to make it even. “What kind of name is Sunset Curve?”

“The kind of one you don’t come up with.” Reggie informed.

“When we were starting out,” the guitarist took the lead in explaining, “we’d play at this street corner. I guess people started liking us and would say to check out the guys at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Curve Street. Then it just kinda meshed into one with people calling us Sunset Curve.”

“We kind of just went with it.” Alex shrugged.

“Funny, well, you’ll see why they’re called Lemonade Mouth in this.”

She put the movie on and the boys seemed instantly intrigued. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes in that her eyes started to feel drowsy. Maybe Luke was a little bit right, but maybe if she just rested her eyes for a second she’d feel better. Maybe if she just made herself comfortable on the pillow to her right, she’d feel better.

“Luke, can you turn it up a-”

“Can’t.”

“What?” Alex looked at him.

“Can’t move.” He repeated, shifting his eyes to the left.

Alex looked behind Luke to try to see if he could see what he was talking about. He saw Julie’s head closer to Luke. Sure enough, when he looked past him he saw Julie with her head on his shoulder.

“Hgh,” the blonde huffed, “fine I’ll get it.” There was no point in arguing so he instead went out of his way to reach diagonal to grab the remote that was on the coffee table.

It wasn’t tell near the ending of the movie when they eventually dozed off too. However they did catch great songs before they did. Classics such as Turn Up the Music, Determinate, Somebody and a song called More Than a Band, She’s So Gone were a few they caught before they went off to dreams.

~~~

She tried her best to not worry her boys. When she tried though, all they did was.

They knew something was off when she didn’t stop by to tell them bye before she left for school. Also when Luke paid her a visit during school she just seemed detached. Reggie noted Ray seemed off and Carlos for that matter too.

The ghost was hanging around with Ray in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Carlos before he left for the morning. Reggie leaned against the archway to the dining room, watching Ray as he cooked scrambled eggs on the stove. Carlos came down the stairs, his bag slung over his shoulder, and came around to the stool of the counter.

“Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”

Ray looked over his shoulder, as he dumped the pan of eggs on a plate, “You haven’t even had breakfast yet.” He chuckled, setting the plate in front of him and opening the drawer to give him a fork.

“I know but…” He trailed off, taking the fork that was put next to his plate, looking to his dad in hopes he got what he was meaning. From him touching the ring on his ring finger, he got the memo.

“...I can talk to your Tía about bringing something over for tonight.” There was a light nod of his head. Carlos shared the same nod as he dove into his eggs.

Meanwhile Reggie leaned at the archway, suddenly now understood.

~~~

She hadn’t talked to them much the whole day. The studio that turned into her home didn’t feel like much of one today. Just a reminder.

After dinner, she found herself going up to her room, changing into her pajamas and finding comfort on her bed. She sat crisscross, her hand drawn to the scripture necklace she wore. She didn’t appear to catch the familiar poof sound until she looked to the left from seeing something in the corner of her eye appear. She saw her boys, looking sympathetic.

It was like they were a reminder. The reminder that they were here but… she wasn’t.

Luke stepped cautious, taking a seat on the mattress at the foot of her bed. “...Guessing movie night is postponed tonight.” He tried to make conversation.

She answered by turning on her side away from him, her necklace still in her hand, not realizing her foot had accidently hit Luke in the thigh when she turned over. Usually it was a nice reminder when they touched, today though, was not one of those times.

Luke looked to his friends standing opposite of him. Their expressions looked the same as his, wanting a suggestion of what to do, he looked back to Julie.

She was rubbing her fingers across her necklace in the silence until there wasn’t any.

“I can’t pretend,” she was caught off guard by his singing and what it sounded like, “to know how you feel, but know that I’m here and know that I’m real.”

Real. That word got her to look through her curls at him. He looked at the other two to join in.

“Say what you want,” Alex sang, stepping towards her bed, “or don’t talk at all, I’m not gonna let you fall.” He knelt down to be eye level.

“Reach for my hand ‘cause it’s held out for you,” Reggie joined Alex in kneeling next to her bed, “my shoulders are small but you can cry on them too. Everything changes but one thing is true, understand.” He looked to Luke to take the part.

“We’ll always be more than a band.”

They weren’t just singing lyrics. Even when she turned over to face them, they carried on.

“You used to brave the world all on your own.” Alex continued.

“Now we won’t let you go.” Luke added.

“Go it alone.” Reggie followed.

“Be who you wanna be, always stand tall.” Luke leaned in a little towards her, smiling at the two words, remembering the song they finished writing together. She smiled back, not being able to help herself. “Not gonna let you fall.”

They sang together, looking and smiling as they did. “Reach for my hand cause it's held out for you. My shoulders are strong, but you can cry on them too. Everything changes but one thing is true, understand. We'll always be more than a band.” They looked to her to continue.

With a wide smile she followed, “I never knew you could take me so far.” The proud smiles on them were hard to miss. “I’ve always wanted to hope that you are the ones I need.”

They repeated the chorus together, harmonizing, voices blending beautifully. “But one thing is true, understand.”

“We’ll always be more than a band.” They dropped out to let Julie finish.

She couldn’t help but look at her boys, proud smiles plastered on them as she looked at each.

“I didn’t know you guys stayed up to watch that.” She found the words to say.

“You said it was a favorite of yours.” Reggie shrugged as if it was obvious.

“You can’t go wrong with a band.” Luke summed up.

“Also Luke couldn’t move so that’s another reason we stayed.”

She let out a light huff from Alex’s statement. She grabbed her necklace again, looked down at it then back to them.

“...Thank you guys. We’ll always be more than a band.” She dropped the necklace and opened her arms, inviting them.

They made a hug with two people kneeling on the floor, work. She might not have been there but she sent the boys to her daughter. Maybe a reminder wasn’t always bad to have. This would be a reminder that they were a family. Family first, band second.

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avversiera-writes · 3 years

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try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Then

Summary: continuation of chapter 4, Tobirama finds out that your copulating sessions have been successful.

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: welp, here we gooo. almost done tbh. if you prefer to read on ao3, then go ahead since most of the chapters have been posted there.

available on AO3.

When Tobirama is determined, he is very tenacious. He does not let up until the results are up to his satisfaction. Which would probably explain why the moment he comes home, the two of you are rushing upstairs to make it to the bedroom to fuck and not on the stairs, or the hallways, or anywhere else where you could get caught in an embarrassing way. You’re probably already pregnant from the first time, but since there is no way of telling at the moment, Tobirama has taken it upon himself to make sure that the deed is done well and good. He comes home earlier than usual, despite the heavy work that has to be done for the peaceful treaty with Kumogakure, and then if he still has some work to do, he goes back to the office and leaves you satiated.

You can tell that Tobirama is excited, despite not showing it. When you tease him about it, he only says that it is part of his duty to bring a new generation of shinobis into the village, especially as the Hokage, but when you look away, you can feel his gaze on you and practically feel his wonder at the prospect of having children. Of course, the both of you have that duty to parent children, but you trust Tobirama to be a good father and a teacher, because he had a huge hand in fostering young children into good shinobis.

You can tell that there is also a lot on his mind, and he seems to be a bit worried about how he will be as a father. It is on the way his brows knit whenever you mention the small things you want your children to experience or whenever you see something on the street, like a toy or a nursery crib for sale.

You cannot get anything out of him though, so you can only guess for now.

Today is one of those slow days, so you take it upon yourself to look for Kimiko, so that the two of you can plan ahead for your pregnancy. You are still not sure what steps to take or whatever supplements you might have to take because you never bothered to take those things seriously. Now, you wish you had because you hate bothering people for help, even though it was offered to you.

You chuckle silently to yourself. You preach about things people ought to do, like asking for help, but sometimes you fail to do just that. However, this is something you are trying to change about yourself. You still have a lot of growing to do.

You head to the kitchen, accidentally startling the servants that are there.

You smile at them kindly, and take your time to inquire about them. You share a few laughs, and then, you ask if there is something you can do to help out, hoping that there really is something, but they refuse your help and reassure you that they can take care of everything. Not being able to say anything else, you leave them be and you go on for your search for Kimiko.

Finally, you find her outside, hanging up bedsheets on the clothesline.

“Kimiko-san!” You call with relief. You jump over the steps leading to the ground and jog to her.

Kimiko stares at you worriedly. “My lady, you must not hurry like that. You could get hurt.”

You shrug, and you help her spread the next sheet over the clothesline. You give her a small smile. “My husband says the same thing.”

Kimiko chuckles as she places a pin over the blanket. “He is very protective of you.”

“Too much, at times,” you giggle and you hand Kimiko another clothespin.

“He means well,” Kimiko replies and the two of you finish the rest of the laundry in silence.

After hanging all the laundry, Kimiko leads you towards the dining room and asks you to wait there. You look towards the wall, where you and the other servants have hung some tapestries that Tobirama had received as gifts for becoming the Hokage, and to the painting of a snow mountain range on the wall. The house is minimal and almost spartan, but it is comfortable and pleasing to look at. You want the decorations to be practical, and because at times you couldn’t make yourself care about such things, you decided to make do with the collections of arts that Tobirama and the other Senju clan members have curated and given to your household.

Some are kept in storage as you have no idea where to place them. There are rooms in the house that remain empty, but you know that your husband may need those spaces for his growing library and his multiple journals, or his unfinished inventions that may never see the light of the day and your combined weapons.

And the rest of the rooms upstairs can be the rooms for your future children.

You smile at the thought and tuck that inside your mind for later entertaining.

You light the incense burner propped on a stand and then you go back to your seat, feeling a bit restless. You wish you could put your extra energy into training or being a shinobi, but those days are over. If you decide to defy your husband and continue to take missions, the people of Konoha may talk, and you do not want them to speak ill of your husband. They already concern themselves with your reproductive capabilities. They cannot be privy to any of your marital matters.

You sigh tiredly, but Kimiko walks in and you immediately compose yourself and shoot her a smile.

“Let’s begin!” You say excitedly.

Kimiko lays out several herbs and medicines on the table, some in vials or jars, and you are drawn to the colors, like a little kid. She sits down in front of you and gives you an amused smile and you give her your full attention, like you assume how good students do.

“Do you know whether you’re pregnant yet?” Kimiko inquires.

You shrug, and give her a meek smile. “No. I am assuming that I will have to wait and see next month.”

Kimiko sits down in front of you, unsure of how to react. “Well, do you feel any different? Do you feel nauseous? More tired than usual? Light-headed?”

“No,” you think back and reflect on this hectic month, but you come up with nothing. “I don’t have any problems with fertility, do I?” You feel some dread creeping up your throat. The thought of it almost brings tears to your eyes and you’re not much of a crier.

“No, my lady,” Kimiko immediately reassures. “Sometimes it takes a while. It’s different for women, not all experiences are the same across the board.” She smiles and reaches for your hand. “Besides, it’s a bit too early to tell. I was just asking because I don’t know how long you two have been, well, you know.”

You blush and stare at her, dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“Do not worry too much,” Kimiko squeezes your hand. “Besides, that is not good for you. You don’t want your body to be stressed.”

You nod and then gesture at the small apothecary that she brought with her. “So where do we start?”

“Well, since you are not pregnant yet, we’re just going to make sure that you’re eating healthy and that you’re taking care of yourself,” Kimiko says. “You need to take some supplements, and I can prepare those with every meal you have.”

“What kind?”

“Like, when you’re pregnant, sometimes a woman’s body will be depleted of iron, so you’ll have to take more of that. You’ll need to eat lots of vegetables too, to get your source of vitamins. Ginger tea as well.”

“For?”

“Morning sickness, and the like.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you tell her, but you have already noted down the important details in your mind. “It sounds like a lot.”

Kimiko nods. “You need not to worry, my lady. It will be part of your daily routine, and I will help you.”

Kimiko begins to point out the herbs and the tea leaves, and some of the medicines that she brought with her, and you do your best to follow. You memorize the vials for treating certain symptoms that do not sound all good to you, and the jars with the ginger roots and the honey citrus tea, and other pleasant smelling green leaves that she presented.

Then, she tells you all about what to expect in the coming months. They do not sound delightful, especially when she tells you about the swollen legs and your muscles loosening and the gaining of weight or the crazy cravings, but then she tells you about what to look forward to, such as the first kick of your baby, and that you can even talk to them while inside your womb.

“Do you have any questions?” Kimiko asks as she notices that you have grown quiet.

You shake your head. “No, not really. I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?” Kimiko supplies a gentle smile.

You chuckle. “Yes. A little. I’m scared and excited.”

The doors of the dining room slides open, and they reveal your husband, dressed in his training clothes, the blue wrap-around shirt and trousers and his mesh under armour, and the green sash tied across his waist. Sweat covers his neck and his chest, and you observe his collarbones, finding yourself pressing your lips together.

“Rough day?” You ask with a sly smile.

Kimiko clears her throat and she starts to gather the things from the table. The servants of the house are probably tired of the two of you flirting and fucking around.

“Are those opiates?” Tobirama inquires, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He glances at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is she alright?”

Kimiko lets out a strained laugh, and you take note the way her voice changed. “Ah, my lord. Those are for pain-numbing concoctions. They can be used in small doses, and should your wife need it for the pain that comes with giving birth…”

Tobirama nods. “I see.” His forehead wrinkles. “I need to talk to my wife.”

You roll your eyes at Tobirama’s abruptness and you jump up to your feet. You quickly walk up to him and push him out of the dining room, and usher him towards the hallway that leads to upstairs.

“You are so rude,” you scold playfully. You bump your shoulder against his arm. “I forgot to ask her how I can find out if I’m pregnant. I’m sure there's, like, some mystical way of doing it. Like tracing the stars on the skies, or like, a lunar eclipse.”

Tobirama crosses his arms and he rolls his eyes. “Just take some wheat or barley seeds and proceed to urinate on it. If it grows, then you are pregnant. If not, then, we’d have to keep trying.”

Your jaw drops open. The idea of it is embarrassing to even think about doing.

Tobirama glances at you indifferently. “I have many nephews. The Senjus did this to confirm pregnancies. Barley for boys, wheat for girls.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Tobirama raises his eyebrows and stares at you pointedly. You are not sure whether he is kidding or not, and it makes you a little peeved.

“Why would I?” Tobirama asks in a tone that makes you think otherwise.

“The Senju and their plants,” you roll your eyes and let out a small sigh.

Tobirama shrugs, and you press your hand against his chest, and you push him towards the wall.

“What are you doing?” Tobirama suddenly looks alarmed.

“A service.”

“I beg to differ,” Tobirama looks offended. A harsh, red blush begins to creep up his neck and his ears.

You pull him against yourself using the sash around his waist.

“Our Hokage’s been hard at work,” you whisper on his lips. “It’s only right that I reward him for it.”

Tobirama leans his head away, but there is nowhere for him to go.

You stand on your tiptoes, and you lean forward to catch his lips. Tobirama stops, and when you pull away, he looks at you, bewildered and suddenly speechless.

“What?” You ask. “What were you thinking?” You give him a cheeky grin.

Tobirama’s face pinks and his hands grasp the sides of your arms. “Nothing.”

“Hm-hm. That’s what I thought.”

Tobirama’s jaw tenses, and you cannot help but smile wider.

“You do this on purpose.”

“Whatever do you mean, Lord Nidaime?” You feign innocence. You lean closer to his face. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

Tobirama stares at you, at a loss.

“I’m listening–”

Tobirama seals your lips with a kiss, so quick that it does not register to you that your back has hit your bed. The seal that Tobirama plasted on the bed recently does have its perks.

“Let’s use that bratty mouth of yours to good use, shall we?” Tobirama growls into your ear, and your breath catches in your throat.

Tobirama slips two fingers into your mouth, the pads of his fingers brushing against the roof of your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and you begin to suck at it, and Tobirama’s eyes narrow with lust.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Sweaty and panting, you and your Senju husband lie side by side on the bed. Your body is still trembling from the ecstasy of being filled over and over again by Tobirama’s seed, and each touch and movement makes your shudder and moan. Tears stream down the side of your eyes, and you are sure that you have drooled yourself, but none of that registers yet. Your mind is still frayed, and you remember the sensation of Tobirama’s cock pulsating in your mouth, the way his aroused flesh just feels so rubbery and slick, and the way it throbbed and hardened inside you until he had emptied his load in you.

You touch your tongue to your lips, and you close your eyes, still seeing stars.

You feel his rough hand on your waist, and you whimper, unable to bear any slight movement at the moment. Tobirama gathers you into his arms and you tense up. It takes a moment, but finally, you relax and melt into him.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Tobirama states.

“Hm,” you say, or what you think you have said.

You share another moment of silence with each other, and you are content to listen to his racing heartbeat, which you have familiarized yourself with. You know every inflection and startle of his heart, and whether they mean he is calm or stressed.

Finally, your bones have settled into a pleasant feeling of fatigue, and you turn to your husband slightly.

“Something on your mind?”

Tobirama takes a minute to answer you. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“The peace negotiations with Kumo are successful. We will have the peace ceremony in six months.”

“That is good,” you comment, your eyes flitting close.

“I hope so,” Tobirama says. “I will have to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’d rather you stay here, knowing that you will be safe,” Tobirama answers. “Besides, if all things go well, you’ll be pregnant, and the trip to Kumo will not be suitable for your health.”

“All right,” you acquiesce.

“That easy?”

“You know best.”

“I thought it’d be hard to convince you.”

You roll your eyes. “Believe it or not, I actually do listen to you.”

Tobirama lets out a low, amused chuckle. “I see.”

“You laughed,” you yawn.

“I beg to differ.”

“Chuckled,” you dreamily correct. “I’ll pull more laughs from you, Senju. Mark my words.”

Tobirama brushes your hair from your face and plants a kiss behind your ear. “I am counting on them.”

A new month begins, and you anticipate for the week of your menstruation. You find yourself alone again, as these days Tobirama does not want you to concern yourself with any of his Hokage duties. He has been mostly focused with Kumogakure, and while you want to do everything in your power to help him, you know that this is something that he may have to do alone, as he is the best in delegating. Inserting yourself into his manifested but fragile chaos may not let him give his full attention to it. Besides, this is the first outside project that Tobirama has taken on as the Second Hokage. The best you can do for now is to support him.

In your alone time, you pick up on reading again, whether they are about parenthood that Tobirama brought into the house at one point, or books of poems and fiction that he had curated over the years.

And in that alone time, you ponder the idea of what Tobirama had told you a while ago.

If it does not work, then I’ll have a good laugh, you tell yourself as you go into the kitchen.

You rummage through the kitchen, being careful not to make any noise so that no one will come to hear your lame excuse of being here. Finally, you get your hands on wheat and barley seeds and a humongous amount of snacks because you are hungry and these snacks look delicious, and just thinking about how its flavors make you look forward to eating them.

You feel silly just holding on to these seeds, but you make it quick by stuffing a pot with soil, planting the seeds there and doing the rest in your bathroom. Then, you hide the pot in the inner garden downstairs, and you stay the rest of the day in your room, eating and studying.

Time goes by so slowly when you are not doing much, and pretty soon, you find your eyes growing heavy, and before you know it, you are sleeping in the comfort of your bed.

When you open your eyes, it is nighttime, and your husband is peering at you with concern or maybe disapproval because you remember leaving some snacks on the bed. He touches your forehead and his cool palm makes you flip your eyes close.

“The servants tell me you have not come down to eat lunch and dinner,” Tobirama states. “Are you unwell?”

You yawn and stretch, and you blink blearily at him. “No?” It takes a moment for his words to register. “Wait, I missed dinner?”

“It is almost midnight,” Tobirama replies.

“Oh,” you deadpan.

Tobirama sighs. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“Did you just come home now?” You ask as you follow him down to the dining room.

“I got held up at work,” Tobirama replies vaguely. He makes sure that you are seated on the table and he disappears into the kitchen for a while.

When he arrives, he brings a whole entree of food with him: the rice, soup with vegetables and meat, steamed sweet potatoes, fish and a few side dishes to go with it.

Tobirama silently sets up your plate and utensils, and you thank him and begin to eat the rest of the food in silence. When the rice has run out, Tobirama stands up to get more without saying anything, only choosing to comment about making sure to slow down and chew through your food. You shrug at him, still hungry despite devouring the last of the sweet potatoes.

Tobirama narrows his eyes, but he keeps mum for the rest of the night, and leaves you to your own thoughts.

You peek from the threshold of Tobirama’s study. Your husband of almost three years is hard at work as always, with his jutsu inventing or just general Konoha policy work. You observe him for a moment, and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way his eyebrows knit together the deeper his concentration gets. His lips press together in a tight line, but you sense no bad tension from him. Right now, he is currently reading one of his notes–probably from one of his current experiments–and then transcribing it on another blank paper.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Tobirama finally asks and he puts down his pen.

You walk into his study and towards him. You gingerly take his face with both of your hands, and you study him. Your thumbs come up to caress his cheeks and then, you plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You look tired,” you comment. “You should get some sleep.”

“I need to finish this,” Tobirama replies, but whatever focus he has woven before you came, it is now gone and replaced by the tender attentiveness he offers to only you.

“Is it urgent?” You murmur. You bring a hand to his forehead and brush his hair up to reveal his pale forehead. “Can I help?” You kiss his forehead again, and then his lips.

A smile flits through Tobirama’s face but it is gone before you can even process it.

“It is urgent, but it requires about nine months of waiting,” Tobirama replies, and he places his hands on your waist. It seems like he is willing to be more affectionate these days. “Go rest.”

You roll your eyes. “I have been resting a lot these days, Lord Nidaime. Why do you keep making me rest, hm? I’ve had ample rest time.”

Tobirama looks down at your stomach, and then at you. He does not speak, and he squeezes one side of your waist reassuringly. His face softens as an affirmation takes place on his face.

“Do you know why?” Tobirama murmurs.

“No,” you start. “I thought you were just being your neurotypical, paranoid self.”

Tobirama sighs. “How are your meals? Do you find them agreeable? Do you tire easily?”

You stare at Tobirama as if he had grown another head, but you know that if you do not answer, he will keep pressing you. “My meals are fine, and agreeable. I find it impossible to get tired these days since you keep micromanaging my sleep.”

Your answers bring relief to Tobirama and you stare at him, confused. “Is there something that I should know?”

Tobirama takes both of your hands, and holds onto them tightly. “It feels strange that I am the one breaking the news of your pregnancy for you.”

Your mouth drops in shock, and the two of you stare at each other, one in disbelief, and the other smug.

“H-How?!” You stammer.

“I sensed a disturbance in your chakra, and...I realized that it has the same signature as mine. Yours flare stronger than usual, too.”

“Since when?”

“I confirmed it just now. Besides, it was just a theory.”

“Dammit, Tobirama,” you reply, more out of habit, but you are not exasperated with him.

Tobirama presses a kiss into your palms, and then your wrists. Warmth travels through your chest, and when you find your husband’s eyes, it is easily perceptible that he shares the same feelings as you.

“Now, go rest,” Tobirama orders, but the softness in his voice is so palpable, you are reeling from it.

You roll your eyes, and start to exit the study. You hear the shuffling of papers behind you, and you feel relief in your heart that he is not pushing himself as much.

Tobirama suddenly calls your name and you turn to him, expectant.

You watch as he takes a few seconds to steel himself. He is looking down at his hands, which are slightly trembling and he starts to pick at the corner of papers he stacked himself.

“Thank you, for making me a father,” Tobirama finally looks at you, and his voice is unexpectedly soft. The usual hardness in his tone is gone, replaced by this man, that is all soft tight-lipped smiles towards you. He is without the cold exterior that you experience from time to time.

This is Senju Tobirama, the man that you have always seen in him. Here in front of you, he is not the Nidaime Hokage, not the fastest shinobi in this generation, not the hailed politician nor his brother’s keeper.

He is just your husband right, here. Now.

“I know I impose on you a lot, but I also hope that you can depend on me some more. I am your husband,” Tobirama quietly says, his eyes set towards the ground. “I cannot promise that I will be a good father, but I must try. My own child cannot experience the cruelty I grew up with.”

“I know you will,” you tell him, and you give him a grin. “I know that you will protect them and fight for them, and that is what a good father does.”

Tobirama meets your gaze, and he nods. “Go. I will meet you in the bedroom in a moment.”

You smile, and you almost break out into a run, but Tobirama quickly reprimands you.

“Walk, do not run,” you hear him say from his study.

You walk, but you hurry towards the inner garden where you hid the pot of wheat and barley seeds. You pull it out from its hiding place, and you stare at it, joy bubbling deep inside your chest.

Tears prickle your eyes, and you blink them away.

The wheat has begun to grow, and you let out a breath that you have been holding.

You are with a child, and the realization makes you want to jump from excitement. You laugh to yourself, and decide to tell Tobirama your findings later, when the pregnancy is well on its way.

To be continued...

Chapter 6 - Now >>

#Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x you #tobirama x reader #naruto fanfiction #angelica writes #you never said goodbye timeline/au #'til death do us part

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blackenedwhite97 · 4 years

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Birthday Gifts-Reader x Aizawa [BNHA] {NSFW}

Request:

“Idk if your requests are open or anything but can I get a (really detailed lmao) Aizawa oneshot? It's the reader's birthday and to celebrate it they go out with their friends (Aizawa, Mic, Midnight, those peeps) and they get drunk with Aizawa? Then Aizawa takes them to his house and they have a heated, drunken makeout session and end up doing it? And they wake up sober and all and they just look at eachother like 👀 Please and thank you (you can just delete this if you don't wanna write it lol)”

This post includes: , sexual content (so many), cursing, alcohol use and unprotected sex.

As usual I overwrote! Use the “keep reading” page breaks as your guide, the smut and fun times will be nested in between breaks for easy access to anyone who just wants a one way ticket, no lay overs, to horn town.

Author’s note: Requests are super cool and fuel me when I’m brain dead. If you want something sexy/ steamy please keep the character request over 18+ and keep it (fantasies/ role play aside) groovy and consensual.

Okay, birthday sex now.

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

You could hear Midnight’s heals echoing down through the halls of your apartment, the thin walls couldn’t defend against her unstoppable strut. You looked yourself over in the full-length mirror you’d hung next to the coat rack, smoothing out your mesh shirt. You had tried your best to dress up, you had even rooted through your closet until you had found your good jeans. If you were honest with yourself, you were a full-time teacher and a full-time pro-hero, most social events usually demanded your hero costume, or your agency provided appropriate formal wear.

In recent years your wardrobe had thinned out considerably, any and all clubbing clothes were long gone or buried under the pile of ruined costume pieces you refused to clean out from your closet. The black mesh shirt you were wearing was borrowed, embarrassingly enough, from your niece who also had to supply the black tank top under it. You had never felt so desperate for clothes than when your niece had to start lending you clothes for your own birthday party. The one silver lining was seeing the scandalized look on your brother’s face when he saw what you had grabbed from her closet.

The front door swung open, Midnight’s spare key dangling in the lock.

“You know you can knock if I’m home.” You took stock of the mass of bags hanging from her arms.

She paused and looked you up and down. “A for effort but I have something for you to wear.”

You looked down at yourself then back at her. You had thought the mesh shirt was bordering on scandalous but compared to Midnight’s shimmering cut out dress you definitely looked like your sixteen-year-old niece had dressed you.

“But,” You gestured to your torso dramatically. “I did the mesh thing! That’s not hot?”

Midnight laughed and dropped one arm of bags unceremoniously on the ground. She scurried around you towards the kitchen pulling out a very luxurious looking bottle of champagne. “It’s your birthday and you aren’t showing leg.”

Since becoming friends with Midnight you had found yourself being spoiled left and right by her. She enjoyed the finer things in life, fine clothes, good drink and gourmet food. She also enjoyed good company, which she reminded you daily that you fit that bill. It was nice, when it wasn’t overwhelming.

“Pink bag.” She said and pointed to the pile of bags on the floor. “I’m getting you laid tonight.”

Your mind tried to picture the dress and all you could come up with was different iterations of Midnight’s hero costume. While you adored Midnight and her style and confidence, it wasn’t quite you. Aside from that the bag was embellished with the logo of a local high-end boutique. Expensive. “How much-”

“It’s a birthday present.” She cut you off.

“Midnight I can’t take-” you tried again.

“Don’t refuse a gift,” the bottle of the champagne rocketed up and dented your low ceiling. “it’s rude.”

You pointed to the ceiling. “That’s rude.”

“Just go put it on!” she waved you off as she began a fruitless search for champagne flutes that you surely didn’t own.

You scoped up the bag and looked at your jean clad legs longingly, you could do so much in jeans and so little in a dress (without revealing yourself). You peaked inside, a neatly folded mound of matt black fabric peeking through the decorative tissue paper. At least it’s not shiny.

As you headed to your room Midnight called after you. “The boys are coming here and we’re all splitting the cab there!”

Your heart jumped in your chest. The boys. Plural. Did that include- no he hates clubs. If he is coming over then that meant that he’d see you in whatever Midnight had selected for you. You grinned to yourself as you stared at the bag on your bed. Sneaky. No wonder she seemed so proud of herself. Although you certainly tried to keep it a secret, Midnight read you like an open book. She noticed how you trailed after him, stared at doors he’d left through.

You lifted the dress from the bag and left it unfold in your hands. It was simple, fitted and clean. You sighed in relief. A small bundle of lace fell out of the bundle to the ground and you looked down red faced to find a black thong on the floor.

“Put everything on!” You could hear the shit eating grin plastered on Midnight’s face.

You huffed and slid off your jeans, staring at the lacey panties with hesitation. Dressed fly up all the time, and you were somewhat of a public figure. But it would be hot to reach up your dress to find those.

Shit.

You swapped your underwear and slid the dress on. You very quickly realized that you’d have to go braless, the plunging neckline wouldn’t allow it. You had to admit, Midnight knew how to dress just about anyone. When she didn’t get overzealous that is. A memory of the sequinned ball gown she tried to convince you to buy last Christmas for Mt. Lady’s party flashed through your mind. You peaked into the bag, the shoes she’d thrown in were a pair of her own and were far too tall and had far too much ankle snapping capabilities for you. Luckily you had swiped a pair of heels from your agency’s closet, you were the only one with the right size of feet to wear them anyways. They were semi ornate burgundy heels that were tall enough to give you those sculpted calves but not so tall as to lend themselves to causing you serious bodily harm should you take a tumble.

You looked yourself over in the mirror and liked what you saw, a new confidence washed over you.

“I look hot as hell.” You declared under your breath.You opened your door, ready to show off Midnight’s hard work.

All confidence drained out of you for a split second when you made eye contact with the Aizawa as he leaned on your counter, a wine glass filled with champagne.

“Uh, H-Hi!” you squeaked. Aizawa looked lost for a moment, probably trying to zone out the energetic conversation Mic and Midnight seemed to be having on the opposite side of the kitchen island from him. He straightened up at the sight of you and you could have sworn a light pink blush attempted to break through across his cheeks. You liked to hope it was you he was blushing at but told yourself he could be a blusher when he drank.

“Hi.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “You look…like the birthday girl.”

He blinked long and hard. That sentence was as awkward for him as it was for you. Midnight jumped towards you, arms outstretched and demanded a spin.

“Let me see my work.” She spun you around and leaned in close so no one could hear. “Is it all on?”

You grinned despite yourself. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Her hand patted your ass and she stepped away.

“You don’t have any champagne flutes!” She said, declaring a change in topic.

“I don’t drink champagne, why do I need champagne flutes?” You defended yourself and she slid a bubbly filled wine glass towards you, but also suspiciously close to where Aizawa was leaning. You took the glass and settled for a more comfortable distance from him, not that you didn’t crave getting as close as possible but you thought you should at least wait until you could blame any embarrassing advances on the alcohol.

“Yeah,” Midnight gestures at herself. “but I do!”

“They’re just skinny wine glasses, though.” Aizawa chimed in, his low calm voice hinting at entertained.

“Sho, my man.” Mic reached across the island and clapped a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder. “You are not a man culture.”

Aizawa turned directly to you, his deep eyes boring into yours. Again, you noticed that slight flush of color on his cheeks. “I think you wine glasses are just fine, don’t listen to these two.”

You grinned at him. “Thank-you, on behalf of me and my wine glasses.”

Midnight jumped, pulling her phone from her ample cleavage. “Cabs here!”

Aizawa began collecting wine glasses but you waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them in the morning.”

He placed his in the sink before Midnight was practically yanking you and him out the door.

“I need my wallet!” you yelped trying to grab your purse on the way out.

“No, you don’t! You aren’t paying for anything tonight!” she said wrapping a ridiculously strong arm around your shoulders.

Aizawa shot an arm out grabbing your purse off your coat rack as he was ushered out the door and handed it to you. “Uh, here.”

“Thanks.” You turned to lock the door, but Midnight was already pulling her key from the lock.

“Let’s go!” she sang as she began her unstoppable strut out of the building.

Midnight had shoved you and Aizawa in the back seat of the SUV, demanded her jacket be given its own seat in the back with you and insisted it could not get wrinkled. She was really good at this. You ended up sitting in the middle seat, having to lean into Aizawa periodically when she would remind you not to lean into her jacket. It was a very nice faux fur jacket, but you knew fur didn’t wrinkle. And you were pretty sure Aizawa knew that too.

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There was a big surprise that was ill timed but all together commendable. When you entered the bar some of the guests were still scurrying into their hiding places, you pretended for everyone’s sake to be very surprised. You even jumped and grabbed onto Aizawa for support, which the thankfully played along with by “catching” you in your shock. You were flooded with drink offers, some by hero’s you��d never even met before. Big parties with lots of booze do that, make everyone want to buy the birthday girl a drink. You gladly accepted a handful of drinks before pawning them off on All Might who had the metabolism of a God and Aizawa who soon enough was drunker than you.

Midnight and Mic were in their element, dancing and singing away. The crowd was so drawn to them that after a while you were able to retreat to a booth in the back and watch them light up the room from afar. You spun your untouched glass of god knows what, watching the melting ice swirl around the nearly fluorescent liquid.

“What’s that?” Aizawa grumbled towards your drink as he slid into the booth next to you. At some point in the night his shirt had become progressively more undone, the sleeves were rolled up and his hair fell from its elastic. He smelled of booze but beyond that a subtle wave of musk and soap washed over you.

“Dunno.” You said pushing it away and leaning into his shoulder. “Stay still, kay?”

“Room spinning?” He asked, leaning into you.

You nodded and closed your eyes taking in his smell. Something about this was so comfortable.

“I like this.” You said pulling on his shirt. “You look good in a dress shirt.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You smirked. Hell yeah you did. “You should see what Midnight has me wearing underneath.”

There was a moment when all you could feel was Aizawa taking a deep breath beneath your head. “Is that an invitation?”

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was definitely blushing now, but there was no awkwardness in his eyes. They were intense, alight with heat and intent. You nodded against his shoulder and watched a smirk spread across his lips. A warm calloused hand found its way to your thigh and traveled upward under your dress, barely brushing the lace panties. It was barely a brush, but you felt excitement pull at your gut.

“Well, shit.” He breathed.

You swallowed your fear and decided that you were drunk enough to be able to blame it on that if this went poorly. You sat yourself up and pressed your hands to his chest, his hand stayed at its post between your legs and his eyes stayed glued to yours. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. He melted into you, his spare hand finding your hip. He instantly began nipping at your bottom lip and running his tongue across your lips until you gave into the wet sloppy drunk kisses. Not that you minded, you too were wet, sloppy and drunk.

His hands traveled everywhere, grabbing and stroking any part of you he could. By the time his hand found your inner thigh again you had swung a leg over his lap and he had begun to leave love bites across your collarbone and neck. You reached down and palmed him between your legs and he hissed, pulling away from you and taking hold of your jaw so he could look you in the eyes. It took you a minute to focus on him, the heat running through you threatening to burn through your clothes.

“Not here.” He breathed, huffing when you stroked him through his pants again. “I’m not fucking you here.”

You pouted and slumped back, hitting the table filled with drinks at varying stages of finished. He caught you by the hips before you fell too far back and laughed, his eyes impossibly warm and soft. “My place is two blocks away.”

You slid off of him and pulled our skirt down, hiding what fraction of our pride you still could for any possible on lookers. You reached out towards him. “This is my get laid dress, so lay me.”

He paused for a second, shaking his head and chuckling. You cringed inwards, possibly the worst sentence you leave your mouth.

“I know what you mean.” Aizawa said, ducking back to grab your purse from the booth. “Here.”

You grabbed it and latched onto his arm as the two of you leaned onto each other for support, hopefully creating the appearance of two only mildly buzzed people. You were both swaying, his hand unable to detach itself from your ass and yours keeping itself warm under his shirt. The walk was quick but clumsy, your “practical” heels failing you and demanding to be taken off over a sewer grate.

The most treacherous part of your journey was perhaps the dreaded keyhole in his door handle. You thanked god he lived on the first floor, at this point stairs were not an option. As soon as the door was open you were practically thrown inside to the dark apartment, your back hitting a wall a few feet from the door. He kicked the door closed behind him and was on you before the latch closed. In one smooth movement he hoisted you up into his arms and turned to place you on a set of drawers where you hit a glass key dish. It fell to the ground with a crash and off in the dark apartment a surprised cat yelped. You let out a giggle, holding onto Aizawa’s head as you pulled away to laugh. His head fell to your chest as he finished off the buttons on his shirt, shedding it and laughed with you. “You good?”

You nodded and pulled his face back to yours. He began working on your dress, the zipper on the back gave way under his surprisingly steady hands. In one swift movement he scooped you up and slid the rest of the dress from your body and placed you back down, this time careful to mind any stray key dishes. His hand ran along the wall looking for the light switch. The entrance to the apartment lit up with a dim amber light, his hair was mussed and his cheeks red, one of your love marks already bruising nicely against the pale skin of his throat.

You realized that you were nearly completely naked save the thong. Under any other circumstance you would have been mortified and scrambling for cover but given the alcohol and the way he was looking at you right now, you let the moment exist. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

“Pants.” You whispered back. “Off.”

He chuckled and obliged, dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

“Okay, sex now.” He huffed as he grabbed you by the waist and carried you into the barely illuminated living room.

He dropped you on the couch unceremoniously and manhandled you into position until you were sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders and his strong hands grasping at your thigh and breast. He trailed kisses up your thigh, his fingers hooking around your panties and tugging them down your legs. His hands left your body briefly, warm air hitting your face as your thong whipped past your head and over the couch. His hands gripped your thighs tight, holding them in place on his shoulders and he ducked down and began his work.

At first it was slow, tentative, almost shy. Then he found the spot, the spot that made you shiver and clench your thighs. You felt his scruff rub against your sensitive skin as he grinned, his grip tightening, and you began to squirm. He lapped at your clit, slow then fast, nipping when your squirming seemed to slow, keeping the knot in your gut swelling with every move. You moaned and dug your hand into his wild hair, the soft curls swallowing your fingers. You held him closer, practically begging him not to stop.

The knot in your stomach swelled until your thighs shook and your breath came out in quivering waves. You wanted him to fuck you so badly that the thought of cumming now felt like treason. You pushed against his head, yet he was unyielding in his assault on your core.

“Fuck.” You breathed, trying to delay the inevitable. “Sho, fuck me already.”

He pulled back, his hand replacing his tongue. “Not until you cum first.”

“N-no, please. Fuck me.” You begged, the knot tightening impossibly.

“I’m drunk.” He huffed, his breath washing over your already hot core. “Once I cum I cannot be held responsible if I fucking pass out. Now hold still so I can give you a birthday present!”

He dove back into your core, this time renewed with an almost aggressive approach, not that you were complaining. Your hands tighten in his curls and you gave in to him, everything he was building up to until you were rocking into his mouth and mewling like a cat in heat. He slipped in two fingers, your slick greedy vagina gladly accepted them. You felt him curse against you, no doubt the warm wet feeling of you wrapped around his fingers a siren’s call straight to his dick.

He pumped in and out, his tongue never yielding until finally the knot in your stomach released and a wave euphoria and shiver racked your body, your legs and arms twitching as your body felt as if it was floating.He helped you ride your high, adding another finger and whispering a cacophony of dirty words in your ear. You gripped his shoulders as you came back to yourself, he was covered in a thin layer of sweat and his scent wafted in painfully alluring waved towards you.

He lifted your weak legs and folded them into your chest, his boxers now discarded along with your lace panties, tossed into the dark abyss of the apartment. He placed a hot kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose then to your lips. There he stayed as he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed forward. He was girthy and stretched you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“Breathe.” He pulled back, looking into your eyes. You hadn’t noticed you’d been holding your breath until now and let out the breath you were keeping locked away in your chest. Your body melted into the couch, forming to fit him perfectly as you relaxed. Again, he started slow, setting a pace while he figured out what felt right. He must have found the jackpot because suddenly his pace picked up, his breath hot on your neck. You felt a familiar knot, loosely forming in your stomach, your nerves still buzzing from your previous orgasms.

Aizawa reached forward, his hands finding your breasts as he leaned down into you. You were pressed back further into the couch as he drilled into you, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the dark. With each thrust the knot in your stomach tugged on itself, tightening. Aizawa paused, adjusting himself at your entrance before thrusting forward, stars shooting across your vision as a hot wave rattled through you. You’re mewls grew to yelps and gasps with every thrust, his grunts starting to match your love sounds.

You could feel yourself starting to shake, the tension in your gut almost too much to take, when he began to get sloppy. Every thrust became an endeavor as he struggled to find a pace he could keep while slowly coming undone. His hands slid down to the couch, gripping the fabric like he was going to be whisked away at any moment.

“Fuck.” He cursed; his body twitching out of rhythm.

You grabbed each side of his face and looked him in the eyes, pools of deep lust consuming your vision. You pulled him close, suddenly craving his lips on yours. He mirrored your urgency and soon his pace evened out, each thrust stronger and faster than the last. You felt yourself clenching around him, your legs locked at his shoulders.

He pressed his head against yours pulling out of the kiss so he could look into your eyes as he came. He drilled into you until your yelps turned into a silent scream of pleasure as the knot in your gut burst for a second time that night. With a final, strong thrust warmth spread through you as he leaned into you, his uneven breaths washing over your skin.

He slid down to his elbows as he rode out his own orgasm, his lips brushing your collar bone as he muttered sweet nothings to you.You twitched beneath him, stars and black spots dancing in your periphery. Your legs slipped off his shoulders and found rest at his hip, the two of you sweating and panting in the sweet afterglow of sloppy drunk sex.

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The rays of sun that broke through the blinds berated your eyes, the searing white light like a smite from god with the hangover you were about the nurse. Groaning against the light you reached over to your bedside table for the bottle of water you put there before leaving for the night. Your hand stopped short at a wall of plush and springy fabric…like the back of a couch. Your eyes shot open, bright hot sunlight filling your vision. You groaned and scrambled backwards out of the light’s reach, kicking something on your way back.

“Fuck!” You knew that voice.

You blinked away the retina burns, and your stomach dropped. At your feet a very sleepy and very naked Aizawa was lying on his front, his arms folded under his head.

“Sorry!” you chirped; realizing it was him you had just kicked. “D-did we-”

Aizawa looked up at you, at first he seemed just as dazed and confused as you did but then a sly grin spread across his face. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You looked down at yourself, realizing you too were very naked. You pulled your legs up to cover as much as you could and wrapped your arms around your chest. “Do you…remember any of-”

“Not at all.” He grumbled, sitting himself up and grabbing a pillow from the ground to cover his junk. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

You squinted into the distance, calling on fuzzy memories of fluorescent cocktails and straying hands. You could feel your cheeks heating up. “Your hand up my skirt.”

“Was that-”

“My idea? Yep.” You recalled.

“Oh.” He nodded to himself. “Good.”

You both sat in silence staring at each other. A long-haired white cat leapt up onto the couch and rubbed its body up against your shins, begging for affection.

“Did you want to shower? I have some sweats you can-”

“Yeah, thanks!” you interrupted and jumped up, painfully aware of how very vey naked you were. You dashed towards the first door you saw.

“That’s my room, Bathroom’s down the hall.” You could feel him smirking at you.

“Right!” you said as you turned and strutted down the hall.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #reader x bnha #reader x aizawa #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #mha #mha x reader #reader insert #reader insert mha #reader insert bnha #my hero #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction

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ariadnekurosaki · 4 years

Text

Snowdrops and Strawberry Flowers

Prompt: IchiRuki Week Day 6, emotional motion sickness/I can’t seem to drown you out

Rating: T

Read on AO3.

Snowdrops and Strawberry Flowers

Rukia’s cough starts nine weeks after Ichigo loses the last of his powers and watches her vanish from his sight. Shinigami aren’t really supposed to get sick, she thinks – her Captain being a glaring exception to the rule. It starts as a tickle in her throat, a tingling that won’t quite go away. She adds honey and lemon to her tea to soothe the irritation and drinks it by the potful as she studies for the lieutenants’ examination.

She dreams, sometimes, of Ichigo. Of amber-brown eyes and strong hands, of bright orange hair that always falls into his face. Rukia dreams of the moment she could no longer see herself in his eyes and the moment he turned away, walking back into his house.

The tickle in her throat becomes a cough that just won’t stop. Soon, Rukia gains a reputation within the division for her newfound addiction to tea. There is always a fresh pot on her desk as she studies, and her teacup is always full. The tea soothes her throat only momentarily, and Rukia takes to carrying a small, white handkerchief to cough into and stifle the noise.

The first time Captain Ukitake catches her, she is at a desk in the Thirteenth Division, with papers piled high around her and a tea tray at her elbow. “Rukia, are you well?” His voice startles Rukia and she raises her head from coughing into her ever-present handkerchief. The man’s expression is one of gentle worry, and he glances meaningfully at the many empty cups on her desk. “You’ve been coughing more and more often.”

She flushes brightly. “Ah, my apologies, Captain. The dust from my study guides is troubling me.” Rukia gestures at the papers piled on her desk. Some of the guides are quite old, and they really are awfully dusty.

Ukitake frowns gently and pats her lightly on the shoulder. “Well, be sure to get some fresh air. I know you have plenty of tea.” He gives a cough of his own and then sweeps away, haori billowing behind him.

Rukia opens the hand clutching her handkerchief. Nestled inside the fabric is a single white petal. It must be from the tea, she thinks, but the brew is merely a middling hojicha, and when she opens the pot the mesh basket shows no evidence of flower petals. Still, she puts it out of her mind and focuses on her studies.

The coughing gets worse, and there is almost always a flower petal or two, or three, or four coming from her mouth. Rukia barely contains it, even as she is officially named Lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division and Ukitake proudly ties the badge around her bicep for the first time. She thinks: Ichigo would have been proud of me. And then she thinks Ichigo deserves a normal life, and all I have ever done is ruined that for him. When she leaves the assembly hall in which her investiture ceremony was held, Rukia coughs up a handful of flower petals, white and crumpled in her hands.

Still, there is so much work to be done. The division hasn’t had a lieutenant in five decades, after all. Rukia claims the lieutenant’s desk for her own and soon it is covered in paperwork and chappy merchandise – and cups of tea. Some of the chappies are the ones that Ichigo purchased for her. Those she treasures most of all, though she remembers his resentment when he had to fork over his human world yen for them.

“C-captain! Lieutenant!” Rukia tries to stifle her coughing as Sentarou and Kiyone run into the office she shares with Ukitake. She and her captain are both mid-coughing fit; it sounds a little ridiculous, she thinks even as she coughs up a few more white petals. They are flecked with blood, a new and concerning development.

“I’ll get tea for the Captain!” Sentarou announces.

“No, I’ll get tea for the Captain. And for Rukia!” Kiyone protests.

Rukia exchanges a look with Ukitake, whose face has drained of all color as he looks at her.

“Tea would be very helpful, thank you both,” Ukitake rasps and coughs into his handkerchief again. When the third seats have departed, he turns his attention to Rukia. “Those are flower petals,” he says, and although there is no accusation in his voice Rukia flinches.

“They must have been in my tea,” Rukia fibs.

Ukitake’s eyes narrow at her and he glances at the crumpled handkerchief in her hand. “You know that you can tell me anything and I will listen, Rukia,” he says gently.

Rukia’s lips part, on the verge of confessing her worry, but Kiyone and Sentarou rush in with tea trays in hand.

“I’ll serve Captain Ukitake!”

“No I’ll do it!”

And Rukia closes her mouth and smiles at Kiyone as she pours the tea. Ukitake merely looks on, eyes ineffably old and sad. When she asks for time off to allow Orihime to visit, he grants it readily but there is something else in his eyes that Rukia tries not to see.

“The flowers are so beautiful!” Orihime says a few days later as they walk through the Thirteenth Division training grounds.

Rukia tries her best to keep her coughing under control and keeps as cheerful a smile as she can manage on her face while they view the flowers and chat with Shinji. It works until Orihime turns to Rukia and says, “Kuchiki-san, I’m so worried about Kurosaki-kun. He’s so withdrawn and sad all the time! And Yuzu-chan says he isn’t eating the way he should be!”

Before Rukia can say anything she explodes into a coughing fit, barely managing to cover it with a handkerchief in time. Strangely, Orihime bursts into tears at the same time, streaks of saltwater running down her face and great sobs heaving from her chest. It’s so puzzling that when Rukia gets her coughing under control she asks gently, “Isn’t he happy, living a normal life?”

But Orihime shakes her head even as she keeps crying, and flings herself on Rukia. “I wanted him to be! I was so happy that he wouldn’t be in danger anymore and we could be normal together,” she cries. The words make Rukia blink even as she pats the girl gently on her back.

Normal together? But she still has her flowers, she thinks. “I’m sure it’s been an adjustment,” Rukia prevaricates.

“He’s – not the same at all,” Orihime sobs. “And I just don’t know what to do!”

Neither does Rukia, so she does her best to comfort her friend. But the knowledge that Ichigo is clearly not doing well stays with her long after Orihime leaves. She doesn’t notice the way Orihime notices her coughing, or realize that she has caught a glimpse of the white petals coated in blood.

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Ichigo’s cough starts a week after Rukia disappears in front of him, along with the last of his shinigami powers. He blames it on a winter cold. Yuzu brings tea to his room when she hears him coughing, and Ichigo drinks it to ease the scratchy feeling in his throat. When the cough lingers into the spring and summer, he calls it allergies and then a summer cold. Never mind that he never has so much as a sniffle to accompany the coughing.

Cough syrup doesn’t seem to touch it, and his teachers eventually give him blanket permission to use cough drops in class. As a result, there’s always a lingering scent of menthol and honey around Ichigo. He watches Uryuu, Chad, and Orihime run off to deal with hollows the way he used to, and tries to ignore the ache in his chest that brings up.

Goat-Chin examines him early on and finds nothing wrong with his son except a case of “teenage angst”, as he calls it, ignoring the fact that Ichigo used to be an extraordinarily powerful shinigami and is now just an ordinary teenager. He threatens to send Ichigo off for allergy testing, but Ichigo just shrugs and tells him to do what he wants. When he leaves his father’s clinic, he doesn’t notice how serious his old man looks, face shadowed and somber under the glare of the lights.

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun, isn’t it a lovely day out? Would you like to take a walk with me?” Orihime asks, voice high and hopeful during their lunch time.

Ichigo just looks out the window. “No thanks,” he says. “I think it’ll make my allergies worse.” Because that’s all the cough is – an allergic reaction to something.

At night he dreams of Rukia, of her voice calling his name and her body dancing close to his in battle, Sode no Shirayuki gleaming white and sending blasts of ice at her enemies. He dreams of that moment in Hueco Mundo when he caught her in mid-fall, facing off against Yammy to protect her.

Ichigo. Ichigo, we live in two different worlds. This can’t happen, she tells him one night in a dream. The next morning is the first day he coughs up petals, narrow and snowy white as they land in his palm. He must have inhaled them at some point, he thinks, although they don’t look mangled enough for that. Maybe now that they’re gone, he won’t cough anymore.

He’s utterly, completely wrong.

Time passes, somehow both fast and slow. Ichigo’s birthday passes by nearly unremarked by his own choice: he picks at his birthday dinner, eating only enough in between coughing fits to spare Yuzu’s feelings. He ignores the gifts his family gives him.

Soon it has been a year. Ichigo’s coughing just gets worse and worse, and one morning in class he coughs so hard that he brings up something new: an entire, bloodied snowdrop. He doesn’t hide it quickly enough; his teacher and classmates are staring at him. Orihime’s crying, big, fat tears dripping down her cheeks. Uryuu just stares behind his glasses.

“Would you like to go to the nurse?” the teacher asks. Ichigo just shakes his head and coughs again.

“Sorry, sensei,” he apologizes in a low tone. He doesn’t even look up when Orihime and Uryuu run from the classroom a few minutes later. He’s seen Orihime with her phone, one that looks like Rukia’s denreishinki and – this time, when he coughs, he brings up only bright red blood.

That night when he dreams of her she is coughing too, blood spattering red down the front of a white yukata just like the one she wore before her near-execution. It doesn’t make any sense, but there’s a strawberry flower in Rukia’s hands.

When Ichigo coughs up another three perfect, bloodied snowdrops, one of them in front of his father, Isshin forces him into the clinic’s x-ray machine.

He’s sheet-white when he looks at the resulting film. “Hanahaki,” Isshin says roughly. “You have – you have snowdrops growing in your lungs, son.”

Ichigo scrubs at the back of his neck with one hand, and tries to hold in a cough. “Isn’t that a thing that boys in bad manga get?” He tries for a sneer, but just coughs blood and petals into a white tissue.

Isshin’s expression is grave as he sits across from his son. “I saw a case of it…once. You’re in love with Rukia, aren’t you?” he asks.

He wants to deny it. Wants to say, With that midget? Are you joking? But instead all that comes out is a low, “Yeah.”

“There’s nothing I can give you for it,” his father says. He looks old, suddenly. Much more than he ever has before.

“So, what then?” Ichigo asks.

But Isshin says, “There isn’t anything I can do.”

-------

“Rukia! Lieutenant, we need to get you to the Fourth,” Kiyone exclaims over Rukia’s coughing fit. Though she tries to shake her head, she can’t get enough air into her lungs to do anything but hack up petals and entire flowers. She swears there’s even a strawberry amidst the mess, but everything is covered in her blood.

“I’m –”

“You’re not fine, Lieutenant,” Sentarou cuts in. He summons a hell butterfly with a thought and sends it winging toward the Fourth Division. “I’ve let them know we’re coming. Climb on,” he says, surprisingly gentle.

But Rukia reels back from him, thinking of being carried on Ichigo’s back so many months ago, of feeling him strong beneath her as he ran along rooftops to find and destroy a hollow. It sparks another coughing fit of white petals and red blood, and before she can protest Sentarou and Kiyone – so often fighting – pick her up between them and take off at a run, one holding her under her arms and the other beneath her legs. It’s not the same – thankfully – as being carried by Ichigo. But it’s damned uncomfortable, and she’s grateful that the pathetic display only lasts a few minutes, until they’ve bundled her into the Fourth and practically shoved her at Isane.

And when Isane watches her struggle to her feet as she coughs up strawberry flowers there is so much pity in her eyes that Rukia doesn’t protest when she is led to a private room. “How long have you been coughing up flowers, Lieutenant Kuchiki?” Isane asks when the door is closed and they are alone.

Rukia’s cheeks flush and pale by turns. “Months,” she finally admits as she allows Isane to listen to her heart and lungs, to peer into her mouth.

“Strawberry flowers,” the other woman observes calmly. “I’m going to conduct some additional tests, Kuchiki-san. They won’t hurt.”

The tests themselves don’t hurt, but Rukia has coughed herself raw by the time they are done and Isane’s limpid eyes are looking at her again. She brings tea and Rukia gulps it down eagerly to soothe her throat, heedless of any kind of propriety. “Well?” she asks finally.

“You already know what you have, Kuchiki-san,” Isane says gently. “Hanahaki Disease. And it’s quite advanced – the flowers are embedded extensively in your lungs. You are lucky that strawberry plants are small and don’t have hard branches.”

She did already know – but the words still steal the breath from Rukia’s lungs. Hanahaki. The disease of unrequited love. Ichigo doesn’t love her. But she has already made promises; has already spoken to Urahara. Even if all that sits between them is friendship, she won’t go back on her promise to restore Ichigo’s powers by any means necessary. “Is there anything that can be done?” Rukia asks quietly.

“I’m sorry, Kuchiki-san. There is only one cure for Hanahaki: being loved in return.”

-----------

Seventeen months after Ichigo loses his powers, he meets the Fullbringers and thinks: maybe they have the answers. Soon he has power again. It’s a strange power, brought forth when he holds the useless substitute badge and thinks of Rukia. Or maybe it isn’t that strange; after all, the angry redhead named Riruka has told him that fullbring is a power of love.

And then it all falls apart again. Tsukishima has somehow wormed his way into everyone’s lives as Ichigo’s “cousin”. Uryuu gets hurt. And on a rainy night, Ginjo steals Ichigo’s fullbring powers and leaves him kneeling on the ground, powerless as he coughs up entire stalks of snowdrops, screaming through a throat ripped raw, “Give me back my powers, Ginjo!”

He should have expected this last betrayal: a sword stabbing him in the back through his chest, a point of blinding pain amid the pain of lungs tired from growing flowers, amid the pain of a heart that beats for a dead woman.

When he turns his head, body held captive by the glowing blue blade, Kisuke and his father are there. “You too?” he asks, through a sob.

But: “You should be able to see her now,” Isshin says.

And then she’s there, reappearing in his eyes: standing behind him, hands on the hilt of a sword of pure blue light. In the darkness Rukia is pale, hair short and eyes big in a slender face. “Rukia,” he whispers.

Then power explodes outwards from the sword in his chest, swirling around him like a tornado, and when Ichigo can see again he is wearing a shihakusho once more. There is something new: black markings cover the backs of his hands and Zangetsu is shorter and wider than it was. Tsukishima and Ginjo are staring at him, but Ichigo has eyes only for Rukia – Rukia, who drops the glowing blue sword, bends over double, and coughs violently until bloodied flowers land in her hands.

He sticks Zangetsu in the ground and he’s in front of her without thinking about it. The fullbringers still need to be dealt with, but. But he’s staring at her and at the strawberry flowers in her palms. “You have Hanahaki,” Ichigo says hoarsely. The rain is dying down, but droplets of water wash Rukia’s blood from the flowers.

“It’s nothing. What about you? I turn my back and you’ve gotten pathetic,” Rukia protests, and lifts her hand to hit him over the head.

Ichigo’s hand on her wrist stops her. “It’s not nothing,” he says, and his other hand opens, revealing the bloodied snowdrop.

“Oh,” she whispers.

“Oh,” Ichigo agrees. For the shape of the flower is mimicked on Rukia’s lieutenant’s badge – a promotion he didn’t know about.

“Ichigo.” Her voice is soft, though hoarse from coughing. Their eyes meet, wide and dark as the rain stops.

“Rukia.” His hand is still on her wrist, but it slides to twine their fingers together. The silk of her tekko is soft against his skin, a contrast to the calluses on her fingers.

“Yes.” They don’t kiss – they don’t even speak the words. But Ichigo can breathe easier all of a sudden, and he senses the moment that she can too. And he thinks that he won’t cough up snowdrops anymore. And that she won’t choke on strawberry flowers.

Later, when Ginjo and Tsukishima are dead and Ichigo and Rukia are both in Soul Society again, Isane examines them. “You will both make a full recovery,” she pronounces when she has performed diagnostic kido and listened to their lungs. “There is no trace of Hanahaki Disease in either of you, and the kido I have performed will heal the damage to your lungs.” Then she looks at them both, and says quietly, “I’m so glad.” With a smile on her face she dismisses them, and Ichigo’s fingers twine with Rukia’s again as they leave the relief station.

“Rukia,” he says quietly, and she turns to him. Their eyes meet before their lips do, and they share a soft kiss beneath the sunlight. There will be complications: she has a job to do here in the Seireitei and he is still seventeen and in his final year of high school. But for just a moment they breathe each other’s air, free of snowdrops and strawberry flowers for the first time in seventeen months.

#ichiruki #irweek2020 #ichigo x rukia #bleach fanfiction #angst #hanahaki

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bates--boy · 3 years

Text

Of all the Christmas and birthday mornings Peter has woken up to as a child, with the innocent glee that made the heart swell and the face light up and life a little less shitty, none of them felt like this. This was special.

(Then again, anything was special compared to bleak mornings with hardship to look forward to after the unwrapping of occasional gifts.)

Even the car ride made him feel lively, a building up of anticipation as Naseem explained to him what the plan for the next couple hours were, and why was it that when Adel sent a text asking specifically whether or not Nne Nne Binta was visiting and Naseem said yes, Adel replied with: “Yeeeesssssss! 😍 🥥 🥰 ✨ 🍖 🧄 🥦 ⭐️.” Apparently, Nne Nne Obinna’s food was magic.

Could it be as magical as the mere thought of ripping open those plain mailing boxes and tearing through the bubble wrap or kraft mesh? Peter didn’t think so, but he kept that to himself as he and Naseem, and Mike as well, eased onto a curb in front of a brownstone home. Naseem and Mike led the way inside, oblivious to the 100-kilowatt grin and kitten-like spark in Peter’s eyes. From the couch, Tarsha and an unfamiliar young woman looked up from the phone they were watching. The unfamiliar woman handed the phone to Tarsha and hopped out of her seat, rushing over to Naseem and leaping into his arms.

“Nazzeeeee!”

“Adiiiiiiiie!” Naseem cheered back. “How’s the bestest baby sister in the entire galaxy been?”

“Adiiiiiiiie” pulled away from the hug, a grin stretching from one multi-pierced ear to another. “Butter me up all you want, you’re still paying me for my services. And I’ve been good! How’s family life? Oh! Do you have any pics of my babies?”

“I’ll send you something when I get the chance. You know how Ashira is. Oh!” Naseem half turned to Peter. “Adie, this is Peter. Pete, this is my baby sister, Adizue, but we call her Adie.”

Well, Peter could have easily guessed that they were siblings; besides the heart-shaped face compared to Naseem’s angular jawline, they looked remarkably alike, far too alike than non-twin siblings were allowed. Peter held out a hand for her to shake, but Adizue trapped Peter in her arms with just as much sisterly gusto as she gave Naseem.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Peter!” Adie hummed.

Though a tad thrown off by the exuberance, Peter didn’t miss a beat and reciprocated. “And I you, Miss Adie!”

Adie pulled away with a somehow even wider grin, and Peter had a moment of fear that her jaw might come apart and plop to the floor. “Oh, my god! Your accent! Are you British! That’s so charming! That’s so whimsical!”

Peter gave a chuckle and a half-hearted head shake. “It’s really not...”

“Oh, god, I absolutely adored Duchess Markle and Prince Harry! It was so beautiful, like right out of a fairytale, you know? I wish I could get married like that! Except for all the bad stuff that happened to them after. Have you seen the Oprah interview?”

“Ahem,” Mike said from Naseem’s other side, and held out his arms.

“Oh, my god, Mike!” Adie launched herself into Mike’s arms, too, and they shared a giggle fit. “How’s my other child? She’s still doing good at school, right? Did you find a good tutor for her?”

“Yeah, she’s good. Thank goodness we found out about that dyslexia early on. Oh, hey, do you mind getting the box cutter? We’re getting ready to handle business.”

“That’s so weird how you said that!” But nonetheless, Adie skipped off after getting a pat on the back from Mike.

Watching Adie disappear into the hall, Naseem said, ‘Sorry about that. She has a crush on this British expat at her school.”

Peter covered his fingertips over his mouth. “Awww, young love!”

“Yeah, except the guy’s a teacher, so he better not try shit on her,” Naseem grumbled in what Peter couldn’t tell was a playful overprotective brother act. Again, he wasn’t paying much attention to Peter’s face, so he missed the awkward grimace Peter made. He craned his neck back, cupped one side of his mouth, and called out, “Maaaaaaaa, where are ya?!”

“Stop all that yelling in my house or I’ll get the sandal, my dear boy!” called back yet another, older female voice. A man laughed after; Peter can’t remember the last time he’s heard Adel laughed -- if at all -- but he was sure that was Adel hidden away somewhere.

Naseem lowered his hand and shook his head. “Right in front of my friends...”

After Naseem gestured to Peter to have a seat and Adie flounced back into the living room with the box cutters, the group went over their new merchandise and how they were going to get sales going when the kitchen door swung open. Adel held the door open for two other women, another young woman gracing the room like an angel, with a hunched over and stoic old oak tree of a woman shuffling after her. Peter waited for Naseem’s mother to come out next, until he felt his world shake when Naseem wrapped his arms around the younger woman’s shoulder, kissed her on the cheek, and said with sing-songy sweetness, “Hi, Mamaaaa....”

“Hi, baby!” this woman, Naseem’s mom, cooed back, completely unaware of how her son’s new friend was frantically looking for gray hairs or crow’s feet packed in with some unholy amount of foundation because he was already breaking the “don’t-find-your-friend’s-mom-hot” code that guided friendships old as time or newly bloomed. Okay, Pete, focus on the task today focus on the task today, focusonthetask--

“And this is my great-grandmother, Obinna!”

Naseem’s tragically angelic mother moved aside to let her grandmother come in for a hug. Peter had to curl his body down in order to wrap his arms around the woman. The whiff of her smoky castor and shea oils tickled Peter’s nose, and he found momentary relief in her arms as she rubbed them up and down his back and...

“Oh! Um--”

Up and down his back, and her weathered hands patting all over Peter’s back and waist and hips. finding their way up his arms.

Her hands stopped on Peter’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length when she ended the hug. Her eyes, dark pools with all the life and energy of a child, heavy-lidded with wrinkles, scanned Peter up and down. Obinna then turned away, shaking her head; over the soft giggles of Adie and Mike, Peter could hear the old woman cluck her tongue.

Peter still watched after her, even as she disappeared behind the kitchen door. “Uh... what was that?”

“Oh,” Naseem said, his voice creeping close to a laugh, “she’s gonna feed you, now.”

And they didn’t see the mortification and embarrassment that rolled in Peter’s stomach; they couldn’t possibly know why his cheeks started to burn and he hugged his arms to his body. Adel came up to Peter’s side and clapped him between his shoulders. “You’re so lucky you get to try Obinna’s food for the first time,” he cooed.

#life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )#The MizFists

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neighborhoodmoonchild · 5 years

Text

I Feel For You (Werewolf!Jungkook x Empath!Reader)

Genre: Supernatural Au, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language, violence, mentions of blood, injuries

Word Count: 6K

Your friend's party was the first time you’d seen him since you were kids. His hair had grown significantly since then, falling across his face in soft wisps he has to continuously blow out of his eyes. His eyes. They were the same as they were before, dark as night but would glisten in any lighting, like the moon across the lake.

You hadn’t spoken to him in a decade, convinced he must’ve been a figment of your imagination, but the reality of it was that you were just from two different worlds that would never mesh.

You’d only said two words to him that night, when you were both just barely out of booster seats, and you’d wandered too far back in the woods behind your house without your mother noticing.

Back then he was just a little brown haired boy with brown eyes that seemed to shift as he bared his teeth. You’d been the little girl with pigtails wiping her wet eyes with her dirty hands as she tried to push herself up off the ground.

“Please don’t.”

And he’d thought you were afraid of him hurting you. He was shaking in the trap, blood seeping down his leg, teeth bared in defense, and he thought this little girl was scared this monster would eat her. He’d never know you were trying to help him and yourself.

You thought maybe you’d go over, see if he recognized you, see if he remembered you. But as the DJ cranked the music louder, a group of guys started a fistfight, and a searing pain shot through your jaw, blood pooling in your mouth despite you standing perfectly still by yourself in the corner, you ducked out before it could escalate and made your way home, spitting blood and hoping nobody saw.

—

“Can’t I just skip? I think I might be coming down with something, you know?” Jungkook pleads, grabbing his mother’s hand to rest against his forehead. It was warm, but nothing out of the ordinary, especially for a wolf, and he knew she knows that.

She humored him anyways, flipping her hand over a few times with a puzzled look on her face. After a second, she stood up and began walking towards the bathroom.

“You know what, let me get the thermometer.” Her face broke into a sly grin, knowing fully well that her son knew the only thermometer they had was not for the mouth.

Suddenly, he’s flying past her, tugging on his backpack and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, “You know what, I’m suddenly feeling a lot better! I’ll see you when I get home.” He takes the stairs three at a time and bolts into the kitchen, ignoring his brothers stuffing their faces and taking their sweet time, nothing to worry about being late to, besides ‘work’ with their father.

Jungkook is the last of 7 boys born to his mother and father. His eldest brothers, Jin, Yoongi, and Namjoon, were all home-schooled by their mother before Jungkook was even thought of. Once they were done, they took their places on the Pack Council with their father.

Hobi, Jimin, and Tae had gone to the “pack school” which was basically homeschooling with all the kids in the pack by a few select pack members. By the time Jungkook came into the picture, not only did the pack accept the idea of sending their children to human school to avoid suspicion, his mother was so worn out she just didn’t have the energy to educate Kook on her own.

In her defense, Jungkook was a lot more hyper and wild then his siblings, and being the last meant her sanity was at the edge after the first 6.

Jungkook didn’t mind, though, he was fascinated by human nature, everything that made their society so different from his, and he made it his mission to learn and experience as much as he could about both. At least, it started out that way.

As Jungkook grew, so did his wolf. It was harder for him to control his animalistic tendencies, and it was worse when he had to keep it all hidden to avoid exposing his pack’s secret and causing an all-out witch hunt.

Instead, he chose to push all of his wolf qualities, along with some of his human ones, deep down and lay low. It was easier to protect himself and his family that way. Don’t bring attention, don’t make friends, just go to class and come home.

And after a while, it got a hell of a lot easier. People stopped coming up to him, trying to talk to him, hell, even teachers didn’t call on him anymore. Instead, all he’d get was the occasional wary stare and a few whispers, but that was about it.

It hurt him to have people think terrible things about him, but it’s not like he could tell them the truth. So, for now, he’d let people believe whatever they wanted about him, from mute kid who cut out his own tongue to a deranged psychopath who writes stories about how he’d murder his classmates (yes, those are real rumors he’s heard float through the hallways. Humans and their imaginations).

As long as he was here and his secret was safe, it didn’t matter what others thought of him.

Jungkook made it through the first for periods just he always had. Aside from getting a surprised look from his Algebra teacher for acing his last test, it was like every other day.

Then it lunch rolled around.

He made his way to his usual table out in the quad, far from everyone else and sat alone. He liked being able to enjoy his meal in peace, watching everyone around him.

Today, his peace gets interrupted not even ten minutes in.

You watched Jungkook sit down at the same table he always has. Seeing him in the daylight instead of the strobes at the party made him easier to study. He wore the same black sweatshirt and pants he does every day and he looks the same as he did Saturday night.

“Why are you staring at him, got a crush or something?” Your friend nudges you, sending the whole table into a fit of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs.’

You just roll your eyes, keeping your attention focused on the boy across the quad. You’d never told your friends about what happened years ago, considering it wasn’t any of their business anyways. They hadn’t even acknowledged his existence until they saw him at the party that night, wondering why he’d bothered to show up.

You didn’t know he went to school with you, let alone that your friends knew him, well, knew of him. It was that night, when you’d asked them who he was, that they’d relayed horrid gossip about him.

Knowing just how insane high school ppl gossip can be, you took every new piece of information about him with a grain of salt. It was that night you learned his name, Jungkook.

Unfortunately, that was the only useful information they had on him, so you figured if you wanted answers, you’d have to go to the source.

You’d have to talk to him.

Without even thinking, you rise from your spot at the table, stepping over the seat and heading towards him. You could hear the whispered screams of your friends, obviously confused and concerned with your rash actions, but you just blocked them out.

Your path to his table felt like a million miles, as if you were on trial, with all eyes on you. You’d somewhat made a name for yourself here, part of the ‘popular’ clique on campus, but you didn’t see yourself that way. It was just your nature to be friendly with others. You could sympathize easily, share and understand, most importantly, you listened, and people liked that.

You rose the social ladder without even realizing it, and soon you were the talk of the school. Everyone wanted to be friends with you, but the socially elite students had already claimed you as theirs and you were too polite to turn them down.

So, as you made your way to Jungkook, you could feel the judgment each student passed on you with each step. It was like slowly being suffocated, each state and new set of hands around your neck.

Sometimes high school is just too much.

You didn’t care though; you’d happily dig your own social grave if it meant finally getting answers from the boy in the woods.

Jungkook can sense you staring at him from across the way, but ignores it. He used to the stares so he figures it’s harmless. It’s when the hairs on the back of his neck stand as his wolf sense you approaching him that catches his attention and drags him from his protest.

Jungkook doesn’t look up to see who’s there up until you’re standing across the table from him.

When he does, something deep down open side of him recognizes those eyes, your eyes.

“Mind if I sit?” You ask sweetly, giving him a smile. He just stares at you dumbfounded, not sure what to say, so he just slowly nods his head once.

You set your bag down next to you and rest your arms on the surface of the table. Jungkook ignores his lunch, frozen staring at you. This had never happened before, not even his first year. People didn’t just approach others and sit at tables they didn’t belong. There was a system, a hierarchy, and everyone had their place.

This was not yours.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you stick your hand out across the table, expecting him to take it, but he just stares at it.

“This is usually the part where you shake my hand,” you try not to smirk but it’s hard when he looks like he’s never seen a hand before.

He hesitantly takes it in his, “Jungkook.”

He’s hoping this will suffice whatever curiosity you’re harboring towards him and you’ll leave him in peace. Jungkook thinks this is his punishment for going to that stupid party on Saturday when his father told him he couldn’t go. He wasn’t there for long, but he just wanted to say he went to at least one high school party in his life.

Now he thinks people might have gotten the wrong idea and that it was okay to hang out with him. He’d just have to let you down as easily as possible.

“No offense, but don’t you have friends to sit with?,” he gestures behind you to the table you’d left, your friends awkwardly watching, laughing and whispering. You didn’t bother to look back, just kept your focus ahead, ignoring what you knew was gossip behind you. You loved your friends, of course, but they have awful habits.

“I do, I just figured you’d like some company.”

He doesn’t mean to, but he scoffs, his wolf annoyed that someone was pitying him.

You see it but don’t take it too seriously, sensing he was just uncomfortable with your unwarranted presence.

“I’m fine, you can go now.” You don’t want to leave yet, though, hoping to break through this icy exterior and find out what’s underneath. You can feel it in the deepest depths of your soul that he’s hiding something, holding himself back, and you know it has to do with that night 10 years ago.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d actually like to stay,” you gesture back behind you subtly, “besides, they can be a bit much sometimes.” You hoped to ease the tension and find some common ground with him, but his wall is strong.

“I’d actually prefer to eat alone,” one part of him is screaming at himself for how cold he’s being. This was a chance to make a connection, maybe make a friend, but the other half is rationalizing that if he lets you in, you’ll ruin everything he’s spent so long protecting.

His mood affects you, the agitation cutting through your usually bubbly aura. You couldn’t help how easily influenced you were by the feelings and emotions of others. You were born to feel what others felt; their happiness, love, frustration, and pain.

“Why do you insist on cutting yourself off from everyone?” It’s an intrusive question, one a stranger should not ask and did not have the right to know. You couldn’t take it back once it flew from your mouth, though. Speaking before thinking was also an affliction you’d been graced with, one you had spent years trying to correct to no avail.

His wolf wants to snap, confronting his features into a deep set scowl, his eyes dark.

“Why do you pretend to be friends with people you don’t like?” It wasn’t fair of him to attack you, but your insistence on prying into his life was wearing his patience thin.

The human part of him regrets the blow when he sees your features, clearly taken aback.

“I’m not pretending, I do like them, just not all the time, no one can like everyone all the time.” You wanted to snap back at him but you kept your calm. It was fair in a way to ask such a question after yours.

Jungkook wolf isn’t satisfied yet, though so he sinks a lower blow, “And why do you always run away when they start shit?”

The guys in your friend group were notorious for picking fights, hyped up on testosterone and privilege. You didn’t think anyone had noticed your disappearing act during such events, but clearly you weren’t as sneaky as you’d thought. You didn’t have a choice though, considering how would you explain when similar wounds appeared on your body as they happened?

You became defensive on instinct, feeling like prey stalked by a predator. You were just trying to be civil and his whole demeanor became a shield to protect himself and retaliate against you.

“I guess we both have secrets then, huh.” You get up, walking past your table, your friends following you with their eyes, shooting back to Jungkook once you were out of sight.

At first he didn’t understand why you reacted so harshly to his questions, figuring they weren’t serious. Turns out you may be just as cut off as Jungkook, you’re just better at faking it.

—

You’d ignored your friends incessant questioning over the lunch fiasco, opting to pour yourself into your studies and after school activities. Once you finished up the meeting for student government, you headed out to the field to grab some supplies for the drama club from the field house.

The coach of the boys lacrosse team had given you the okay to borrow equipment for the club’s upcoming performance, so as the director, you figured it was your job to get everything together.

Walking out, the sun dipping lower in the sky as the boys team practiced on the pitch, you notice a familiar figure looming near the end of the bleachers. You take a second to investigate and see Jungkook watching the team, hands stuffed in his pockets.

His eyes follow every shot and pass, following the footwork of the athletes, studying each movement. He looked like he wanted to join in.

Despite getting off on the wrong foot, you could feel the longing dripping from him, the intense desire to be out on that field. He was holding himself back again, and your inner self was dying to know why.

Going against every petty bone in your body, you silently approach him, arms folded across your chest, “You stare any longer without blinking and your eyes will shrivel up.” He jumps a bit, swiftly collecting himself, a minuscule wave of guilt flushing through him when he realizes it’s you.

Jungkook looks back out on the field, fighting his urge to run out and join the team on the field.

“What are you doing here?,” he asks, slightly interested in the answer but more so interested in what was happening before him.

You follow his line of sight, wondering why he didn’t just ask the coach to try out if he wanted to play so bad.

“Grabbing some things for the drama club, what about you? Stalking the boys lacrosse team?” His head shoots towards you, eyes glowering.

“No, I just like lacrosse, that’s all.”

Jungkook’s defensive expression turns sullen, once again watching as the ball is thrown back and forth.

“So why don’t you play? I’m sure you’d probably be good at it with your,” you realize where you’re headed with this and can’t help the embarrassment flushing your cheeks, “physical build.”

Jungkook’s first instinct is to be flush as well, but he covers it up with a sly smirk, “My physical build, huh?”

Rolling your eyes you reach out to push his shoulder, returning your hand back to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Watching you get so flustered feeds the grin on his face. It was kind of cute, though he wouldn’t tell you he thought so.

“I can’t.”

Your face distorts into confusion, wondering what could possibly keep him from doing something as normal as participating in a sport.

You want to ask him why, but after the last ‘why’ question you’d asked him had gone so sourly, you figured there must be a reason, albeit probably not a good one, and that it wasn’t your business to judge.

instead, you take a step forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, well, as best you could considering he is much taller than you, and just watch the team practice.

You can feel him stare at you when you move closer, but he turns back watching just as you are.

“Well, I think you should at least try,” you look up at him, finding him already looking back at you, “you might regret it if you don’t.”

And with that bit of wisdom imparted, you get what you came here for, knowing that Jungkook follows your every move with his surprised gaze until you’re out of sight.

Once you’re gone, Jungkook’s attention goes back to the field, seeing the team packing up for the night. He goes against the part of him telling him to go home, and jobs out to the field instead.

Approaching the coach, Jungkook prepares himself for the step he’s about to take, your words in the back of his mind; ‘If you don’t, you might regret it.’

—

The first time you see Jungkook on the field is during a late evening run to the field house after one of the members threw up all over the jerseys you’d borrowed. The coach was hesitant, but allowed you a few more after your promise to wash and return them yourself.

The team had already packed up and headed to the locker room, but Jungkook stayed behind to get in at least another hour of practice.

The coach had agreed to let him try-out that first evening, and after proving himself a valuable addition to the team, he was finding all the time he could to catch up, considering the team had already been in practice for a few weeks now.

You didn’t mean to stare, fully prepared to march out, grab what you need, and head back in, but you watched as his arms lifted his jersey over his head, wiping the sweat dripping from his face.

Officially bordering on crappy stalker tendencies, you shook yourself out of your trance and grabbed the jerseys from the shed. When you turn around to head back to the auditorium, Jungkook is jogging towards you.

“Enjoy the show?,” he pries, smirk taking over his face. If you were paying more attention to his cocky attitude and less to his bare torso, you’d have quickly offered a witty comeback.

“What-I was just getting some, stuff, for the drama club,” you stop yourself before you ramble on and humiliate yourself further. Jungkook likes to tease you, though, so he finds any way to push your buttons and take advantage of your innocent nature.

“So that wasn’t you I just saw drooling when I took my shirt off?” You snap yourself out of it, scoffing, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d get stuck for a second.

“Don’t flatter yourself Kook.”

He’s about to press you further when you feel a sharp pain shoot through your jaw, the faint taste of blood leaking onto your tongue. You wince, hand shooting up to hold your face, eyes darting frantically around your surroundings.

Jungkook could sense your change in demeanor immediately, noticing you wince, stepping forward, “Hey, are you okay?”

His hand reaches out to you, and you are about to brush it off when you both are alerted to yelling towards the quad.

Jungkook is the first to rush towards the noise, you following in quick pursuit. The closer you get, the more painful your jaw gets, stiff and throbbing, a ringing pulsing in your ears. You almost have to stop and hold your head between your knees, but you need to see what’s going on.

There in the quad, you see one of your friends beating the shit out of another guy. They are both wearing practice jerseys similar to Jungkook’s. You notice the blood dripping down the guys chin, a large welt on his cheek.

You’re about to say something when your friend swings swiftly, landing a particularly hard punch to the guys face, sending him to the ground.

At the same time, your head whips to the side, the force sending you sideways, but you catch yourself. Your hand shoots up to hold your face, tears pricking at your eyes, fighting back a yelp as the pain fills every one of your senses.

Before anyone can see you, you collect yourself as best you can and stagger towards the parking lot. You needed to get away from here, you needed to get in your car, and get home before someone sees.

You’re spitting mouthfuls of blood as you go, the tears streaming down your face, the red and purple colors slowly painting the affected area.

Once you make it to your car, you steady yourself and head home, the farther you get from the school, the clearer your head gets.

Jungkook turns around after the last blow, coach coming out to break it up. He expects to find you standing there, asking, “Isn’t that one of your friends?,” but finds you gone.

Without meaning too, his wolf senses kick in, searching for a sign of where you might have gone. He follows your scent to the parking lot and then notices the trail of bloody spit that ends at an empty space.

He can tell from the scent that it’s yours, he just understand what could’ve happened between the field and the quad that could cause you to bleed like that and run off.

Jungkook was not only curious, he was worried.

—

You try to cover the bruises as best you could, but it just wasn’t working. You’d tried to convince your mom to let you stay home, but she wasn’t having it. Your secret was yours and yours alone, not even your parents knew, so you couldn’t argue with her.

Instead, you dragged yourself to school, trying your best to hide your wounds with makeup and a turtleneck. You’d just have to avoid everyone today and lay low.

You’d gone through the first half of the day without any real problems. You’d met up with your friends in the library where they talked about the fight, and one made fun of your outfit choice, of course, ‘only teasing’ though.

Avoiding people ended up being pretty easy, until you locked eyes with Jungkook down the hall, causing him to make a beeline straight for you.

You tried to turn around and keep walking, pretending like you hadn’t seen him, but he was quicker than you, blocking your path.

“Why’d you disappear yesterday?” He wants to ask about the blood, but figures he should start off simple and then get to the bizarre.

He looks over your face, trying not to seem suspicious, but you instantly reach your hand up to cover the side of your face that’s bruised.

Jungkook notices, zeroing in on the faint purple tint of your skin. He didn’t see anyone with you guys when you were in the quad during the fight, and he was sure he would’ve sensed if you’d been attacked right behind him. How the hell did you get a bruise like that?

As if to help him connect the dots, you both turn your attention to another figure at his locker down the hall. It’s the guy that was attacked, the guy whose bruises are an exact match to yours.

Jungkook isn’t sure how exactly to piece this all together in his mind, but he does now realize that you had started acting funny once the fight had started, and disappeared right after the final blow.

Was it possible for one person to feel another’s pain like that? Considering he’s a werewolf, it shouldn’t have been a total shock to him, he’s around unnatural things all the time.

Still, he’d never encountered something quite like this. It was normal for a pack to share emotions and feelings, in their nature to sense each other on an emotional level.

You are definitely not a wolf though, and this is way more than that connection.

Before he can question you about it, the bell rings and you rush to class, leaving him behind with more questions.

Jungkook finally caught you at the end of the day, right before you could run off again. It was his first lacrosse game, and considering you were the reason he even tried out, he thought he’d invite you to come watch.

He also wanted to talk to you about what happened, and figured after the game would be as good a time as any.

A small part also just wanted you to be there so he could show off and maybe, just maybe, impress you. You were the first girl, first person even, to befriend him despite his objections, and the more you helped him take his wall down, the more he started to like you. Jungkook might of even developed a bit of a crush on you.

“You want me to come to your game?” You repeat back to him, and that signature smirk rears it’s annoying head again.

“Yes, that’s what I said didn’t I?” Flustering you was his favorite part about your friendship. He never got tired of seeing your cheeks turn red and listening to you nervously ramble. They were some of the points on the ever-growing list of things he liked about you.

“I won’t have anyone to sit with,” you admit, realizing how distant your other friends had become since you’d started hanging out with Jungkook. Don’t get you wrong, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it would be awkward to be alone.

“That’s okay, you can sit with my brothers.” This was the first time Jungkook had really mentioned his brothers, other than the time he had admitted to you that he wasn’t an only child like you and that his family was big.

“Your brothers?”

Jungkook smiles, appreciating how enthusiastic you looked when he shared personal information.

“Yeah, I have 6, and they all wanted to come watch my first game. You can sit with them if you want, I’ll let them know you’ll be there.”

Now, even though you were nervous, the chance to meet Jungkook’s mystery siblings was more enticing than sitting at home watching movies by yourself, so you promised him you’d come.

—

“What is she, your girlfriend or something?” Jin insinuates, mocking face making kissy noises to further antagonize his youngest brother. Jungkook’s face flushes beet red, flying at the eldest, tackling him.

“Jin, leave our little Romeo alone,” Taehyung joins in on the teasing, causing Jungkook to throw a pillow at his head after tackling Jin to the couch.

Namjoon and Yoongi are watching their brothers play fight from the kitchen table, not wanting to incur Jungkook’s embarrassed rage onto themselves.

“Is she cute?” Jimin asks from the other couch, Jin and Taehyung nodding their heads in question, waiting for Jungkook to spill.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess...” he rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat radiate off his skin. His brothers always found ways to pick on him, since he was the youngest, he was the best target.

“Ooo, well if she’s not your girlfriend maybe I’ll make her mine,” Hoseok yells as he enters the room, shoving Jungkook playfully.

A low growl rumbles through the room, shutting everyone up. They all stare at Jungkook, his teeth slightly bared, and they fight their natural instinct to react.

“He was just kidding Kookie,” Jimin says softly, patting Jungkook’s shoulder, calming him down.

“Sorry, didn’t realize how serious you were about her,” Hobi admits sheepishly, pulling out a chair next to Yoongi and plopping down.

“I’m not-,” he scoffs, “I mean, we’re friends, that’s all.”

They all stare at Kook, knowing their little brother all too well, seeing right through his aloof act.

Jungkook pass over to Hoseok, head down in submission, “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Hoseok just beams a wide smile, “It’s okay, it’s natural to feel protective over your mate.”

Jungkook’s eyes shoot wide open, “What-she’s not my- she’s not even a wolf, and how would you even know-“

Joon is up and patting the youngest’s back, “It doesn’t matter that she’s not a wolf. You’re exhibiting all the signs of having found your mate.”

Jungkook’s embarrassment grows more than he thought it could.

He wants to tuck himself away and hide forever. It had been obvious to everyone but him that you were his mate. The first girl he’d made friends with and it’s his mate. What are the odds?

“We’ll be on our best behavior, promise.” Taehyung holds his hand up, scouts honor. They all share a laugh and Jungkook gets ready for the game.

—

When you show up at the field, Jungkook meets you at the sideline, pointing you in the direction of his brothers, who all watch you with anticipation.

“Good luck,” you whisper it in his ear to make sure he hears it over the loud roar of the crowd. You miss how his cheeks turn pink, but he just smiles and runs back over to the bench.

You make your way over to the group of boys all smiling at you and cheering for their brother. One of them, tall with brown hair and glasses, stands to help you over the bleachers to sit and shakes your hand.

“You must be the famous Y/N we’ve heard so much about,” Namjoon says and the. Introduces himself along with the others.

You can’t help but feel nervous, not only at the revelation that Jungkook talks about you to his family, but the fact that you’re surrounded by 6 guys you’ve never met before, each one beautiful in their own way.

You could’ve guessed, considering how attractive Jungkook is, that his brothers would be as well.

The game starts, and you’re sandwiched in between Jimin and Yoongi, cheering alongside them for Jungkook.

At halftime, your team is up down by one, and Jungkook has yet to be put on the field.

While you’re growing impatient for him, his brothers seem to be perfectly fine with Jungkook riding bench. In fact, every time the coach looked like he was about to out Kook in, they all watched on almost nervously.

You wondered why.

Jungkook meets you at the bleachers while the halftime clock runs, the team getting water and the coach going over plays.

“Why are your brothers not upset coach isn’t putting you in?” You ask, holding his water bottle for him as he tightens his shoe lace.

Jungkook knows that it’s because they’re afraid he’ll lose control and wolf out on the field, but he can’t tell you that.

“They’re just overprotective, afraid I’ll get hurt or something.”

You nod in understanding, even though you can sense that’s not it.

The game starts back up and before you know it, Jungkook is heading onto the field.

The boys are all watching in nervous anticipation, so you take the initiative to cheer Kook on for all of them.

Jungkook sees the ball as it plops to the ground and suddenly he’s after it, scooping it up and running for his life.

The crowd is cheering and as he approaches the goal, he can hear your voice above them all. He turns his head to look at you for just a fraction of a second, but it's enough for a member from the opposing team to tackle him violently to the ground.

Suddenly, everything is black.

—

You wake up in the emergency room, ice pack to your head and half of Jungkook’s brothers standing around you.

You try to sit up, catching Jimin’s attention, and he rushes over to help you slowly rise from the cot.

“Where are we?,” you slur, head pounding and vision blurry,

“We’re in the emergency room, do you remember what happened?”

You stare at your legs, trying to think back to last thing you remember, “We were at the game, and Jungkook was about to score, but-“

And it’s all blank after that.

Hoseok approaches your other side, “He got tackled pretty hard. He passed out on the field,” the all look at you, “you passed out in the stands at the same moment.”

While your head is pounding and fuzzy, you understand what had happened and you know that they’re going to want answers.

Before they can get any out, though, they are ushered out and Jungkook comes in. He’s holding an ice pack to his head as well, smiling when he sees you.

“You trying to steal my thunder or something?” He asks sarcastically, cracking a smile out of you.

“I can explain,” you start, but you’re at a loss for words.

Jungkook just walks over and plops down next to you on the cot.

“Is that why you ran off the night of the fight? Why your blood was in the parking lot and you had the same bruises as that kid?”

He’d already pieced it together in his mind, and you’re tempted to make an excuse, but decide the truth needed to come out sooner or later.

You stare at the floor going over what you were going to say in your mind. You’d never told anyone this, and here you were, about to tell Jungkook, the weird kid from school and the kid from your past, your deepest secret.

“I remember you,” he adds, and you lift your gaze to look at him.

“That night in the woods, 10 years ago. You were the little girl that was scared of me.”

He looks sad and you can’t help the racing of your heart at the fact that he had remembered you after all these years. You were sure he’d forgotten or not realized it was you, considering he hadn’t brought it up, until now.

“I wasn’t scared of you,” you whisper, and Jungkook looks surprised.

“I was crying for you, for myself. Your leg was caught in a trap. I could feel your pain, Kook.”

This whole time he’d thought he was this horrible monster that made a poor little girl cry; for 10 years he believed he was the big bad wolf.

But he wasn’t.

“And that explains the blood, the bruise, and our matching concussions,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you laugh and he’s glad the two of you are alone.

“Yeah, sorry about ‘stealing your thunder,’” you giggle and he can hear his heart beating in his ears.

“Are you okay?,” he asks, looking over your head in search of any other injuries. You grab his hand and squeeze it tight.

“I’m okay.”

—

You both are released from the E.R. and Jungkook invites you to family dinner at his house.

As you stand on the front steps, you find yourself more nervous knowing you were meeting his entire family this time, but he folds your hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Dinner is filled with loud laughs and plenty of teasing. You and Jungkook not only have matching concussions but matching blushes as well.

His parents absolutely adore you, knowing the second you walked in that you were their son’s mate.

After dinner, Jungkook walks you out to the back porch to get some fresh air as the others clear the table.

you both lean on the railing staring up at the stars, when Jungkook lowers his gaze back to you. He’s mesmerized by the way the stars glimmer in your eyes, and when you lock eyes with him, he holds his breath.

Before you can say anything, he’s leaning down, lips pressing gently to yours.

It’s sweet and soft, holding a passion neither of you had ever felt before.

When he pulls away, you both stare at each other in silence for a minute, before his mother calls you both in.

You're standing at the sink in their kitchen drying dishes as his mother hands them to you, when she turns to you.

“I used to tell the boys stories of the old world when they were little,” she smiles at you and you return it.

“There was one story, about these incredible healers with the kindest hearts,” and as she looks at you, she can sense the great power within you.

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

Had to repost this because Tumblr deleted it somehow, but hopefully it’s back and everyone can see it, sorry💜

-Moonie🌙

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wonderboygenius · 4 years

Text

finale redo

as promised from my early morning post.

i had a medication induced nap and this all came to me in a dream at like 1am and i absolutely had to write it out. i got up this morning and started writing non stop and i JUST finished. enjoy this and let me know what you think! i took some inspiration from the scrubs finale at the end too! i didn’t watch much of the last season so if anything’s inaccurate, leave me be! this was my dream!

----

Today was the day. The final day of the BAU as we all grew accustomed to. With Rossi’s announcement of retirement, Prentiss’ elevation to Director of the FBI, and Garcia’s surprise retirement, none of the remaining BAU members wanted to stay on the team as it was. They could’ve stayed on without Rossi and Prentiss; they’d done it before. But with Garcia now leaving...the glue that held them all together, was gone.

The team all decided it was time for a new and younger team to take over. Like when their first team began, the new team needed years and time to become a family and be able to read each other to solve cases. Inevitably the ‘old’ team and the ‘new’ team would mesh.

So they’d all decided on their careers. Rossi was retiring to write more books and occasionally teaching a seminar or two, Garcia was retiring to help victims, a passion project for her. Prentiss was becoming Director. Alvez was returning to the Fugitive Task Force, however taking on more of a desk position to be able to return home more often. JJ became the new Strauss; Unit Chief, supervising the new BAU team, but not going on cases unless absolutely needed. Simmons retired from the FBI altogether, becoming the new Rossi and writing crime fighting books. Lewis became a teacher; teaching new FBI agents linguists and how to be able to emulate people, teaching them the very thing that got her the BAU position. And Spencer was returning to teaching. Not anything related to crime fighting, no. But Old English Writers, the subject his mother taught. But he also occasionally taught the new BAU students as well.

And you?

You were still undecided. You didn’t know where you fit. You were still pretty new in the BAU team, only joining the team a year ago. You were taking your well deserved vacation while deciding what to do with your life. You were still fairly young enough to do whatever you wanted and possibly get a foot in many wanted FBI jobs. Other teams were fighting over you, desperately wanting anyone from the BAU on their team.

But today?

Today was the day. The final day. Everything was already closed up and we were all just saying our goodbyes to the office. We’d all said our personal goodbyes at Rossi’s party. Now was the time to say farewell to your desks, offices, and other employees you wouldn’t see again.

----

You could see Spencer in the conference room with a white board on it. You walked up the stairs to meet him in the room. “Getting a head start on your lectures, I see?” You teased.

Spencer flushed. “A bit. My position at Georgetown doesn’t start for another few weeks and JJ thought it would be helpful if I could teach the new BAU members some tips that helped us,” he gestured to the white board that had various words on it.

You grimaced slightly at the mention of the new Unit Chief. You still weren’t sure how you felt about her after hearing that she and Spencer confessed their love for one another during a case. She knew how you felt about him. You, Garcia, and JJ spent many drunken nights talking about your crush on him and how you should approach him. You’d felt betrayed. And you honestly hadn’t talked to her since.

You shook your head. Now was not the time for that. “Well if you need any help, I’m more than happy to stop by. My vacation isn’t for another week,” you smiled at him.

Spencer gave you a small smile that made your stomach flutter with warmth. “I’d like that, (Y/N).” Spencer was the only one who called you by your name but not your last name. “Have you decided what you’ll do with your career yet?”

You stifled your laugh, hot air blowing from your nostrils to conceal it. “Absolutely not,” your eyes twinkled. “That’s why I’m going on this month-long soul searching vacation. I never dreamed I would make it to the BAU so fast. And now that I became a part of the team...the dream ended. No one ever tells the aspiring students how difficult this job is. And what a toll it takes on you.”

Spencer nodded, knowing all too well how you felt. “You’ll be great no matter what you choose, (Y/N),” he said softly, placing his hand on yours where it rested on the top of a chair.

You squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Spence,” you smiled. You looked around, seeing Alvez and Simmons waiting to say their own goodbyes. “I’m gonna clean up some last minute things around my desk. I’ll come back before I go.”

----

You watched as Garcia left the conference room, laughing as she did.

“What did you do, Penny?” You teased.

“You’ll see,” her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Hey, before you leave for your vacation, we need another Penny/(Y/N) drunk game night.”

“Of course,” you hugged her. “I need to give you time to put your tracking devices on my stuff so you can make sure I’m okay.”

“God I love you,” she grinned widely as she gave you a hug. “Text me, okay?” She grabbed your shoulders.

“Promise,” you told her, kissing her cheek. “I’m gonna go say goodbye to Spence before I head out. I saw everyone on their way out, I’m guessing I’m the last one out,” you laughed.

Garcia smiled. “Yeah, took your time saying goodbye to the walls huh?”

“More like I forgot how many of my things Luke stole and hid away and I had to track them all down,” you smirked. “I finally got the last of it packed in my car...Speaking of tall, dark, and handsome,” you lowered your voice. “When’s your date with him?” You poked at her side.

“Next Friday night,” she blushed. “I’m going now, before you tease me.”

“Love you, P,” you called out as she swiftly left the walkway.

You sighed as you finally walked into the conference room. You could see Spencer cleaning up the round table after a small class of his. You let out a loud laugh as you saw his cheek. There was a giant bright pink kiss stain on it. Penelope’s work of course. “P got you?”

Spencer looked up at you and blushed. “Her goodbye present for me,” he told you.

Well you were glad you re-upped on your signature red lipstick.

“Well I’m gonna head out. I still have to pack a few things for my trip. I said all my goodbyes to my desk,” you joked.

“Now to say goodbye to me?” He asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You shook your head. “Never. I can’t say goodbye to you,” you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. You shivered as you felt Spencer burrow his face in his neck as he always did. “I’ll probably send you pictures from Paris and from every place I’ll go. And pick you up some books,” you giggled, placing your forehead on the side of his neck. Your hug was intimate, both of you completely wrapped around one another.

“That’d be great,” Spencer lifted his head from your neck, but still kept his arms around you.

“I have one last present for you,” you smirked.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at the mischievous look on your face. “I don’t like your look.”

You smiled innocently. “Turn your face this way,” you pointed over your shoulder. “It’s a secret.”

Spencer slowly turned his cheek to you, his bare cheek.

You smirked and puckered your lips, stamping your bright red lips on his other cheek.

“(Y/N)?!” Spencer laughed.

“I couldn’t let P have all the fun,” you giggled. You watched as he released you and walked over to the small mirror in the conference room. “It’ll make you look like a ladies man when your next class comes in,” you teased. “Leave them on!” You objected as he tried to wipe it off. “It’s my mark,” you said pridefully.

“You’ll leave enough of these soon enough,” Spencer smiled.

Your eyebrows furrowed but your smile never faltered. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, remaining cryptic.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” you smiled. You looked over your shoulder, seeing young Agents circling around the bullpen, waiting for Spencer to get them for their class. “You still owe me a dance,” you said, referring to Rossi’s party where Spencer never danced with me.

“You’ll get it,” Spencer smiled, watching you back away.

You smiled, finally walking from the conference room, giving the doorway a nice love tap as you left. You bid hello to the new students as you grabbed your purse, following the rest of the team as they gathered around the elevator. You watched as the elevator filled up, leaving no space for you. “I’ll catch the next one,” you told Alvez.

“You sure? We can squeeze you in,” Alvez told you as he unsuccessfully tried to shuffle around to make room for you.

“No, it’s fine,” you smiled, lifting your strap higher on your shoulder. “I’ll catch the next one.” You waved goodbye as you saw the elevator doors closed.

You knew the next lift would take a bit to come back up for you so you walked away from the doors and stood just outside the glass doors leading to the bullpen of the BAU. As you saw the new agents flitter around, your breath caught as your mind’s eye showed you what should be impossible. The glass doors changed in its appearance. Waving in and out like it was magic. Then suddenly, it turned into a screen.

----

You could see Spencer teaching, but it wasn’t in the bullpen. You could see him in a large room, a smile on his face as you could tell his passion for what he taught. Many students looked enthralled as he taught.

FLASH!

The scene changed. You could see all of you at Simmons’ house, the team all there as they celebrated something. You could see a large balloon #1 behind Simmons and his book right next to him on a shelf. The team raised their glasses of wine as he made a toast. JJ’s children and Simmons’ children ran all around the field of glass around the adults, laughing and happy, not a care in the world.

FLASH!

You could see yourself watching a TV screen. You could see Spencer blushing slightly as he held a small little girl in his arms and an older little boy sat politely next to him.

“And your wife, where is she today?” The interviewer asked him, smiling as she saw his little girl hide her face in her daddy’s neck.

Spencer smiled at the thought of his wife. “She’s at home in her last few days of her pregnancy. She wanted to be here, but her doctor recommended she stay home during this time.”

“And funnily enough, this will be your last child?”

Spencer laughed. “Yes, actually Clee here in my arms was supposed to be our last, but alas we have another one on the way. My wife didn’t speak to me for days after she found out she was pregnant. The kids take after her with her precocious ways and drive her crazy when I’m on my book and press tours.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That must be a lot better than your previous positions. One at the BAU where you hardly had any time to yourself as you wrote in your books, and the other as a professor for both Georgetown and a lecturer for the BAU.”

Spencer nodded, ruffling his son’s hair as he could see him getting impatient. “Yes, definitely. My wife supported me in everything I chose to do, but seeing how much time I spend at home now compared to teaching, she very much prefers this career path I chose. And occasionally, I do lectures whenever she wants me out of the house,” he joked.

The fantasy you laughed and ran your hand across your large belly. You were pregnant! Very pregnant at that! You wore a wedding ring! You looked around your house, confused as the fantasy you and present you combined. You felt immense happiness, but confusion, because you didn’t know who was your husband, nor who was Spencer’s wife. But you still smiled as you saw his happiness. Your heart clenched as you tried to figure out who it was that he married.

FLASH!

Another scene flashed before your eyes. Spencer looked younger and didn’t wear a wedding ring this time. You looked down at yourself. Your belly was gone and you didn’t wear a ring either.

“Can you believe Penelope set this up in one week?” Luke saddled up next to you, a beer in his hand.

“How crazy did she drive you?” You heard yourself speak as your mouth twisted into a smirk.

Luke turned to you and his face dropped. “I haven’t slept this bad since I was on the team,” he deadpanned.

You laughed, hearing it echo around you. “Good thing she’s had practice. Wasn’t JJ’s first wedding planned super fast too?”

“Yeah, thankfully she and Dave just pulled a majority of things from their first wedding,” Luke said, watching the happy couple dance together.

“I’m so happy for them,” you spoke, watching Will and JJ dance. “Brilliant idea for having them remarry on their anniversary, by the way,” you told Luke.

Luke smiled. “Can’t have them be remarried on another day, the anniversary fights we would have to hear about would never end,” he rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of anniversaries and marriages,” you raised your eyebrow and smiled. “When are you asking our dear old P the wonderful question of having her hand?” You teased.

Luke looked around, making sure no one was looking. He pulled you in closer and reached into his pocket, showing you the iconic black velvet box in his pocket. “Tonight,” he told you.

You jolted, putting down your wine glass. “Oh Luke!” You hugged him.

“Shh,” he returned your hug. “I’m pulling her away in a bit and taking her over to the treehouse. JJ and Will know and approved for me to propose at the wedding.”

FLASH!

Another party. But this time it was at Rossi’s house. This time you could tell who it was for. Emily and her boyfrien--excuse me, her fiancee were standing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, taking photos. A large banner saying “Congratulations Emily & Mendoza!” was behind them.

You still didn’t have a wedding ring on.

“They seem happy,” Spencer surprised you as he walked up behind you. No ring on him either. These images weren’t happening in chronological order.

“They are,” you smiled as you watched them. “Emily deserves this.” You looked around as you saw the rest of your teammates all partnered up. Even Tara who was dancing with the new Communications Liaison of the BAU, Samantha. “Everyone’s all finally happy,” you smiled.

“Even you?” Spencer asked.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I could be happier,” you teased.

“How so?” Spencer smiled.

“I’d be happier if you finally asked me out, Reid,” you smiled at his surprised face.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “Fancy a date, (Y/N?)” He asked.

“No,” you told him, watching his face fall. “I fancy a partner in you, Spencer. We’re past the courting stage, don’t you think?”

Spencer smiled bashfully, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Why must you always work ahead of me?”

“Because if I waited for you, I’d have to wait forever for you,” you smiled, draping your arms around his neck and pushing his head down to meet your lips with his.

FLASH!

“I’m nervous,” you told Spencer, your arm around his shoulder. There’s your wedding ring!

“Don’t be, he’ll love you,” Spencer was rubbing your larger belly! And there’s his ring! You were married! “Derek probably told him all about you.”

“Yeah and that’s the problem,” you laughed, feeling your belly shake as you did. You smiled and placed your hand on top of Spencer’s, pressing down so he could feel your son kick. “Benjamin here is nervous too,” you tried.

“Benjamin?” Spencer’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

“I’m trying it out,” you explained. “I still want Jason as a middle name,” you told your husband. Your husband!!! “But we need to choose a first name soon, Spence.”

“We still have two months, love,” he told you.

“How about Aaron?” You heard a gruff voice behind you.

You turned to see the famed Aaron Hotchner behind you.

Spencer immediately got up and hugged his old team leader. “Hotch, this is (Y/N), my wife,” he introduced you.

You got up, waddling over to shake the elder man’s hand.

Aaron shook his head, leaning in to hug you. “I’ve heard so much about you, (Y/N).”

“If it’s from Penny or Luke or Derek, it’s all lies.” You laughed, looking around Rossi’s backyard to see the entire team. Even Elle Greenaway was here, looking happier than ever. You could hear children laughing and playing and you were so grateful to have family around you. You looked over to Spencer, your husband!, and saw the same expression of pure happiness on his face.

FLASH!

The glass doors of the bullpen appeared before you again as you came back from your vision. You blinked the tears out of your eyes as you smiled. You couldn’t tell if it was a dream or a premonition of things to come.

But who says none of it wouldn’t come true? Who’s to say that all of you can’t have this happiness?

Maybe, just maybe...this can happen for all of us. We can be happy despite all of our trauma. Who’s to say that it can’t?

You caught Spencer’s eye and you winked at him. You couldn’t wait to marry him.

You smirked to yourself as you turned your back to the bullpen. This book was closed, but another book was just beginning.

#criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #i guess you could qualify this as a fix it fic?#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #reader insert #spencer reid reader insert

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worldwidejoonie · 5 years

Text

Sucker punch (1/2)

Summary: Get to know someone before you judge them

Pairing: Delinquent(ish)!Yoongi x reader

Warnings: Semi-foul language

See masterlist in bio for visuals and part 2!

a/n: i finally managed to edit this mess

“You want to join the lake tonight?” your friend Jackson asked.

“I would love to, but Jessi said some of the North gangs are getting rowdy.” You answered and rolled your eyes.

“Didn’t your sister make a deal with the other leaders?” Jackson whispered as the teacher arrived at the front of the classroom.

“They did, but some of the gangs, and I quote Jessi “gets their dick in a twist at the thought of doing something stupid.”” You whispered back.

The statement made Jackson snort loudly, earning him an irritated glare from the teacher. Crime rates were high in this town, and several youth gangs roamed the streets. A little trouble was bound to happen occasionally, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be involved. On the other hand, it didn’t stop you from going out altogether.

“Anyways, yeah I’ll go. School is a real pain nowadays, so I need to get out.” You said to Jackson’s delight, making him jump up and down in his seat excitedly.

“Meet me at the main entrance after school?”

“Sure” you shrugged.

You sat at the staircase by the entrance, waiting for Jackson to finish. The last class was elective, and he was taking his sweet time getting out. While answering messages on your phone you heard someone talking underneath you.

“You coming the lake tonight Yoongi hyung?”

“Yeah I guess. Namjoon wanted us to be there, just in case those guys decide to stir something up.”

Someone nudged you with their foot, and you turned around in an instant to smack it. “A normal greeting would be nice shithead.”

Jackson nudged you one more time, and then held his hand out. You took it and hoisted yourself up. He peeked over the railing and smiled “Hey, Yoongi and Jimin! How are you doing?”

The two of them looked up and did a jokingly salute. “Mouth loud as always Wang.”

“It’s my trademark. Say hello to Namjoon for me?”

Jimin smiled up at him “Sure, he’s coming to the lake tonight by the way.”

Jackson answered with a thumbs up. “Talk to you later then. I have to go.” He said and gestured to you impatiently poking him in the ribs. “The little one gets aggressive.”

You sighed and pulled him by the arm down the stairs. “You’re an ass Jackson.”

“But that’s why you love me y/n dearest.”

“Oh, c’mon just walk.” you sighed, and dragged him with you.

As the sound of shoes crackling against gravel became fainter, Jimin turned his attention back to the guy beside him with a questioning look. “Who was that girl?”

“Y/n? Just some goody two shoes from my class.” Yoongi shrugged. He opened his mouth to say something more, but was cut short by a sudden weight hugging him from behind.

“Hello lads! Ready to go?” a cheery voice sang from Yoongi’s back.

“Taehyung, I swear if you don’t get your heavy ass- “

“What are were you talking about anyways?” Taehyung interrupted.

“I just asked who y/n was.” Jimin filled in. “I haven’t really seen her around before.”

“Oh, the one who hangs around Wang all the time? She’s Jessi’s little sister, saw her at a party the other weekend.”

“Yoongi just told me she was a goody two shoes.”

Taehyung smirked. “You shouldn’t assume things about people.” He tsked at the blonde.

“Shut up and get moving.” Yoongi grumbled and started to walk with the other two following shortly after.

The lake was the infamous spot for weekend hangouts. Youth from all over town gathered to dance, sit around the campfire and relieve pent up stress from the week. Your group of friends were chatting and fooling around.

That was until you got soaked with something out of nowhere. You realized the liquid smelt like beer and whipped your head around to find the culprit.

“What the fuck dude?” Jackson exclaimed from the spot beside you.

“Chill, she’s fine.” A guy said.

Scanning over their faces, you recognized them as the gang from the North side.

“Darryl over here just thought she was cute, and we gave him a nudge.”

“Well Darryl, care to apologize?” you answered irritated.

“Nah, I like you all wet sweetie.” The supposed Darryl winked back at you while obviously staring at your chest.

“Did your last sip of beer wash away your remaining brain cells?” You were fuming now.

This struck a nerve with the intoxicated guy, as he raised his hand to hit you. Getting ready to move before the impact you didn’t notice the person lurking in the dark.

Yoongi had seen the open fist coming and had maneuvered himself between you and Darryl. He somehow managed to grab the guys hand before it had the chance to touch you.

“It’s time for you to leave.” Yoongi said with a voiced laced with malice.

Knowing they were outnumbered and on someone else’s turf the group decided to leave.

Turning back one last time they shouted a “We’ll be back!” while walking away to find another place to ruin.

“You have to be tougher to survive around these parts. People like you aren’t made for this.” Yoongi said and turned to meet your eyes.

Finally coming over the shock of everything that just happened you took in the stale alcohol scent. “I smell like shit.”

“More than usual? Definitely.” Jackson chimed in. “I guess Namjoon should know about those shitheads. Stay here okay?” He continued and started to jog towards the campfire.

Already fired up from the previous incident you let Yoongi’s words sink in. “Wait, what do mean people like me?”

He turned around to meet your glare. “Dainty girls like you aren’t prepared for the rougher parts of town.

“You don’t even know me, so how would you know what I can and can’t handle? I’ve taken worse.” You snapped.

“I’m a girl you never even noticed. Don’t push stereotypes on people, yeah?” Whit a last huff you turned to leave.

A puzzled Yoongi was left behind, a little surprised by your fiery outburst. Thinking back at Taehyungs statement earlier that day he realized he might’ve been a little quick to judge you.

Deciding to make things right he ran after you and managed to lightly grabbed your arm, making you turn back around. “I’m sorry for just assuming things about you y/n.”

With an emotionless and seemingly unimpressed face you glared back at him. You weren’t actually mad, just mildly annoyed by his previous comments. What he said had rubbed you the wrong way, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the night being petty.

To Yoongis relief your face finally eased up in a smile.

“Good, now let’s go to the fire, because I’m freezing.”

After that the two of you started to get closer. In the beginning it was greetings between classes, small talk in the hallways and eating lunch with your now merged squads.

That Jackson stopped by the hangout wasn’t new, but that you joined him was a pleasant change Yoongi welcomed. The two of you would sit on the couch in the corner and discuss music, or just talk about anything between heaven and earth.

Sometimes he had to run errands for the gang, and was reluctant about letting you join at first. “It might get violent y/n.”

You scoffed “Then we’ll either run, or throw a few punches if necessary.”

It turned out Yoongi was worried for nothing, because you had no problem fending for yourself. It turned out you had a talent for talking your way out of situations, leaving the days he’d end up with bruised a lot fewer than before.

“I do it all the time at school you know. People automatically assume that I’m this exemplary student. You get away with a lot of stuff when you’re perceived a certain way, especially when you’re good with words and small lies.” You told him at your now regular talks.

Yoongi looked over at you amused. “You’re aware that’s called deception, right?”

“Not my fault people are gullible.” You said, making the two of you burst out in laughter.

Sometimes Yoongi caught himself wondering if you’d show up, and he would always feel this little spark of excitement when he saw you peek over Jacksons tall frame when you came in the door. “Like a child in kindergarten waiting for their best friend to show up” Jimin described it.

When the two of got tired of the other boys, Yoongi would take you to his secret spots around the city. The rooftop with panorama view at the outskirts was your favorite. Your friendship had started out snarky remarks, but as time went you meshed together perfectly.

It was times like this, lying beside each other on the top of a building you felt it the most. Taking in the sounds of the city, while looking at the sky and just enjoying each others presence. Yoongi took a deep breath, making him also get a little whiff of your familiar scent.

And in that moment he realized that his feelings towards you might’ve crossed the definition of platonic.

#yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x reader #suga delinquent au #bts gang au #platonic jackson wang #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfction

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finnofamerica · 5 years

Text

Maybe Like - Race Higgins x Reader

Summary: You hated Race Higgins, but a partner project might amend that.

Word Count: 2,432 (!!New High Score!!)

|| Masterlist ||》Fluff《

Race Higgins was not an idiot by any means, but he was very very stupid. A word that, in this context, means “lacking common sense”. He was an act first, think later kind of guy, but the most annoying thing about Race Higgins was that, despite sharing three classes, he was always inexplicably, invariably, unfailingly excited to see you.

You couldn't imagine why. You were just you, you walked to school every morning, ate lunch with your friends, and participated in your extracurricular activities just like everybody else. In most classes you sat to the side of the room, avoiding Race and his friends. They were loud and Race was far from shy; he wouldn't hesitate to interrupt the teacher to ask about something he didn't understand. As a student, you appreciated that kind of audacity. As someone who just wanted to get their work done, you loathed his interruptions. It only got worse when your teacher announced partner projects for the school science fair.

“Hi Y/n!” Race took the seat across from you as the other students moved to find their partners.

“Hello, Higgins,” You sighed, pulling out a notebook to take notes for your project. “What kind of project are you interested in doing?”

“Uh, I don't know,” He shrugged, “I like math?”

You sighed again, digging out your laptop.

“Okay that's not much to go on,” You said slowly as you typed your log in.

“What'cha doing?” The blonde boy wondered as he moved to sit next to you.

“A generic google search for science fair projects that satisfy both of our interests?” You scrolled through a random ‘Science fair’ project website. “Here look, ‘beats are a pattern of oscillating sound intensity…’ blah, blah, blah…. Wait! Cymatics, we can do our own version of the Chladni experiment!”

Race watched as you practically bounced in your seat, but none of those words made any sense to him.

“What's a chalandi?” His blue eyes scanned your face as you pulled your hair back, using a spare pencil to secure it in place.

“Chladni was an 18th century German physicist and Musician,” You read, “who demonstrated how vibrations could be used to create striking geometric patterns!And Geometric patterns are just math, which you like! And audio is my thing! I mean, I could build one of these in like a week with the right stuff!”

Race was infected by your excitement, the way you bounced in your seat, the light in your eyes and the smile on your face.

“What if we did a project on how sound effects different substances?” He asked scooting closer, “Like oobleck!”

“Non-Newtonian fluids, that's an excellent idea!” You jotted down on the notepad you had out.

Two weeks later your family had grown accustomed to Race's presence in your house. You brother found it odd, seeing as you complained about Race annoying you constantly, but even he began to get along with the blonde.

“I brought doughnuts!” Race beamed as he entered your garage.

“You are late!” You replied from your seat on the cold cement floor, not even turning to look at him. You were growing used to him being around, and you hated it. Sharing classes was one thing, you didn't have to talk to him. This was so completely frustrating, and you hated that it was impossible to hate him, even when he rambled about things that made zero sense to you.

“I brought coffee too,” He offered, holding out the cup holder to you. You gave him a smile.

“I guess I might just forgive you then.” You winked, ignoring the swelling of your heart when he beamed back at you. It didn't help that this asshole knew exactly how to get to your heart. Food.

“What's this junk?” Race gestured to the items surrounding you, the majority of which were old speakers.

“I'm building the things. I have a couple old monitors that the little concert hall was throwing out. I figured that if they didn't work, I could rewire them and see if I could fix them. I think one of them is blown, but I need to get the mesh of the top though before I can repair the cone.” You explained, taking a sip of the God sent coffee.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but how can I help?” He knelt beside you.

“Well, for starters, you could hand me that tool kit over there, then could you run inside and ask my mother for a thread and needle?” You pulled your hair up. A habit Race noticed that you did whenever you were getting down to business.

Turns out, tearing apart and fixing speakers made for a fun Saturday afternoon. Though Race particularly enjoyed watching you work in a ratted old pair of overalls that you probably stole from your brother.

“This is loose, should I tighten it?” Race asked, looking up from the Chladni part of your project.

“No! I did that on purpose. The plate needs to vibrate, and if you tighten it too much then it won't have the room to move.” You tucked a bit of loose hair behind your ear, covering your mouth with a yawn. “We've been working for hours, we should take a break.”

“Well, almost dinner…” Race trailed off, you could practically see the gears turning in his head. “We could go to get something to eat?”

“You buying?” You asked, wiping some sweat off your forehead.

“I think I can manage.” He shrugged.

“Sure, I just need to wash my face.” You stood, wiping your dusty hands on your overalls.

Race maybe wasn't as bad as you thought, at least after you got to know him. He was smart, even if he didn't seem like it. If you can explain something to him, he can understand it. Which was a skill lost on you. Since you, for some reason, are incapable of retaining math of any level. He just likes to goof. A fact that made the blond all the more attractive to you as he pretended that his French fries were walrus tusks. He grew on you like moss on a tree and you hated it.

After months of working, it was finally time for the science fair. Of course, you and Race were bickering over something trivial because it was fun. You couldn't even remember what you were arguing about as you set up your table, but you knew one thing: in this instance, Race was correct.

“I hate you,” You muttered, “Fine! You're right, will ya stop now?”

“Haha! You should a known you couldn't win a fight against me, Sweetheart,” He cheered victoriously. Race had taken to calling you ‘Sweetheart’ not long after you had begun your project, you never liked it in the beginning, but now, a lack of ‘sweetheart’, meant something serious. You just made a face at him, echoing his words back at him mockingly. You still needed to get your stuff off the cart you borrowed.

“Whatever happened to romance?” Race snorted. He certainly enjoyed riling you up at any chance he could, though he wouldn't go so far as to seriously piss you off. He'd made that mistake before and you spent the afternoon ripping apart a radio and putting it back together again, until you calmed down.

“Higgins,” You sighed, pulling your hair up, “Can I borrow your muscles and get you to move this sand?”

“Why did we get all this sand if we are only using a cup full?” He whined.

“Because Kimber gets them by the bucket full and I'm too lazy to haul cups back and forth from his class room.” You shrugged, lifting your three modified speakers with ease - not at the same time, of course.

“Y'know that makes zero sense? Why would you haul around a sixty pound bucket of sand instead of three little solo cups of sand that only would amount to a pound and a half?” Race frowned at you. You just shrugged and continued wiring the speakers into a small sound board, from there you were able to connect your phone.

Race enjoyed watching you work. There was something particularly entertaining about you putting things together all the while muttering curses underneath your breath.

At the beginning of the semester he simply liked you because your face was familiar. Now, at the semesters end, he liked you for so many more reasons. You were funny and kind and you didn't shy away from him. You told him what you were thinking, when you were thinking it and you didnt care if he was loud and annoying. Or if you did, you never let on about it. He liked that you were opinionated and hard working. He liked that the presentation of your project went smoothly with you explaining concepts he hadn't quite understood. He liked your smile and your eyes and the infectious way your laugh filled the room. Race Higgins didn't hate you at all, and he hated it.

“So,” Race leaned over the table as you placed the rest of your stuff in the back of your car. “Now that the project is over wanna do something besides argue?”

“But arguing is just so much fun, Higgins, why would we want to do anything else?” You shook your head.

“Shut up, I'm trying to ask you on a date.” He gripped your hand.

“I uh-”

“There is a Cross Country meet this weekend, we could get food after?” He offered, nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

“Are you gonna pretend to be a walrus again?” You rose a brow.

“No?” Race frowned.

“Shame,” You shrugged, “I like Jeffrey.”

His frown melted into a smile as he laughed, a most wonderful sound.

“Cool. I, uh, I'll see you there.”

You were too focused on your racing heart to notice the victory dance he did as he walked away.

“So, did you have fun?” A very sweaty Race came to stand next to you.

“Well, I stood for two hours in the wind and cold, only to see you for five seconds. However, I must say that I'm impressed. I suppose it makes sense, they don't call you ‘Race’ Higgins for nothing. I don't understand sports, so forgive me, but this is fun? For you?” You rubbed your arms, hoping the friction would elicit a little bit of warmth from your skin.

“Did you not bring a jacket?” He furrowed his brows at you. It wasn't like he could help right now, he was in his jersey.

“No, I did. I'm just too lazy to put it on.” You shrugged, gesturing to the hoodie tied around your waist.

“You are the str- I'm gonna go shower in the locker room real quick, I'll be back soon.” He cringed at his greasy hair. “And put on the jacket!”

You rolled your eyes, but put the hoodie on anyways. As promised, it wasn't long before Race joined you in the parking lot in fresh clothes and freshly showered.

“Do you want to ride me - I mean, with me? Or just follow?” Race stuttered, his face going red with his mistake.

“I'll follow,” You laughed. “My car’s already here and I don't see the point in wasting gas by making you run back and forth.”

“Okay, uh, just stick close?”

“It would be easier if you just told me where we are going??” You pointed out. Race pouted as he weighed his options.

“Fine! It's the Mom & Pop we went to a while back! I thought it'd be a cute first date, since that was the first time we hung out outside of working on the project.” He ran his hand through his wet hair. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Wow, you put a lot of thought into this didn't you?” You said, ignoring the swelling in your chest. Race shrugged, but the redness of his cheeks and ears told you the truth. He wouldn't admit it until much, much later, but Race had been thinking about this for nearly a month and a half now.

“Well, lead the way!” You beamed, much to his relief.

The familiar Mom & Pop diner was a sight for sore eyes. It was just so nice and warm and welcoming. Race, apparently, knew all the employees by name and they all seemed genuinely happy to see him. It was nice. It was really nice. Race could, and would, talk to you about anything and you found yourself loving the sound of his voice as he talked about his friends, telling you about the time that Albert stayed over and slept walked down the stairs. Even Jeffrey the Walrus made a comeback.

You were practically wheezing with laughter as Race made faces at you, taking on the persona of Jeffrey.

“C'mon, Y/n, Jeffrey needs a friend.” Race wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“No way.” You shook your head with a smile.

“You know you want to!”

“Not happening!”

“Please?” He puppy eyed you. You caved stealing a couple of fries from his plate situating them between your lips and teeth so they'd stay.

“Dork.” You muttered, making a face at him. The fries were salty, but the reward was sweet as he laughed. The good majority of your date was spent as walruses, making faces at each other, but you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your night.

As he walked you back to your car, you couldn't help but think about how things had changed over the past couple of months. You’d hated him, but Race Higgins was not stupid. He was smart and sweet and put real thought into spending time with people he cared about. He was far from shy, and faces issues head on even if he's scared, and he was light-hearted and fun. He was a whirlwind that knocked the breath out of you at every turn.

“Can I just say,” You hesitated when Race stopped by your car. He nodded, his eyes scanning your face. “I had a really good time, tonight.”

“Yeah?” His lips twitched into a smile.

“Yeah,” You leaned up to peck his cheek, “I wouldn't hate doing this again.”

Blush covered his cheeks, his smile only getting wider. He was at a loss for words as you giggled, bidding him goodnight.

You had thought you hated him. No, turns out you didn't hate Race Higgins at all, you maybe liked him, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

Tags: @kingofsantafe @anon-pancake @green-tea-anon @ticket-anon

#racetrack x reader #race higgins x reader #newsies x reader #finn writes #1/5/2019 #edited 3/1/2019

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permets-tu-not-permettez-vous · 5 years

Text

This Side of Paradise

Chapter One: Lost on You

Cosette turned her key one last time, hoping against hope that her banged up Subaru would start. Nothing. Cosette let out a huff of frustration. This was just the last of a number of stunningly mediocre things that had accumulated to make it an altogether terrible day. First, she had spilled scalding coffee on her way to work, leaving large stains on her blouse that most likely wouldn’t come out. When she got to work, she found she had forgotten to bring an extra blouse from the last time it happened so she had to wear the shirt all day. There was a pep rally which meant the kids were antsy all day and her class times were shorter. And to finish it all off, they had a department meeting after school that had been not only absolutely pointless, but frustratingly boring. All she had wanted to do was head home and grade papers in bed. Well, in all honesty, she just wanted to watch some Jane Austen film in bed, but these papers needed to be graded, and so there was no way around it. Cosette rested her forehead on the steering wheel, working up the energy to call her dad, hoping that he would know what to do. Cosette had no idea where to even start with cars. She was definitely adding wine to her paper grading that night. She deserved it after this shitstorm of a day.

A knock on her window startled her so much that she accidentally hit the horn and her car beeped. Cosette blushed and looked out her window to see a dark-haired and absolutely stunning woman leaning down to peer through the window. She was wearing a leather jacket, had several piercings poking through her ears, and caramel eyes that rested under sharply defined brows. She was clearly trying not to laugh at Cosette’s embarrassment at being startled, which only grew as she saw how hot her audience was. She rolled down her window.

“Your car isn’t starting?” Her voice was deep and curling, like whiskey. Cosette nodded, unable to find her voice. The woman’s smile broke through her resolve, and it transformed her face. “Hi, I’m Eponine. I teach welding and shop. I could take a look at it for you.”

Cosette willed herself to form some coherent sentences. “Hi Eponine. I’m Cosette. It’s nice to meet you. I am also a teacher, in the English department.”

Eponine smirked. “I know,” she said as her eyes tracked over her, and Cosette felt like she was being examined. Eponine knew about her? She reminded herself not to read too much into it.

“I guess it is a pretty small school. I’m new here. Just started this year.”

“Well, welcome. Now, let me have at your car.” Cosette remembered that before Eponine showed up she was having a terrible day. Now it seemed her day was looking up. Cosette jumped into action, bustling out of her car. Standing next to Eponine, she came up to her shoulder. She tried not to let on that she was sizing Eponine up, but she was too focused on the task at hand. She got into the car, turned the key and examined the inner workings of the car, leaving the door open. Then she got out, tracked to the front and opened her hood. Cosette stood there mute, trying to think of good conversation starters, but she kept getting distracted by the focused look on Eponine’s face, a thin line appearing between her eyebrows as she pursed her lips. How had she never noticed her before?

Eponine nodded to herself, almost the way a scientist did at the conclusion of a successful experiment. She moved back around to Cosette, brushing her hands one against the other to clean them up somewhat. “You’re battery is dead. Did you leave your lights on this morning? Your light signal was on in the car.”

Cosette groaned, putting a hand over her forehead. “I must have. It was such a crazy morning. I was running late and had spilled coffee all over myself. I must have forgotten about the lights in the middle of everything. I feel so silly for forgetting.”

Eponine smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. We all do it, even me, though I don’t like to brag about it as the shop teacher. It’s an easy fix. Just let me bring my car around and I’ll jump it for you.”

“Thank you so much!” Eponine shrugged off the thanks and headed across the parking lot. Cosette tapped out a quick message to her dad explaining the situation, telling him that one of her teacher friends who knew about cars was helping her so that her dad didn’t immediately get in the car and drive over himself. Cosette heard a car approaching and looked up to see Eponine driving a green pickup her way. Cosette’s lips quirked upwards. She had to say that the car fit her personality, or at least the parts of her personality that she could surmise from looking at her. But they did paint a pretty poignant picture.

Eponine hopped out, and made quick work out of the jumper cables. She had Cosette get in and turn on her car, which whirred to life under Eponine’s watchful eye. Cosette could feel a smile break out on her face. Eponine met her eyes, and it seemed that a spark passed between them. Eponine looked away quickly and Cosette guessed she must have imagined it, but her eyes lingered on her profile anyway. She came to a decision.

“Hey,” she said, practically jumping out of her car in her haste, wanting to prolong this moment, to bask in Eponine’s presence. Eponine looked up, surprised by the urgency in Cosette’s voice. “Let me buy you a drink. Goodness knows after a day like today I need one, and it looks better if I don’t drink alone. Plus, I really want to thank you for helping me out. You made what could have been a really shitty experience for me pretty bearable.”

Eponine considered it, her head cocked to the side and her eyes narrowed. Again, Eponine got the feeling that she was being observed, was being measured against some yardstick in Eponine’s head that determined the safety and interest levels that Cosette presented. Finally she nodded, tucking a flyaway dark curl behind her ear. “I’d love to. Anything to avoid you ending your night alone at a bar. The only question is what to do about your car.”

“There I defer to your expertise,” Cosette said with a laugh. She really should learn more about cars.

“Do you live close?” Eponine asked, shoving her hands in her pockets. Cosette tried to pretend that her heart didn’t flutter a little bit at the question.

“Yeah, over on Rue de Rambuteau.”

“Okay, well what if I follow you home, you drop off your car and I drive us to and from. Or if you don’t want to get into the car with a random shop teacher we can get a Lyft.” Eponine had a casual air around her that Cosette envied. Where Cosette would hem and haw and take her time getting to her point, Eponine seemed to be incredibly blunt and straightforward with an attitude that just begged for you to argue with her. Cosette wondered whether that meant their personalities would mesh well or not. She shook herself.

“Well seeing as you haven’t murdered me yet, I would be more than happy to take my first ride ever in a pickup truck from you.”

It was worth it to see the look of absolute shock tinged with horror that appeared on her face. Eponine sputtered, her mouth working without forming any thoughts. Cosette laughed; it was good to see the self-assured and practical attitude broken over a small thing like pick up trucks. “You’re joking,” Eponine said slowly, almost more of a question than a statement. Cosette nodded, laughing. “You were joking,” Eponine repeated.

“So you’ve said,” Cosette said when she caught her breath. Eponine’s disbelief morphed into a genuine laugh, a husky amber peal of laughter that was sexy as hell. Cosette sobered quickly at the sound. “So, you’ll just follow me?” Cosette asked, gesturing towards her car.

Eponine nodded, her smile still blinding, and Cosette hurried to get into her car as Eponine wound up her jumper cables and clambered into her own pickup. Cosette pealed out of her spot effortlessly and automatically headed towards home, hyperconscious of her own driving, and checking her rear view mirror much more often than she probably should. As she drove, she attempted to pull herself together. There was a knot of nerves tightening in her gut, and she felt a little hot. She rolled down the window and let the cool air rush over her face. She took some shaky breaths and tried to swallow several times but her throat stuck. What was she doing? Asking a woman out for drinks? She couldn’t even remember the last time she went on a date. Not that this was a date, she reminded herself sternly before she got too far down that train of that thought.

She pulled into her driveway, and noted that Eponine didn’t follow her; rather, she just pulled over on the street and left the car idling. Cosette ran inside to drop off some of her school stuff and change her coffee-stained blouse. She also applied a subtle layer of lipstick, checking her reflection in the mirror of the entryway. She looked somewhat frazzled, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair slightly limp. She tried pulling her hair into a bun. It accentuated her cheeks better and made her seem less red, more put together. She quickly toed on some cute heels, hoping that Eponine hadn’t gotten tired of waiting and driven off. She also hoped that Eponine didn’t notice she had dressed up for her a bit. She gave herself one last look in the mirror. “You can do this, Cosette,” she told herself sternly, like she imagined her mother might have done when she was younger. Cosette was used to being her own mother in situations like this, being both encouraging and cautious.

She hurried outside and hopped into Eponine’s car, trying not to show what an effort it was to get her shorter frame up into the pickup. Eponine grinned, making Cosette think that she hadn’t been that subtle. “Where to?” she asked.

“Just go down this street, take a right at the corner and then another left when I tell you.”

Eponine smoothly shifted gears and drove down the street. A silence descended. Eponine’s car smelled like lemons and cinnamon. Cosette wondered if that was what Eponine smelled like or if it was a car freshener. She checked the rear view mirror, finding it empty. No air freshner. Cosette wondered if that meant it was Eponine’s smell. She was still wandering down this train of thought when Eponine distracted her. “You live in a nice neighborhood. Cute house.”

“Thanks,” Cosette said, unsure where she was supposed to go with that. “I like cottages. I don’t need a big house.”

Eponine nodded. “I can see that. You seem like that type of person.” Sometimes when people made those kind of generalizations it irritated her, but from Eponine it sounded like a compliment. Or at least she hoped it was.

“Do you live close to here?”

“No, I live the other direction from school with my brother.” Cosette was taken aback. Once people reached their twenties they didn’t really choose to live with their siblings anymore. Not that Cosette really understood sibling dynamics; she had been an only child despite her longing for a larger family than just her and her father. But in the end that’s probably what made them so close - they only had each other.

“You have a brother?”

“I have a brother and a sister,” Eponine clarified. “My sister used to live with us but she went to university last year.” Her voice was tinged with melancholy.

“You must miss her,” Cosette said softly. Eponine just nodded, a tender smile touching her mouth. Cosette stared, she knew she was staring, but seeing that soft smile wreath Eponine’s face made her hands clammy and she had her heart in her throat. She tore her eyes away, looking at the road ahead. “Oh shit, we just passed it!” Cosette exclaimed, a white hot flash of embarrassment searing through her.

Eponine just laughed, and found a parking spot on the side of the road. Cosette flushed and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, hoping that she wasn’t being too obvious about the fact she had almost missed it because she had been staring at Eponine. The woman was gorgeous, sure, but Cosette wasn’t sure if she even swung her way. And even if she did, who's to say that she would like Cosette? They came from different worlds, had different interest. Eponine probably wanted someone who was tough and skated derby or something. Not Cosette, who knit her friends sweaters and spent her evenings baking in slippers. She shoved the thought aside and got out of the car, joining Eponine on the sidewalk.

They entered the bar, the soft mood lighting of the fairy lights illuminating glints of red in Eponine’s dark hair. Cosette swallowed. She hoped that this bar wasn’t too cutesy. Eponine looked like the kind of girl who was at home in a hole in the wall backwater bar. They found a table towards the back next to some leafy green ferns, and Eponine shrugged off her leather jacket and ordered a Bourbon on the rocks with an ease and surety that Cosette envied. She just ordered a glass of red wine and hoped that her hands weren’t visibly shaking.

Why was she so nervous around Eponine? Maybe because it had been ages since she’d been with anyone, since she’d been attracted to anyone even, or the fact that this was a new job, a new town, a new friend. Her life was in such a turmoil at the moment that she barely knew where to start with her emotions.

“So,” Eponine started as their drinks made their way to their table. “How’s it been? Tell me a little about yourself.”

Cosette laughed. “Where to start? I finished my degree a couple years ago and worked a lot of odd jobs while I tried finding a teaching position. This is my first full-time teaching position and I’m doing sophomore English. What about you? You said you do welding?”

Eponin nodded, setting her glass on the table with a clunk. “Yeah. I wasn’t able to go to the college I wanted, but I always loved doing stuff with my hands so I went to a trade school an hour away and was able to get my certification. Been teaching here almost five years.”

Cosette nodded. “And how do you like it here?”

Eponine shrugged. “It’s alright. I kind of feel like there’s a divide between us in the shop and doing vocational kind of stuff and the regular subjects like math and English and science. I mean it’s almost December and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.” Eponine met her eyes, her gaze penetrating, and Cosette felt her heartbeat pick up. She quickly dropped her eyes, hoping she wasn’t blushing too obviously.

“And I you,” Cosette said, almost at a loss for words. The talking wandered to less work-related things, turning to music, hobbies, and favorite movies. Cosette was surprised by the amount of similarities they had. From their outward appearances, she would have guessed that they had little in common. But as she made her way through her glass of red wine and Eponine made her way through several funny shop stories, she felt herself relax in her presence.

Cosette was shocked when Eponine looked down at her phone and swore. “Shit, it’s late and I need to get dinner started for Gavroche.”

Cosette looked at her own phone and was surprised to see that two hours had flown by. She was both elated and disappointed at how well they had passed the time together. Cosette insisted on paying for the drinks since Eponine had rescued her from apparent distress earlier that day and they headed outside into the brisk chill of the night and the muted sounds of traffic. Dusk was falling, and as they strolled down the sidewalk, Cosette could see them doing this for years to come, and for just a minute, she let herself believe that they would.

Eponine drove her home, the darkness descending just as the silence in the car, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Cosette tried desperately to think of something to say. It felt so much like an awkward first date in that moment that she almost forgot it wasn’t. All too soon, they arrived at Cosette’s house.

“Thank you again so much, Eponine. You saved my ass,” Cosette said earnestly, unsure where to put her hands.

Eponine just laughed. “Anytime. Next time do me a favor and remember to turn off your lights.” Cosette nodded laughing, and Eponine held her gaze for just a beat too long. She wanted to kiss her so badly her hands trembled. To see what those full lips tasted like. Instead, she cleared her throat and hopped out of the truck.

Eponine rolled down the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, the right side of her mouth curling up into a smile. Cosette nodded and waved, not sure if she could trust her voice. Eponine sped away, leaving Cosette to watch her go in the twilight. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

AO3 Link

#please come yell in my inbox about this #it's my first eposette fic #long overdue #so let me know what you think #because I have no idea where the hell this is going #eposette #my writing #this side of paradise #fanfiction #les amis #les miserables #eponine #cosette

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nocancer · 5 years

Text

Tryna by Cancer moon

Before Young T went to bed he poured a glass of water and looked out the kitchen window to his backyard and noted how the snow made 3:00 A.M. look like 6:00 P.M.. Only difference being that if he stepped outside with his glass of water to the seeming twilight he wouldn’t be able to hear the rush-hour traffic like he usually could if it was Friday and 6:00 P.M.. Young T didn’t bother going outside because the snow was still falling a little and it’d be there when he woke up. And the neighborhood would still be silent, as it always was.

Young T woke up and his fan was still humming its white noise which he needed to sleep at night even though it was January and his dad was reluctant to leave the heat on over night. The small fan sat on his dresser and was pointed away from his bed towards his window which emitted a sharper and more blinding afternoon light than what he was used to. He checked his phone for the time, it was about noon - about the time where his parents bedroom door would open and their TV would blast the local news and his persian cat, Jo Jo, would meow at his door from which would force him out of bed to open the door so Jo Jo could jump up on his bed to sleep on his pillow from which he would either start his day or keep doing nothing. This time he laid back down, idly on his bed, with the covers pulled over his head to lessen the effects of his slight cat allergy. Jo Jo had a flat face and was grey and fat, and he occupied the entire pillow. Young T thought of how he wanted to trade lives with Jo Jo.

Young T couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he looked at his phone. He bireifly looked at worldstarhiphop, Twitter, then Instagram.

Then he went to bed with a head ache and woke up in college.

9/27/17 wednesday

Tycho: excuse me, hey, getting along just fine, I see? Yolandra: hey, and yeah, sort of, just studying, whats going on with you T: Nothing, the usual, i guess, being responsible, trying not to offend anyone. Y: Oh but you're so innocent. If anyone's offended its on them, not you. T: But my presence alone, I dont know, like I'm out of place or something. And I just want to tell people, Yeah, so, I know how strange it is, me being here and all. Y: You're a free spirit amongst prisoners. That was my favorite part about getting to know you.

Tycho: After all these years, not for a second did i think you were right for me. And thats why i liked you. Cus I'm crazy. Yolandra: thats okay? what do you mean?, i want to get inside your head again. T: [pause] Most people wouldnt understand. Y: Don't be too cool for school. Im not most people. If I knew what was good for me, I'd have cut ties with you a long time ago. But im a crazy bitch too. Havent you realized? T: Yes. Youre highly psychic when it comes to "free spirits" like me - and you, though maybe, "lost soul" would be a better term for me. Though I dont mind being lost. It keeps things interesting. Anyway, you should spend your energy on solving world hunger than worrying about me. Y: dont be so difficult. catching vibes isnt easy you know? coming for your type. Who knows, maybe youre worth it. Tycho: well, your the first to try me like this. im mysterious for a reason. Yolandra: And do you know why exactly? T: Thats for me to decide. Y: It's so damn frustrating. But I guess some things are better left unsaid. T: Most people wouldnt understand that, what youre saying. Indescribable feelings we know happened but fall short in explaining. That sort of thing. Y: I call those. "You had to be there" moments. Tycho: Honestly i never gave up on you, only myself, thinking you were different from my dream girl. it took months for me to realize that but when i did the only thing i wanted to do was forget i ever met you. Yolandra: than what? T: the rest of these simple people that surround us, they see in a way thats opposite of what i am. Y: how convenient it must be. to blame your problems on people you dont even know. and just say "fuck it." I envy you. T: just my luck haha. of being born into myself, my personality forgive me, i dont mean to be such a downer. thats my ego talking Y: you had to be there T: where? Y: in my memories. T: it matters that much to you? Y: if I could find you in a crowd, just to say something, anything, even if i have to scream it in your ear, then you'd know how much it means to me. Tycho: I'll be waiting for you to say hola.

9/30/17 saturday In the midst of an obnoxious trap beat I remember what my grandpa used to tell me. It's the harsh realities of life that stick with us the most. A dream is only a dream until you make it come true. Never hit a women no exceptions." He would say to a 7 year old me. Now I wish I had the balls back then to tell him that his strict army ass probably never had a dream that went beyond what he already knew. Like revisiting the same shitty cloud of meaningless thoughts every night till you reincarnate into someone who revisits a slightly less shitty cloud over and over until they become someone like me, who lives on the cloud everyone strives to be, forgetting those elvish looking folks of the below who never leave the house except to get groceries. There's comes a point in life where you just gotta be honest with yourself, and say hey, i just dont match the freqeuncy anymore. It's okay. I can still pretend like that one MGMT song, but im fading away. Fuck. I get naseous and imagine a cop coming around the corner which kills my vibe for a second so I take my headphones off, spit on my finger tip, ash the blunt, and walk to my dorm. I'm in water so muddy that the surface is all I have to cling onto. What lies beneath is my past, housing the memories like demons. Of course, her face, would be in the middle. Falling more faintly in detail as I wake up sober and go to sleep high and dream nonsense that somehow doesnt go away like the usual forgotten dream you usually wouldnt give a second thought to otherwise but this morning my head feels foggy and theres a vague recollection of a search going on but I dont know what it's for and my chances of knowing diminish as I go deeper into the day. A search, it's on repeat, like my brain is an actual TV. Thats probably a normal thought to have, though I've never heard it in real words. "Is my brain a TV." I say to myself. if you can call it that. but those take the shape of monsters of which, as if I had no choice, I find myself preparing for so when the moment really matters, I can either go down in a blaze of glory or come out on top like the badass I imagine myself to be. All I know is that I was born and now I have to live.

Maybe because my past is so glaringly depicted onto a person I refuse to acknowledge. All that shit was a dream. The only thing that matters is the present, right? Bill Nye the Science Guy would agree with that. Back in elementary whenever we had a sub for the day, a cart would roll in and thats how you knew. I watched his show in elementary school, when we had a substitute teacher. Those were the best days. I had no worries then, able to speak freely with no inhibitions as if duality had nothing to latch its mechanical claws onto. Wait, I'm thinking about the past again. And thats going way back. Fuck! Okay.. On your feet soldier! That baby momma drama dont fly out here in the real world. out here it's the winners and the losers, haves and the have-nots, thats the way it is.

We're here to endure anxiety. I dont care about this slave shit. I think im gonna drop out. These fucking people bro, I shouldve known better than to come here. Deep down in the recesses of my highly realized capacity for recognizing everyday objects I'm hearing the voice my computer makes. It just so happens that I'm a little different from everyone else. I see things. Feel them. Some are expressed. Others proccessed. Though most get put away for later. These things I speak of is all they'll ever be to Some bad. Some good. But in the end I understand the root cause is nothing and thats where I pretty much exist anyway. In between any and all things, including people. At least that what it feels like. So although I may come off as shy and maybe a bit soft to the average layperson I aint no bitch and I wont hesitate to put my body on the line to make some headway when it comes to cementing my place as a savage demon in the halls of said layperson's memory bank. Someone who is wise would recognize the virtue of my conviction It is only because I must prepare for that singular moment, an unknown point in the fabric of time and space. To where if theyre not careful, a life's worth of energy should be pitted against me as if one were to stand a chance against the power housed within my vessle. Theres no such thing as a polite gesture. Nobody asks me how my day is "going" for no other reason than to relay to me how their own special day is "going". reckoning between a humble acknowledgement that I can never truly grasp the reason for existing and therefor should play my part in keeping the peace, versus pure badass in a world of sheep. And the more I get to know my surroundings, the more I reach erradically for the inherent bliss found within the path of satanism.

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Spmewhere off in the distance, Crermoth sits on a palm tree idly sculpting astral suspensions into a tattered fervor of mesh for working the keys of ineptitude. She is oblivious to her surroundings, not caring for chatty and gossip which she cant seperate between her reality and theirs because she is sensitive and when the the fully recognized sage, Esoh, confronts her about she says she much prefers it that way.

Their balance among them. With the wind at her side, Hojihka refuses the initial preference of her stillness and moves in a nameless precession by the whim of her ancestral birth right. "aaa may-ee soo shay-noo"

Her possession wakes up without a name. a new and more elaborate transposition of jubilee onto each successive indifference. The attention to one area renders the outer confines a vacuum enveloping the excess span unto both of their liable to taken over like a plain, sole, unconscious will. It certainly does its job Crermoth and has become something of a plan b pill thats taken during one of her many unpredictable episodes of self hate and general spiritual torment. One time she told J-Money she was a demon in a matter of factness that still haunts J-Money in moments when he pretends it doesnt bother him.. Reliant upon the interaction of her world and the next. Crermoth normally prefers being to herself on nights like these, that way she can answer any calls at a moments notice. A dimension close enough so that she may assist her friends in earthly manners of which, by the natural law of limitation, those lacking the incessant nobility of the Orisha cannot be bothered to see to themselves, less the tether between her world and theirs be rendered a useless tattered fervor of mesh that gives way to any varitable knock of an over arching brood of usurpment of the mundane frequency. “I need space. I only have but so much light of see to her calling as a being of light, assisting the pieces of herself that we’re lost during the falling. You remember that don’t you?” She says “Of course I remember. But only as a matter of fact. Upon closer reflection I fail to see the relevance of a subtle hunch with no bearings in the present.”

I must know that I’m allowed to be straight up with you, else I run the risk of straying from my calling. If there’s anything I hate more than being ignored its catching myself being lazy to the voices. “She musn’t veer to far.” Esoh said on a mountain.

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The woman wakes up to look around. Store-bought soil, empty bike-rack, office building. "Harder. Think harder. Come on girl." She stands for dignity's sake. A car traces a hilltop in the distance. She raises her cold arms to the sun in defiance of stillness. Nothing is in tune with the nature of her being besides the stale wind of a coming day. "Where are you?" The car freezes as it reaches the horizon, but the sound remains on loop. Whirrrrr A portal manifests abruptly and Elegua arrives on a chariot of skulls. "Erzulie, madame, how nice it is to see you this early in the morning." A whisp of fire cleans her face and the car continues over the horizon. "It really shouldnt be, not like this. Where Im at should tell a lot you know." Erzulie said. "Quite a dense reply to a longtime friend, dont you think" "Hmm, considering how I slept in a bush last night and dont remember a thing. I shouldnt need to explain myself." "No? is the friz on your hair not matching the blood on your knees? I can't tell which." Elegua said. Or is the attitude possessing you as if theres no consequence for ill-manneredness? I cant tell which." So long as one's not so dense up his selfish ass that he aint notice." "Oh so now all a sudden you about the finer things in life? We can switch places less you miss me. Erzulie said. Im only pointing out the obvious." Elegua said. Erzulie replied with silence, forcing life to flash before his eyes. She learned this from her Mother, Darkness. "Attitude is possessing you. I cant tell why but its a poison I dont deserve. I was only trying to help" He continued. "I just dont fuck with being called too early. So long as youre not too dense up your ass to take notice, safe to say i'm in some shit right now." "Clearly. A product of consequence." Elegua said randomly. "Yeah, recognize. Please, for me, baby?" "No more testing your patience, Goddess immortal of justice. Save that for what I came to tell you about." "Take me to cleanliness, saintly promise of wisdom. For im not feeling myself." They left the scene to the past and pondered on the pyramid they had just made with each other. "It's nice to be home." Erzulie said. Flying over the palm trees brought Elegua back to his power. "On the basis of love." Elegua said. The salt-water washed away all glimpses of doubt Erzulie had of her beauty. And she harnessed the pastels of the ocean. Thus, all guilt was abolished and unconditional love was convinced to dance within them. Drying his body under the rays of Amen reminded Elegua of his first words. Long ago, before Time was born. "O Father, you are so brilliant." "Thank you, son. I am the Light" "Then tell me, Father, if you are the Light, and are so brilliant, then why is it you flee from Darkness?" "All I do is my purpose, which seeks to balance harmony with creation. Although it is much more complicated than that. Like always I suppose. I'm afraid you ask me a question that I cannot answer. Here, because you are so curious, I will show you." "I'm ready, Father." Light grew brighter causing Elegua to cry in his recollection of what it felt like to say words. The links in his mind straining to pull in the right words. Not too plain to where the moment would be lost in happen stance, and not too radical so that his manhood could stay irrefutable (to convey meaning.) Then Light disintegrated into everything and Elegua searched for Light ever since. So Elegua went to the crossroads, and prodded Darkness for Light's wherabouts, "I want to relive the the moments before he left for eternity. Where can I find him?" Without a hug or a kiss, she told him to let go of his experience in order to live in the now, "Take his place and move forward. Grow up, your Daddy's gone cus you never did." "How could you say that me? I love you, Mom. Yet all I get is hate. Why are you hiding the truth from me?" "If I don't hate you, then who will? You got so much to learn that my heart breaks into brass. You must leave, understand me? LEAVE, before I do what your Father did and them some. I'm this close. Believe me." With nowhere else to go, Elegua obeyed the commands of his Mother. Although lonely at first, the spirits of the dead related to his despair, and offered to guide him through all the known and unknown realms of Ether, so long as he guided the spirits of the living to his Mother. So that the dead could learn for themselves the origins of their being dead. And when Light came back, they could say "Father, we know of Hate, now teach us Love." Elegua tried telling them that it was hopeless, that his Father was there, just not in the way they imagined, that they we're actually his Father and they had to realize it through an altered perception. but that negativity only made them more adament to their cause which annoyed Elegua into a manic spell of existential irony which persisted during times of war with the Snakes on 5th density. One battle in particular Badly wounded, he pulled his chariot with his arms to the middle of a corn-field on a full-moon during the Solstice, it was there he made a pact with his self, to never be ignorant to the fact that fate was an inescapable constant within all contributors to existence. That the very fabric that distinguishes the dead from the living was comprised of scattered shards of an indestructable essence that attached itself to the spirit-body via fate which is the Father of destiny. That the collective conscious is woven by the thread of Fate, thus binding a common goal, or Destiny, inherent to all beings of both polarities, thus setting in motion the spiral of gnosis, which lends itself to the spreading of keys that open the doors to helping each other fulfill each others Purpose. "I will collect the pieces of my Father so that I may speak with him again as I did as a child. I will never forget you because I love you. You are everything to me, which is all I ever could be. Please, I want to know why you flee in the face of Darkness."

____10/9/17 monday

My pace quickens as I veer away from the crowd onto the handicap stairs. I silently count my steps to give off a pensive, non-assuming vibe. Over by the quad theres crows just walking on the grass. Yet I'm the only one who seems to notice, even from a distance. The busses haul ass down Memorial St. I've learned to always be on alert because I'll never know whats waiting for me when I turn my attention off the floor and become reminded of string theory. Artificial energy, cork boards with grime on the edges, tunnel of dull ends, spongy plywood cielings. as i step with my head down and in every so sudden a demarcation in the bricks, the reptiles answer emails. This is where I'm going. Because my soul chose to live here at some point in time not too long ago considering the relationship between all that the universe has to offer and my general apathy towards said all as in any and all one. Which has become quite of a bore ever since the first week ended I had to come to terms with the reality that friends won't simply fall into my lap like they would if I wasnt such a masochist for being lonely. The row of pillars turn to one and all I see is the contentment in the air of the lobby. In the hallway are casually turned faces which glide about in a linear fashion like the ghost of a lost bride.. I get a side-view of the people afraid to admit that this is far from the paradise we expected it to be. The brochure in our acceptance letters didn't include the drunken nights of another dimension. I'm inside the life of an architect. One who's dead by now, but lives on through his work. I'm not going anywhere, the building would say, if it could talk. And I suppose it can. Because I just had the thought, and nothing is ever truly wrong without another thought to compare it to. But then if buildings could speak existed first, and was allowed to grow and find its place in the universe, then it'd be established enough to not warrant an adversary. But the question remains where, if it existed, was its fate organized before coming into my mind, awaiting my final judgement. Substitute me for a unicellular collective conscious and it seems like we're all dealers of fate her on planet earth of the milky way of the universe of the whatever comes next (should we ever know for sure). he or she deserves all the credit for it manifesting onto the grid of my consciousness, which is a zig zag joint's worth of a high right now. The perfect amount for not giving a fuck while still staying slick enough for witty comebacks. Which wouldn't hurt right now. This building isn't going anywhere. Though I wish it would. Because I dread what I'm about to do How he must have pained to communicate something he could call his own while maintaining a dignified and safe, always safe, because god forgive, well, you know, , putting the pen to the pad, drawing collumns in front of a Victorian fassad Succumbing to authority just to eat with a roof over your head and not freeze your ass off like a homeless freak. Profit margins in the final half of quarter one are lower than 1 standard deviation to what is considered by corporate to be optimal. As of now, the college has no incentive to ship in product from outside sources. All inventory must be stored in house to the buyer's demand. You better not be late.

___ On the parking deck

Tycho: “I had a dream I was on an internet forum. Someone posted the words: “life is an endless hell. With a blurry picture of a street at night-time. Not much different from what’s in front of us. I thought that made sense, until I scrolled down, to see a video looking out the windshield of a vintage rolls royce, coasting along a pacific highway. And the lines kept going. Next thing you know I’m falling down a pitch black waterslide, dreading my destination. If I never woke up I have a funny feeling i know where it was leading.

Preacher: In that instance did you feel the need to repent for your sins?

Tycho: No. that didn’t cross my mind. It was too late at that point.

Miranda: “I used to.

T: What made it stop?

Miranda: Seeing all the happy people around me. And knowing that they’ve been through the same shit. Break-ups, Death in the family, just generally feeling lost.

My heart was broken ”

T: Getting over the mind can be a dark place when it has nowhere else to rest. You can train it to think anything.”

Miranda: True

Tycho: Lately Ive been taking these long drives late at night into the boonies. Just to see where I up. I realized theres so many lives I’ll never know about.

If i wasnt born into money maybe I’d be humble enough to hate myself for even thinking such a thing.

How’d you get out of that?

Miranda:

These know it all professors are getting on my nerves. I fear Im crossing into an abyss I’ll never fully understand. Honestly I can’t fuckin stand these people. What name do I have to make for myself that i haven’t already experienced in the depths of my soul?

Tyco: You know how they try to act like they all official and shit, like I won’t see past it.

Miranda: [agreement] They do that.

Tyco: [stream of consciousness] So I just told her look I know its a rule, but I’m all about learning at my own pace and no disrespect i love her but Mrs. Soso can only go so far in telling me how to write. You can give tips and tricks but at the end of the day, I’ve been developed my writing style.. Like I thought we were done with all this high school shit. Well I didnt say that.

M: And what’d she say?

Tyco: She was like “As you get further into your major 90% of your assignments will be in essay format.. we require full participation “ At this im like she gonna hit me with the book like hell nah THEN outta nowhere She said “However, I also believe in 2nd chances.”. On the outside I was cool but inside I was like “*fist bump* yo i cannot fail outta college like someone watchin out for me idk who but-

Chad: fuck that shiiiiit *holds up white rum in front of street light”

Friend in background: 12! 12! 12!

Abrupt scene change. Camera shows Tyco zoned out. Then police car, as Tyco begins to hide behind the tree hes smoking on.

My black hoodie and phone-call to my dealer will still be with me tomorrow as I do the same thing.

(From a dream 10/23)

Tyco is driving around serving with Shantel when she lights her phone up from the passenger seat and puts the phone to her ear.

Shantel: You are not finna be talkin all that mess on my phone. Be honest with yourself. Don’t lie. You a hoe ass bitch.

?? Caller: Why are you even calling me? I dont give a fuck.

Shantel: Wait till I pull up then and slap the shit out you. Would that be better sweety?

?? Caller: I’m at Kawaii’s 30 deep. Bring your lil boyfriend and see what happens.

Shantel: Try me bitch.

[ The economy sedan turns right on red seemingly without breaking. ]

Tyco: 30 deep huh?

Shantel: With them ratchets.

Tyco: She sounds scared as hell aint nobody sticken up for her like that. You know they gonna talk shit right but soon as we throw them hands they gon be like, I dont know that bitch.

Shantel: nah but she stupid tho like not even worth all that extra

Tyco: We’re going. Wheres that nigga house i’ll waze that shit and we get there we just pop off. Aite?

[Not looking at the road, but to her, coasting down an average 2-lane with box neon trimmed tire shops and drive-thru windows governed stately as immovable beasts of mothership stores lurk behind low-sodium trenches of the new world order’s surveillence agenda for mass poplations en masse. ]

Just follow me. I’m walkin in and gonna start a commotion just bussin and you just break this bottle on her mother fuckin head and we out.

Shantel: haaah what okay

Tyco: You’re gonna fuck her shit up som serious.

Shantel: She talk shit about you.

Tyco: It’s in the stars babe for real.

Shantel: You gonna help me find that bitch?

Tyco: You my fucken queen I love you and I got you.

Neighborhood entrance.

Cars parked for miles.

House identified first glance.

Park.

Car doors..

Hip-Hop

Grass.

Walkway.

Steps.

Porch.

Door opens and yellow tops within the frame.

!! WHERE YOU AT// YALL FAKE AND CANT FINESSEE !!

AAAAAH YOU UGLY DARK SKINNED NIGROS

The caller is sitting on a couch ass to ass with other dudes. Looking stupid.

She never saw Shantel. Who came upon her like The Ring.

She has become a party magnet. It is a Slayer concert now. Nobody knows who’s who. Though Tyco is surely getting his ass beat. He catches of glimpse of Shantel’s fat ass ducking through the doorway and he could die right now and it wouldnt matter.

*GUN SHOT*

FUCK GOIN ON HERE MANE

“This not the place for you bro. - White boy comin up here in my place of business - Tryna pop shit off like you really not a bitch”

Kawaii looks up with his glock-9 extendo at his GD party mostly all gone just like that. The poor girl is still leaking.

“She need to go to the hospital.” Her friend says.

He points the glock at his head. Despair.

“Look around before I kill you.” An invitation.

Tycho: “I sold a 4 oz today after my accounting exam. I could be GD, 74, rock purp. whatever it be its nothing but Respect yo. Got connects with chad and Becky nahmean dog. Could put you on to some numbers they white and they fiends. Please OG.

“How much for a zip.”

“80, gas.”

“Was that yo bitch?”

“yea”

Kawaii: You lyin to me?

“No.”

“She eat your ass?”

“Yeah and bounce on my BIG ASS DICK” Tyco says with autism.

K walks away.

T: they don't even sell Molly bruh

K is you fucken high you dummies. Beat this nigga ass. *Tyco imagines the why the fuck you lyyin vine and remembers the exact moment he realized that wasnt an original song but actually a spin off of a classic throwback jam by the 90s R&B group “Next” in their hit single “Too Close”.. He was driving home from the cafe he used to write high school essays in while smoking a menthol american spirit with the windows rolled down on a spring evening playing KISS 104.1 Atlantas classic jams. Then he realized there was a full 6 minute video of the vine on youtube. After watching it he felt gayer. Thats all it did for him.

Tycho wakes up on living room floor.Terry (random G, on couch): *Hands him note× Kawaii said he's sorry. No hard feelings ya heard dog?

Tyco: I guess thugs act on impulse. *looks at note* and don't count on a gahdamn thing you bitchass motherfuckers. Tyco walks into class with a black eye. The Professor talks about interest loans. Tyco meets Moe after class in parking lot.

*Moe: Waddup

Tyco: It's lemon og I just got in.

Moe: Bet. Those last cookies you got. Bomb dude. It had them frar mother fuckers leanin like they can't handle that purp like that nahmean.*laughs*

Tyco: I got some backwoods you wanna hotbox.

Moe: Yo I'm down.

10/24/17 thursday

____ Last night I decided not to hate myself. The look I get from them doesnt bother me. Really, its a simple sign from nature that I’m used to by now. A wrong impression can sustain the fog of memory, of which I will be seen from the lens of another dimension, with not a care in the world, an angel in disguise. Thats the crux of my life up to this point. To no longer hate myself. But appear as if I still do. The nameless place in our past with no address., one of which even a frat boy can relate to. This invisible standard that’s thrown us into the pits of despair must be addressed. To seperate the real from the fake. Like the others are sleep walking through class fronting like they dont see me. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my third eye, televising scenes of sleep walkers who stay fronting like they dont see me. Walking behind the parking deck where green dumpsters were with my phone to my ear is a feeling that remains within me until I do the same thing over again in a few days. Buying in bulk never appealed to me. And if a 20 a g was the price thered be nothing my lonely ass could do. Fuck this worthless paper, I tell myself.

I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days.

I’m signalling. Though I havent been approached yet.

Figuring that would resolve the look I give other people. I mean, christ, I turned 18 last March. And spent the Summer in a last ditch effort to secure an identity before I made my plays in college. For too long I’ve avoided the call of the light and in return have gotten blank stares.

(SOMEHOW gets wrapped up into a petty conversation with sorirty girl (on top of parking deck.)

Clarissa: I was the only one alone in the entire party.

Tycho: Why didnt you leave?

T: Dont worry I dont wanna know your major.

C; Good cus it keeps changing.

T: You think you know everything dont you? This world aint nothin babe.

C: Why do you say that?

T: What do you wanna know? That I get money? Thats nothin.

Clarissa drifts off.

Hannah: So Stacy’s telling me the banners weren’t in that right place and we’re like an hour away from starting and we still haven’t even got the chairs in order and barely anyone who was suppose to be here has shown up yet.

Tycho: Where were they?

“Well for one, Candace, I dont know whats her problem lately, but shes been gone because her best-friends now telling her she’s not rushing anymore but thats honestly a relief because that girl wheres winged eyeliner and thinks shes better than us.”

Tycho: Oh, I think I’ve seen that girl at the library or something.

I intuit that in order to justify her reasoning for not liking the winged eyeliner girl, that she channeled my very own resonant storm cloud of which I emit silently in the face of vanity..

H: Well you’ll probably see her there a lot more cus shes definitely not with us.

“Okay so thats one.” I say as if taking notes.

“Then Rachel’s out at some charity event that I never even heard of probably with a guy she’s not telling us about which is so frustrating that of all days you pick friday night at the peak of rush to go be a hoe behind our backs.”

“Did she ever show up to the party?”

“Yeah. And she was fucking drunk.” She said as if surprised but not really because this is Rachel we’re talking about, after all.

“Like wasted orrr “

“Damn I didnt know yall got down like that.”

“Umm when youre stumbling through the door and your first words to all the new girls is hallelujah bitches!

She wasn’t with a guy.

“So tell me more about the party. Like was there”

who nobody knows anyway

is that Cheyenne is just out of it because her friends now telling her she doesnt want to rush anymore and for one its like look,

Wait, who’s hannah?

Hannah’s the leader of her sorority.

Ooooh, Okay, I see why now

-Yeah, I mean if word got around that would literally mean she was going around their backs to cover up that she was lying.

> Right. Yeah I hear what you sayin. She’s trying to make it seem as if it never concerned yall in the first place but if thats the case then she dont need to be acting like she got the right to be trusted.

This goes beyond reputation. Manipulating emotions just cus she has none of her own. Conniving biitch. just to get her way goes beyond reputation.

Aint nobody wanna be around that energy.

> So what you tell her?

I get schizophrenic when it comes accepting new ways of being. The person I made him out to be was the perfect cure for my suffering. All those forgetful nights of boredom I knew what I needed all along, but was to scared to do it myself.

------ Frat house halloween party kidnap scene ----

GD shaman prays to shango for power to go out by mantra. Squad in car repeats the same mantra. The power goes out at 1:00 (or peak of the party).

Tycho throws blue flare through the side of the window

at the Tycho must find Chad and lure him downstairs near the door so the squad can get the keys to the room full cocaine and adderal. After looking everwhere he’s no where to be found. He walks in on a couple having with the girl in missionary with devil ears. “Yo chad that you?” Its

(fuckem x3) Music stops from power so he sneaks in wireless speaker in his robot costume and puts it at one end of the room. Squad member 1 will carry bigger wireless speaker and set it down when he storms in. Tycho also brings a timed strobe light to distract people and keep the illusion of the party still going.

Tycho runs down stairs and towards door with chad chasing him. Squad slaps tape and mask on him and carries like a battering ram although theyve already kicked the door.

*Power turns back on*

“Fuck em, fuck em, nigga get out my section

Don’t want to see him, I don’t want to touch him

*waves zippo lighter in front of face so chad can see him through mask*

“Ima count 3 seconds and your dead on 5 if i dont get this combination” says calmly. thus saiyth the lord thy god”

“Three... No mercy”

“Two.. Shall be given unto those”

*gives code*

“One.”

Love takes many shapes and forms.Tycho never opened up to people, hating himself for being incapable of feeling what others felt. He wanted more so he went spiritual. Which his close friends perceived as going off the deep end."Ayy whatsup bro you tryna smoke?""I have a calc exam tomorrow but I'm down after."Aight good luck on your studying tonight and then kill it tomorrow I know you got this calc is your specialty can't say the same for me but that's why you always tutored me haha."Let me know if you need more help. Figuring their was no bounds and he could be whatever, even silent, and experience irony rather than fate. How bland, he thought, to have a life plan and nothing to look forward to. Running drugs would be a necessary chain reaction. The highest elixer exceeding the bliss provided by the very weight he'd be pushing, itd be getting off on defying his own life, leaving spirit his only option. And so like a blackbird his soul seeks experience only in the clearest degree of visibility. Swerving transgressions of lonliness to levy the burdens of contrived responsibilities at societies every turn until his flight patterns veer from the trodden path to and fro the calling of reality in which he desires to preside over as a God of many statures. Untainted by works, head first into the entity of the adversary, of which he is able to predict the situational consequence in only a glimpsing moment before havoc ensues and the final hour is upon him, his loose wings coated with astral charcoal of depravity. Be caught slipping once and he loses the jump until the enevitable program takes its course - an unstoppable relationship between fate and reckoning that must be fulfilled as day turns to night. Once that happens he reverts back to being like the rest of them. Yet to the world, now desolated beyond repair, hed still be alive, exuding a calm presence that something is not quite right with him existing without remorse. The truth is simple enough, a hint just ever so slight as to never be able to cross the threshold of utterance, thus becoming rendered a convinction of self delusion on the part of the unknowing accuser, who by this time hates himself for even thinking badly of such a good guy to make peace with. The collage curtails past the illusion of what is already known and at last the watchers take notice and thus regeneration is able to take place along all the land, allowing for new energy to take the throne of anticipation. One that has harnessed the potential to become anything the wonder puts his mind too. So what if I'm imaginative? Yolandra: I mean everyone's different in their own way. Like yeah the soroitys have a dress code and all that Starbucks and capris. But I don't know. You just have to get know a person for who they are and not how the outside world perceives them to be. T: So what'd you first think of me? Yolandra: Honestly not much anything. You were one of those people who could be anything. But then I overheard you say taurus's are gold diggers and I hated you cus I'm a taurus. T: Oh sorry I really didn't mean it like that but c'mon now I can tell you have a taste for finer things you bougie little.. Boob. *laugh\ haha "you know what I mean" It doesn't bother you? What? That so much could go wrong so quickly? Look, deep down he's telling you his heart lies with getting over and you let him because that's /just what you like about him, how deep he gets. cus he's a sad and selfish individual who was never about loving anything other than vanity. The best thing to do would be to trust his actions, intentions aren't what's important right now. Really, forget about the soul connection. Loves comes through all types of people as long as you're open to receiving them. Those energies. Don't lose yourself in the illusion. Without ever taking credit for what truly matters which should be you. Then your fashion made sense to me. T: I'm so caught up in myself. I mean, it's impossible to know anything else. I'll never get to stand in your shoes. Its just truth. Yet I'm the bad guy. You're not like the other people I've met. T: Yeah I'm kind of loner if you couldn't tell already. I guess that's a good thing.T: Hey it's okay. I get that a lot... Wait what do you mean you guess? Ive found that who evers saying does a 180 in their normalcy. Knowing your even here right now is a good thing. Knowing that you're with me even when im not. Don't you think? Starting out with confidence and ending strong to be lucky if I'm not hurt. Tell me what you want out of this. Sometimes I feel so lame, then I realize how fun itd be to not care. Through the window screen i see parchments and grass blades, this is an image I've sought to ignore for its blandness thinking I was over recognizing such mundane structures. The sunlight made me drunk with non verbal contemplation. I crave this heat when I'm in low spirits. And a breeze when I'm high. My thoughts are channeled from a lonely place (My thoughts come from a lonely place) I've had no choice but to become accustomed to for my own sanity. To work faster and breach that veil of reckonning. So unreachable and enticing at the same time.T When I'm alone, welcome something more than the past if you ever cared to help me. This isn't the only world out there. And even if it was the material would eventually reach infinity. Then a black hole would open or something. Don't quote me on that, science is the hottest thing going right now. It cant hurt to butt in unofficially. As long as no one calls you on it. The universe molds to your confidence. That's another story. At the end of the day, I have too much pride to be a scientist. The God they're serving calls for a lot of self sacrifice. A self that ignores emergency when called to speak. A self i'm not prepared to lose. "Why are you here again, nothing will change, you're gonna be quiet like last time" any handle on reality I had during the sun rise flees like an ex girlfriend into the night. I'm not prepared to lose. Anxiety is that humid feeling you get when roughnecking the time away. Jaded peripherals, internet browsing, and fading friends initiate a color spectrum so cruelly vivid in its inability to be shared with the CVS cashier who looked at you wrong because you bought 3 4oz bottles of robitussin. A man who couldnt care to see the streets, stop signs, and traffic lights. Man is a slang term we use when caught in the moment. Of which matrix programming loves to grasp onto. --- 10/25/17 wednesday So here I am enjoying a piece of lackluster nothing for the sake of something I've agreed to experience in a past life I can't even remember but somehow must make amends to as if its an actual concrete thing I can touch and make sense out of without caring to ponder how life puts us in these type situations like getting your hair done a new way and meeting a friend of a friend superficially without ever following up like aight word up bro I feel you by the way hows life and what's the special fact I should become one with in this moment while not thinking too much in to things or else id be alone as if we're not alive under the stars for any other reason than to be happy but still to me that becomes too much like a flash in time rather than something meaningful because then sex would have to be our purpose for being here but you and I both know it's more complicated than that so we look into it via memories and realize the journey was brighter than the reward as in I don't remember the actual sex part but rather the day as a whole with stained glass sprinkled in on a film reel to push the past into something real and unexplainably alluring to the self of which we projected this light onto in order to perhaps know in advance maybe how to repeat this metaphysical phenomenon for a second time because we're not quite there yet although at this rate if seems that to finally reach a state of thereness would mean we wouldn't be able to be here right now having this conversation like a building block struck from below or a house of cards we have to keep faith that every moment plays its part because we had an emotion for it and therefore couldn't be rendered to nothing in a wreckless attempt force it all together rather let each tile compliment it's neighbor and bypass the need for destruction by allowing enough caring energy to flow through that filter mechanism within you that deems lifes moments as worth remembering or forgetting and pretend you never heard about forgetting and avoid it like the plague because everything that ever was is depending on you to go forth into righteous so that gods original intention for letting go of unwanted baggage be synthesized within your vessel of upgrades intelligence so that the journey can still be appreciated only this time without th deceptive veil of the end. to question the little things that somehow don't mean much but at the same time appear to us daily as conduits for good fortune and thats what we must uphold ___ 11/2/17 thursday

I you and me playcated on a surface of stones that match our longing to search in the wrong places. Convenient are we done such a conceivable time that is time which is also time because what more can be said other than us winding down a fire escape to an inexplicable hatch sitting like paper mache on our transformative spiritual natures. Gone already but not forgotten just make sure to take the negative side of every situation involving 1 or more parties so as to make sure the rythym is in order because you can't go wrong with challenging the status quo of an area you're not suppose to be in even if that seems too easy and superficial it's the right choice because even the idea of rebellion as a bad thing must be able to project into a physical thing prompt for examination so secrets may be revealed. Wouldn't you know i stopped believing in faith due to its redundancy of chasing metaphysical strings too far out for us to put into words and isn't that the source of all our angst. Depraved of propositional phrases and elemental tables it's all so clear to me now. Casandra had a bag and Mikey had his sneakers in the forefront like a low hanging fruit but of course they had personalities that weren't so easy to see unless the hard work of interfacing came into the equation. Lets judge people based on judging for the sake of basing ourselves onto something not within our realm of reality. Perception is a hard question i think maybe inanimate objects could tell us a thing or two. Low pressure sodium lamps.Documentorial lecture hall amps failing to reach the end of the pyramid turned 90 degrees away from its focal point. May disease not reach our unexplainable selves if ever they may inhabit our temporary vessels like a friend who has no friends but you and wants desperately to get along with others but is attached to your ways. Are we in hell? What can our astral travels tell us about signaling locations with Etheric marks of time dialation. Things are what they are by defintion or they wouldn t be things however stepping the observer up a notch sets in motion cancer to grow from the singular notion that we ourselves separate on a cost of lightening our load. I am partly responsible for this mess we have made. Pulling my hair out in thin strands so as to not make a difference. Some people just don't understand what it means to be so far gone yet in a place of enchantment that lets us know we're not alone as Michael Jackson plays on the ham radio and Wikipedia says the song was written by r kelly. I'm a solitary young man, joined at the seams complacency and red-ridden vanishing points to a line of sight I'd rather not identify with if I had a choice. I'm seriously considering becoming rich and famous despite others already forcing me to. I guess eventually my spirit will give in as my soul looks from a distance and says what a fool I am then goes about his day. You can't be like the rest of them no matter how hard you try. Thinking on the sensualities you avoided after this rap shit led you no where. The palace at the height of creation where Jesus stopped and stared to collect his thoughts before he kept going when his alarm rang as his slave bending consistency tracked the new melinnia into a moldy piece of sandstone cheese the better of which tasted nutty with fruity notes and 80% abv shards of liquid glass on the throat thatd make even an immortal weep a shy tear or two. The pigs down in Mississippi feel things we can't understand in their slaughterhouse decrepit and forwarned in a musk ridden air flow that's non existent to hypocritical angels who were supposed to stop atrocity but opted to sit on their ads and play virtua tennis all day. Oink says the pig. Hee haw says the donkey. Give me life says the God and there on the 30th night fags came to tell the story on their faces. The bag lady told them to shut up and stop whining but they wouldn't listen though they lost their ability to speak. Goodness gracious me oh my great balls of fire. Great balls of ball you are the Lord of my lonely century in this dimension I took awareness to when I allowed you into my heart space.And then I left asking my self: Who is this I?

755559888a

Let’s stand for a while and think about the dastardly ways we have gone under the waters and flew away from temptation. Have us saying isnt it so pretty to be in something and have that to fall back on due to the struggles of forgetting the place we come from which didnt always have it out for us this bad in refusing us of inconjunctions we can at least point to and blame our problems on saying “See! There, I told you so. That’s why we cant find our beginning!” And we’ll keep toilling the fields as halflings saving up for a chance to leave the very universe we serve. “So thats more like it. Finally something I can get my flows on to” Shelly the alien said. “The Stars dont have to like you just because you see them. They have their place and so do we” Gerald said. “Oh but they do.” “How do you know?” “Well for one they always shine bright at the most oppurtune times, like when I’m feeling down about the part of myself that conveinently seems to escape me just when I need it most. If that be so then put me on to something else and that’ll do just fine.” “Perhaps you're not as big as you thought ” Gerald held up his hand to salvage what was left of the dissolving psychic barrier between them. An invisible giant with an ocd issue. For now he could only listen. “No im not here to choose and thats exactly why Im not afraid to go where you can’t. Having the courage to admit your wrongs requires as much energy as universal rotation itself - a force which exists beyond our pleaidien awareness. ” “ But Shel- Okay whatever” Gerald paused and rolled the horizon through his scaly fingertips. “Keep calling on the unknown and you might get lost because it’s been there forever and sometimes Look, Shelly, no offense, you know I love you, but your awareness has no filter on what representation it can cling onto like danger isnt a reality to you. Me and Dazel always had to look out for you and thats just in this world what makes you think you can take on things you cant even see? “But do you believe in me? Anyone can say they love me. I’ve been hearing that my whole life. So much that it holds the same meaning as “um” does in conversation. Is that really the final conclusion we have at the end of the day? That you love me? Besides, I dont think you really meant that.”

“Here goes Miss Type-1 personality again. Always needing to label circles into squares, stars into gods, this as that, out of an inability to cope with insecurity. Leaving the rest of us as unwilling participants.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S WRONG IN NATURE?” Shelly bawled.

The beach of Temofose was out of walking distance from the orange cottage they grew up in with there Mom. When they were young it was somewhere theyd go when they had nothing else to do. Euweu Sister Beach was the brighter of the two, but now too populated for their liking. Temofose is less frequented by other families and polluted by cargo ships and a lack of open views but as they stood there a semblence of twilight through the holographic cages offered closure to the purpose of them arguing in the elements about a timeline Shelly was going to step into And no matter what argument he could put forth, Gerald thought of it fruitless unless he spoke from his heart, a heart of which Shelly was currently taking the place of, so that he could not use it against her. “Shelly, I just hope you can understand how I dont want to let you go.” “I’m sorry you feel that way. But it’s my choice. Have a good njght Gerald. I love you” She said as she went into darkness.

Summer Break 2018

As a street light exploring strip malls, I am a linoleum tile on top of a trapezoid emitting frames of rave scenes. Heres where I find myself walking through last nights dream of the gang member selling duck pussy then getting assaulted by a pizza guy and a cop. Alone after those nights. Seems love was never meant to be expressed but felt. I look inside to see if I’m about to die, seeing diamonds mixed with sky. Materializing in the backdrop of my memories. Now I know why.

Now I know.

Then a wren on the fence manifests when it needs to. The perspective pyramid is that I pleaded for a higher calling. There’s nobody bohemian as me. One day I’ll take this civic off the road and escape into my sacred grove. If only I wasnt such a bitch.

I carry my single briefcase through the airport parking lot. I’m hot and out of breath. Everyone watching me. I can read their thoughts but not my own. They say look at the guy who isnt me but is still conscious enough to move his vessel.

The a/c runs down to the end of the terminal, but my spirit is squared by the stores selling vain material. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my mind’s eye televises scenes too chaotic to put into words. Walking through customs is an event to be remembered, I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days. I board the flight to say finally I am my own religion. If I was flying over africa I’d see bon fires, but over Georgia I only see street lights. Thinking how absurd that they will speak of me as crazy. Others will listen. A vibration through these amber aisles to look no further than my destiny. Because everyone has their destination is the way it goes. I refuse. I’m tired of being a number. Atlanta had its place. Now I’m homeless in Tokyo. This is the not-so perfect end to the chapter planned out for me by the higher power. Not-so bad neither.

Save me. I’m on the other side now.

#chapter 1 #short-story #novella #atl streetz #cancer moon #tryna

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