#and I’d accidentally left jewellery and my watch at hers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theflyingfeeling · 2 years

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you're a dog person. i'm a cat person. the solution? get one of each

That's absolutely Aleksi and Niko, starring Rilla and Rommi 🐶🐱

The only solution! 👌

Sorry in advance, for Aleksi and Niko don't actually interact until the very end, but I hope the interactions before that make up for it! 🤭 (Probably not what was expected, but this is what you'll get nevertheless 😅)

(1466 words)

“Rilla, no!”

Rilla, yes! the puppy’s eyes seemed to say when she looked up at Aleksi while chewing on one of his sneakers.

“Stop eating my shoe, you little devil…and the rug. And Joonas’ bracelets!”

“No, I’m in heaven!” Joonas pouted as he sat on the floor and watched Rilla climbing on his lap and starting to nibble the jewellery on Joonas’ wrist.

“But Niko said I can keep her only if she learns to behave,” Aleksi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Since seven o’clock in the morning, so far Rilla had peed inside twice, pooped under the kitchen table once, destroyed the squeaky toy bunny Joonas had brought her, not even touched her food but eaten the slice of cucumber Aleksi had offered her off his sandwich with great appetite, swallowed a random piece of paper she had found on the floor, attempted to eat small rocks when Aleksi had taken her outside, and barked at a little kid who had stopped to aww at Rilla with her mother on the other side of the fence. In addition, she had been startled by her own reflection on the big bedroom mirror, more or less accidentally splashed the water in her water bowl all over the kitchen, and cried behind the door while Aleksi was in the bathroom until he let her in. Niko had left the house early, so he had missed the chaos unfolding, but Aleksi doubted any of that fitted his definition of “good behaviour”.

“That’s just his usual trash talk, you know,” Joonas chuckled and did nothing to stop Rilla from biting the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“He seemed pretty serious, though. He wasn’t exactly pleased when she chewed a hole in his favourite Vans.”

“Did a favour to us all,” Joonas reassured Aleksi, smiling at the puppy who had moved on to gnawing Joonas’ sleeves. “But…are you sure it’s a good idea to get a dog and a cat at the same time?”

Aleksi frowned; for a few serene seconds, he had managed to forget about how Niko would arrive with the new kitten any moment now, when the whole house looked like someone had turned it upside down and given it a good shake before putting it back on its foundations.

“No,” Aleksi admitted, “but Niko had read somewhere that it’d be easier if they get used to each other from a young age.”

It must have its perks, Aleksi thought, but at the same time he was terrified of the holy mess the two baby animals would cause in their lives. Would the cat let Rilla sleep in their bed, for instance?

Would Niko, after the cat had moved in?

“Well, as much as I’d like to see the look on both Niko’s and the kitten’s face when they see this,” Joonas gestured at the current wreckage in the living room, “I gotta go back to work now. I’ll come see you guys later, when the mutts have settled in.”

“Wish us luck,” Aleksi smiled faintly, holding back grunting Rilla who wanted to run after Joonas.

“Woops, there they are already,” Joonas yelped as he peeked through the front door window. “Good luck!”

Once Aleksi had made sure the door through which Joonas had left the house was securely closed and locked, he let go of the puppy, who immediately ran to the door and left a few visible claw marks on its wooden surface. Realising Joonas would not return, she hurried back to the living room and jumped on Aleksi’s lap.

“How could he not want to keep you?” Aleksi scratched the behind of Rilla’s ear, making her back foot stomp in rhythm with the scratches.

Then, faster than Aleksi’s reflexes, the spider plant Joonas had given them up for adoption attracted the Rilla’s interest, and with the determination of a 10-week-old puppy, she chomped a mouthful of its leaves.

“Rilla, NO!”

His command came far too late, for less than half a second later, the flower pot was on the floor with a loud crash.

Niko smiled fondly at the white ball of fur sleeping on his lap.

“Are you gonna go in or shall we sit here the whole day?” Tommi’s question interrupted the tender moment.

“I just don’t have the heart to wake him up! Look at him!”

“Yes, he is still as cute as he was ten seconds ago when you last asked me to look at him,” said Tommi, kind enough to at least try to hide his obvious amusement.

“I think he’s actually managed to become even cuter,” Niko argued. His heart melted in his chest when the kitten yawned.

“Did you already come up with a name for little fella?” Tommi asked and petted the satiny kitten fur.

“Not yet,” Niko answered. He was supposed to think of one while they drove back home from the cat breeder, but somehow his brain had gone completely free of thoughts other than tiny and soft the moment he had seen the kitten being brought to him.

“You should name him after me,” Tommi stated, “for my crucial input in bringing him home. Who else out of your friends would you have trusted with such a responsibility?”

Tommi made a valid argument there; for starters, Joel was a little afraid of cats – and practically anything, if you asked Joonas – whereas Joonas’ eyes would have been 90% of the time on the cute little baby animal and 10% on the road. Olli, on the other hand, would’ve maybe remembered to pick Niko up sometime next week.

“You’re right. I’ll keep it in mind, big guy,” Niko smiled and gave Tommi’s arm a fist bump. “Thanks for coming with me. I really hope this whole thing will work out.”

“You’ll make it work,” Tommi winked. “Now get the hell out of my car, I have things to do and places to be.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiine,” Niko sighed, his heart almost breaking when the kitten lifted his head and began observing his surroundings with sleepy eyes, having been woken up prematurely from his nap as Niko climbed out of Tommi’s Peugeot.

“Swing by one of these days. I’ll get you beer.”

“You better,” Tommi grinned before Niko slammed the door shut and sent Tommi off to his Tommi business.

He turned around to see Joonas standing on their front porch.

“Ohhhh no, it’s too tiny!” Joonas pouted the second his eyes spotted the sleepy kitten in Niko’s arms.

Now that is an appropriate reaction, Niko thought, his baseline for the comparison being the respectful nod Tommi had given upon meeting the kitten for the first time.

“Oh, poor baby, Rilla will absolutely eat you alive,” Joonas spoke to the kitten in the embarrassing baby-talk voice he always adopted whenever he saw something even remotely cute.

“We’ll see who will eat who. I have a feeling this little guy is gonna be a feisty one,” Niko smirked, proudly reminiscing how the kitten had mercilessly taken his revenge on the fly that had buzzed by a little too close to his face when Niko had watched the kittens play in the backyard of the breeder’s house.

“From your cat, I’d expect nothing less,” Joonas conceded, giving the kitten one more scratch under his jaw before waving his goodbye. “Gotta run now, have fun!”

‘Have fun’ sounded suspiciously ominous to Niko, and he stopped to stare at the front door for a minute before he’d go in, wondering what would be waiting for him inside.

Verily, his fear was not in vain; already in the hallway he noticed a wet spot on the rug that he hoped was just water (never mind the fact Rilla’s water bowl was nowhere to be seen), and tiny shreds of newspaper were scattered here and there as he walked down the aisle towards the living room. There he found more signs of devastation: a broken flower pot, the white fillings of what used to be a stuffed bunny by the looks of it, another newspaper with a puddle of pee on it, a flat toy ball, and some other scrap Niko quite couldn’t identify sprinkled all over the floor.

In the middle of it all there was Aleksi laying on his back, a blissful smile on his face and a sleeping dachshund puppy on his stomach, and Niko could not imagine a more endearing sight.

“You’re home!” Aleksi’s smile widened as he looked up at Niko and the kitten. “We’re taking a nap, come join us!”

With a silent laugh and a shake of his head, Niko sat down on the floor next to Aleksi and lay on his back, placing the still sleepy kitten on his chest.

Having found a comfortable position, Niko pressed a kiss on Aleksi’s cheek.

“Yes, We’re home.”

#blind channel #blind channel rpf #blind channel fanfiction #domestic fluff by theflyingfeeling #yes this is partly unrealistic lol #for starters irl niko would probably not have brought the kitten home in his arms #(but in a carrier instead)#and secondly there is no way rilla would not have waken up when the door opened again #however her falling asleep in about five seconds is pretty much exactly how puppies do it lol #i was gonna write one more scene where the four of them would cuddle in bed later that evening #but i thought this ending was quite wholesome already so you're gonna have to imagine it yourselves 💓🐶🐱

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joshjacksons · 3 years

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Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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lilmissbeanie · 4 years

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Navigation Haikyuu Masterlist

Toru Oikawa x F!Reader Song ~ Marry Me by Jason Derulo Genre ~ SFW Fluff Warning - Swearing, hinting at smut. Word Count ~ 3.3K

Part 1 | Part 2 <you are here> | Part 3

I have changed Iwaizumi wife’s name since Wedding dress to Emiko it was Mako or Miko I can’t remember now :’) this one did start leaning towards smut but I stopped myself, I’m not ready for that yet!

Y/n and Toru had returned to Argentina a few days after Emiko's and Iwaizumi wedding, they were still talking about how beautiful the day was.

"Oh, Toru! Emiko just looked so stunning!" Y/n gushed as she fluttered around the kitchen, making dinner. Chuckling as he watched her, he loved watching her cook. She did it with such grace even if the kitchen always ended up a bomb site.

"Baby girl, you know you don't have to use every single, pot, pan and piece of kitchen wear we own right?"

Shrugging, she pulled the milk bread rolls out of the oven, placing on a cooling rank. Watching out the corner of her eye as Toru crept closer, reaching out for one of the rolls before he could even touch one a wooden spoon flew over and whacked him across his knuckles.

"Y/n! That hurt!" He whined, rubbing his knuckles.

"You just watched me take them out of the oven." She scolded him waving the spoon in his face pointedly. "Sometimes I wonder if your my boyfriends or if I'm just your babysitter."

"I love you too, baby girl." He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind pulling her securely against his chest, as buried his face in the crook of her neck. It was the little things like this that made her happy, the little touches, the way he would brush her hair from eyes, it always made the butterflies erupt in her stomach. After three years of being together, they still had the butterflies and fireworks, the fire that would ignite in her belly when he said her name. "Trust me, I'm definitely your boyfriend, or do you need me to remind you?"

"Perhaps I do." Y/n winked at him over her shoulder, which caused him to growl spinning her around and trapping her between the counter and his body. His molten brown eyes held an intense gaze, the tip of his tongue darting out over his bottom lip before his head dived down, locking his lips with hers in a searing kiss. This kind still made Y/n toes curl after all this time, damn he was a good kisser, he always had been, it wasn't too rough or soft, but without fail every time Toru kisses her it would always be passion taking his time, he will never rush. Toru Oikawa would always pour all his love and emotion into every kiss. He wanted Y/n never to forget just how much he loved her. His left hand cupping her cheek as he continued the slow sizzling kiss, he loved when he pulled away from her that she chased after his lips for more.

"How long till dinner?" He questioned cheekily at her dazed, breathless look. He loved that he still had that effect on her. When she saw the proud look on his face, she didn't answer. Y/n just wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back down into another heated kiss shocking, giving her full control. It was deep as their lips danced together. Her tongue had snuck into his mouth, running it against his before pulling away.

It was her turn to give him a proud look even though her heart was still beating rapidly in her chest from his kiss. The red tint to his cheeks made him look even more handsome. She planted another delicate kiss on his cheek before slipping past him she went over to the slow cooker she put on this morning before she left for work.

"I'd say ten minutes, I just need to cook some green beans, and we'll be good to go." stirring the bœuf bourguignon, before tapping the wooden spoon against the side of the pot, removing the excess juices before putting the lid back on.

"Wonderful, I'm just going to take my contacts out, and I'll lay the table." Kissing the top of her head before smacking her ass, "Toru!" the grin grew over his lips as he heard her squeal from the contact as he headed towards the bathroom.

Once inside and the door shut, he whipped out his phone. He quickly called back the number he missed a call from, so glad it was on vibrate in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mateo it's me Toru Oikawa, you called is everything okay? Sorry I couldn't answer before."

"Oh Mr Oikawa, yes, yes everything is perfect. I was calling to say everything is ready for you. You can come and collect it tomorrow."

"That's great news. Thank you, Mateo, I shall see you tomorrow." Oikawa couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips, he said goodbye before hanging up the phone and calling Juan.

"Good evening Blue Beech, Juan speaking how may I help you?"

"Juan, hey its Toru, Friday at eight pm."

"One bottle of Cristal and her favourite table. I'll have it ready."

"Thank you." And just like that, everything was set in motion. Taking his contacts out, he slipped on his glasses and ran his fingers through his hair, letting it fall naturally against his forehead.

He sent a quick text to Iwa saying everything was falling into place and it was going to happen on Friday.

"Hey, baby girl, I thought maybe we could go out for dinner on Friday. We haven't been to Blue Beech in months since you were so busy with helping Emiko with the wedding and me with training." Toru said as he grabbed the cutlery from the draw and taking it set up on the table on their apartment balcony as Y/n followed after him with two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"It has been forever, and I am craving Moules, are you sure you'll be able to though? Your practices have been late recently."

"For you, I'll always make time. Don't worry. I'll call Juan tomorrow and book it for eight then you can come home and have plenty of time to get ready." He smiled at her as he pulled the cork from the bottle, letting it breathe a little.

"Okay if you're sure." Y/n said before disappearing back inside to get the bread and plates of food.

"French tonight I see."

"Yep," She grinned as he poured her a glass. Toru loved her new passion for cooking food from everywhere. Y/n was obsessed with French food at the moment. It was a different recipe every night. His favourite so far was bouchée a la Reine, well her's as well, Y/n complained though it was never as good as the one she had on holiday in France with her family back in high school.

The days flew past in a blur, Friday rolled around quicker than expected, once five a clock rolls around Y/n was out of her office door in a flash excited to go out to dinner was Toru. At her favourite restaurant Blue Beech, it was a fancy place but with Toru being a pro volleyball player and Y/n was an up and coming interior designer they could more than afford it.

She walked through the door around half five after stopping at the dry cleaners to pick up her favourite turquoise dress. Jumping into the shower, the second she got home as she knew Toru would want one when he got back from training at half six. Washing her hair with her peach-scented shampoo and conditioner, before moving on to her raspberry body wash. Groaning when she realised she should shave as well, it wasn't bad but the hairs where beginning to return.

Wrapping the towel around herself before wrapping her hair up and heading into their bedroom taking a seat at her vanity, rubbing the excess water out of her hair, before grabbing the hair drier. Running her fingers through her hair as the hot air blew through her h/c tresses, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of the warm air. It wasn't until a soft hand pried her fingers away from the device taking into his own hands.

"Hey, baby girl," Toru said, leaning down and kissing her shoulder blade before continuing to dry her hair for her.

"Hello, my love," Y/n hummed in reply eyes closing once again feeling him massage her scalp. Once it was all dry, he turned off the hair direr back on the hook. "Thank you." Gentle eyes met in the mirror.

"Imma take a shower." Planting a kiss on the top of her before he disappeared out of the door. Watching him as he went Y/n just smiled after him. Switching on her curling wand as she waited for it to heat up Y/N slipped on her dress before she began to do her light make up, matching her eye shadow to her sliver jewellery she was planning to wear that matched her turquoise knee-length a-line dress with a square neckline.

Toru reappeared not long after Y/n had finished her makeup and was moving on to doing her hair, he slipped on a pair of black slacks, with his favourite fitted turquoise blue shirt that reminded him of his Seijoh days and gave him that extra confidence boost he was going to need. His head flicked in the direction of the giggling, where he found his other half sat curling her hair with bitting her lip looking at him through the mirror. When spotted her matching turquoise dress, he couldn't help but chuckle himself.

"I can wear another shirt if you like," He asked as he wandered towards her, shirt hanging loose on his shoulders where he hadn't buttoned it up yet and his chiselled abs and muscles on full display for Y/n to see, she would never get tired of that sight.

"No, it's fine, I think it's cute how we accidentally match." Y/n said as she unravelled the last piece of hair, she was curling. Before she started to pin half back and grab the can of hair spray.

"Give it here," He slipped the can out of her hands and set her hair in place. "There, beautiful as always."

They both finished getting ready, and Y/n slipped out to the cloakroom to grab the super comfy black heels. While Toru opened the top draw of his dresser and grabbed the little black velvet box that was hidden in amongst his ties. He tossed the box up with a grin before slipping into the pocket of his slacks. Grabbing his jacket from the bed before noticing Y/n jacket was there too, lying them both over his arm before going to look for Y/n.

He found her by the front door going through her handbag, making sure she had everything. Mumbling to herself, saying what was in her bag.

"Ready to go, baby? The Taxi is here."

"Yep, I just need to grab my coat."

"I got it. Come on, or Juan will be mad we are late."

"No, he won't he loves me." Y/n winked as they walked down the steps of their apartment block and getting into the Taxi.

"Y/n, Toru, Welcome back! It's good to see you both again," Juan cheery voice carried over to them as the pair stepped through the entrance of Blue Beech.

"Hello Juan," Y/n smiled at him, Toru giving him a nod, as Juan took their jackets.

"Your usual table is ready for you." Juan guided them through the sea of tables, and people they were seat at their regular table on the balcony under the heat lamps, the tabled was laid up just as beautiful as always, the cutely sparkling to perfection, the crystal glasses twinkled under the fairy lights.

"I'm loving the fact you two are matching." Juan gushed over them as he passes the menus.

"It was by pure coincidence, thank you, Juan." Y/n laughed as her head dived into the menu.

"I will grab you a bottle of the Picpoul de Pinet." Smiled as he disappeared to fetch their usual bottle of wine.

"Ooo, Toru they have the moules on the menu."

"Get whatever you like sweetheart." He said, reaching over to grab her hand that was on the table as he looked over the menu.

"Are you ready to order?" Juan questioned as he poured their wine and water.

"Yes please, Juan, I shall have the Crab and prawn cocktail to start followed by the moules." Y/n replied, passing the menu back to the waiter as he turned to Toru.

"I shall get the scallop tartlet followed by the lobster please." Handing back his own menu. He was starting to feel nervous now, the time was approaching he planned to ask her after the main course while they had a break before pudding. He wasn't going to let on that he was nervous though, he relaxed, and the pair fell into a natural conversation about their days and how work was. They thoroughly enjoyed their meal, Y/n devoured the moules like they were going out of fashion, Juan had brought her over extra fries for the white wine sauce without her even asking, he just knew her that well with how often his favourite couple came to the Blue beech.

"I'm just going to pop to the ladies, I'll be right back." Y/n smiled as she kissed his check walking pass him running her hand over his shoulders, he caught it, planting a kiss on her knuckles. When she was out of sight he sighed in relief, she had flawlessly timed her bathroom break, he had a moment to collect his thoughts and called Juan over.

"It's time." Juan's eyes lit up, and he nodded running off to get the champagne and have it ready on the table for when Y/n reappeared.

"My pretty boy, why do we have champagne?" Y/n questioned as she retook her seat, giving him a questioning look "And Cristal at that. Toru, what are you planning?"

He smiled, the little velvet box twirling in his fingers under the table as he stood up and went to her side,

"Y/n, my love, my other half, my queen." He began has he got on one knee, he watched as her eyes widen and a gasp slip past her lips as her hand rose to cover them. "I knew from the second that Emiko introduced us all the way back in high school that you would be the one I would fall so deeply in love with, you laughed at my jokes all that night, sat and talk about aliens and conspiracy theories with me. I love the way your e/c eyes sparkle with excitement when you are doing something you love, I love the way that when you smile at me, I still get those butterflies when I kiss you it's like fireworks exploding, I love the way you snuggle into me in your sleep."

His tender loving smile also reflected in his eyes as they locked ith her joyous tear-filled ones, "I love coming home from a long day of training to find you there on the sofa watching some kind of trash on TV or cooking the most delicious meals, the way you listen to me complain about everything that went wrong that day and not every saying, just letting me rant as you always run your fingers through my hair. I want to come home everyday to you but I want it to be with you as my wife,"

Toru popped the velvet box open showing the blue topaz gem sat on the platinum ring, the gem was surrounded by diamonds, "So will you please, make me the happiest man ever and marry me?"

"Yes, Toru, I would love to marry you!" She flew out of her chair, tackling him to floor as the tears of happiness flowed down her cheeks, neither of them paid attention to the crowd watching them and clapping. Juan had been taking photo's on Toru's phone as he had asked him too. Standing up, Toru slipped the ring on her left ring finger before cupping her face and pulling into a deep romantic kiss.

"Congratulations you two!" The pair pulled away at the voice gawking.

"You finally got the balls to do it then, huh Shittykawa."

The newly engaged couple just stood there gaping like fishes at their best friends.

"W-what are you doing here?" Toru said, pulling Iwa into a hug as Y/n and Emiko gushed over the stunning ring.

"Did you really think that we would miss you proposing to Y/n, we got you together we need to see you propose to her. I recorded the whole thing so you can always remember it, Emiko brought her camera, so she got loads of professional photo's of you both too."

"Thank you." Toru felt the blush form over his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck, he glanced over at this fiancee who was excitedly talking to Emiko, as they looked over the photos on the camera. "How did you know we would be here?"

"It's Y/n's favourite restaurant, of course, you would bring her here. The last time we visited, all Y/n could do was rave about how much she loved this place and how it was her favourite restaurant" Iwaizumi scoffed, shaking his head.

"I thought you two were still on your honeymoon for another week, how come you're here and not Italy?" Y/n and Emiko had joined the boys again snuggling into their sides, both of them had their rings on full display as they rest there hands on the partner's chest, proudly showing off that they had managed to bag these incredibly handsome men for the rest of their lives.

"Oh, when I got the text from Loserkawa the other day saying everything was, planned for Friday cancelled the rest of Italy and we booked the first flight to Argentina, we wanted to be here for you just like you were for us when we got engaged." Emiko explained, "We'll be in Argentina for the rest of our honeymoon."

"Well, shall we all finish dinner together?" Toru offered, "Juan, can you please make this a table for four our dear friends will be joining us, oh and grab two more champagne glasses."

The four enjoyed the rest of the evening, drinking champagne, eating desserts and celebrating the event that took place, they laughed at the fact that Y/n had tackled Toru to the floor. Emiko took more photo's of them on the beach, showing off the ring and some engagement photo's so the pair could put it on their social media, Y/n had quite the following because of Toru, and they were very excited to announce it, they also wanted some to send to their parents. Y/n favourite picture was the one on the beach with the moon behind them, reflecting off the water. Toru had his arms wrapped around Y/n waist, and Y/n was cupping his face, the ring sparkling under the starlight, as they kissed, there was one where their foreheads were leaning against one another. Soft smiles of pure love spread across their lips as they stared into one another's eyes.

Laid in bed together that night, naked bodies tangled together after a slow passionate session of lovemaking, Y/n head was rested against his chest as she stared at her ring.

"Do you like it?" Toru asked as he watched her hypnotised by the ring, as he played with her hair.

"Like it? I love it Toru, it's stunning thank you." She said as she sat up, letting the sheet slip from her body as she straddles him smirking at him, as she leaned down trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up his chest to just below his earlobe "So much so I think you deserve a treat." She whispered into his ear before nibbling on the shall. His hands slid up her thighs as his breath hitched in his throat, knowing exactly where this would lead.

Part 1 | Part 2 <you are here> | Part 3 Navigation Haikyuu Masterlist Discord

©️ All content belongs to lilmissbeanie, do not copy, edit, repost or translate.

#fluff #haikyuu! fluff #haikyuu!!#oikawa #oikawa fic #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #seijoh #aoba johsai #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa toru x you #oikawa toru x reader #toru oikawa #beanie🏐#beanie✍#beanie💕#beanie🌸#beanie🎶

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tiliamericana · 3 years

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Muay Thai: 1.11

“Nairi! Over here!”

Nairi turned automatically at the sound of Linden’s voice and saw her waving from across the room. Linden was fresh-faced and her hair was newly cropped and dyed; a deeper, richer red that matched her lipstick. She’d also taken the corner table and was sitting with her back to the room, the chair for Nairi free on the other side.

Her lip twitched up despite herself as she took the seat against the wall. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” said Linden cheerfully. “I grabbed us some drinks and a couple of big soups. No bacon in yours, I checked.” She was grinning as she said it, poking the very tip of her tongue under her two front teeth and tilting her head to the side. The light filtering through the window next to them made her eyes seem very round and bright.

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shrugging her jacket off and taking a moment to hang it over the back of her chair, using the movement as an excuse to drag her eyes away from Linden’s too-blue gaze. “I never really know what to get.”

Though the limited options of most vegetarian menus usually made that decision for her. Linden seemed to agree with her, nudging her foot against Nairi’s under the table. “Don’t think too hard about it. Veg options are nice and I’m enjoying the start of hot soup weather, you know?”

Nairi gave her a small smile as she looked back, and she bumped her foot back against Linden’s. “Isn’t it always soup weather?”

“Nope!” said Linden, her grin widening. “C’mon, you’re telling me you want soup and hot things in the middle of August? It’s nearly Christmas, embrace the season.”

“It’s not like it stops being fall as soon as it’s the first, though,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching. “It takes a little to set in.”

Linden wrinkled her nose at her across the table. “Oh, come on, have some fun. Surely you and Aggy have started getting into like, cosy nights in with blankets and sweaters and shit instead of fun nights out on the town, or whatever?”

“I think you’re overestimating how much Agatha likes to go out to start with,” said Nairi.

Linden snorted, her grin a little ugly. “You don’t say?”

Nairi was halfway to asking what she meant by that, but they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. The soups were in deep, broad bowls with side dishes of toasted bread, and Linden had also ordered a cheese board, and tall, sweet sparkling drinks with fruit in them. It looked surprisingly tasty—Nairi had never really considered herself to be the kind of person who ate like this.

The waitress left after depositing the last dish, and she looked back across at Linden. “You’re enjoying the start of winter then? With your uh, poet boy, I mean—sweaters and blankets and nights in?”

Linden laughed, tugging her soup closer and immediately digging in, stirring the swirl of cream around the bowl. “Simon’s not really the ‘cuddling’ type,” she said dismissively.

“Hmm, I’m having a hard time picturing you on the couch in a boyfriend hoodie,” said Nairi lightly, pushing her soup around with the spoon.

Linden’s mouth twitched. “Speak for yourself, I enjoy the occasional boyfriend hoodie, it’s just not really Si and I’s relationship. Does this mean Aggy’s given you one of hers?”

“Wouldn’t it be a girlfriend hoodie then?” asked Nairi, humming a little.

Linden frowned, seemingly without meaning to because she immediately covered it with a sip from her drink, clearing her throat. “Boyfriend hoodie is a state of mind, not a matter of gender,” she said, pointing her spoon at Nairi.

“What, Agatha’s got a boyfriend state of mind and Simon doesn’t?” said Nairi, tearing at some bread. For once she didn’t have much of an appetite.

“Right, yeah,” said Linden, not quite able to cover her irritation. “Does it really matter what I do with Simon? Fuck, you sound like Nick.”

Somehow Nairi doubted that. “Why would Nicholas care what you do with your boyfriend?”

Linden laughed, her smile suddenly a little more honest, a little wry. “He doesn’t really like the guys I date,” she said rolling her eyes. “He really hated my first boyfriend—and I mean like, really hated him. He just worries, you know? All that shit. Wants me to find a strapping nice lad or lady who’ll make an honest woman of me and all that jazz.”

“Oh, the whole acting like you’re still sixteen thing?” said Nairi, slowly chewing her bread. “I can’t decide if that’s sweet or annoying.”

“Oh, you know, six of one and half a dozen of the other,” said Linden, leaning on one elbow. “It’s like how my dad keeps fussing about if I’m gonna get a good job based on my degree, or how Edie keeps ‘checking in’ as an excuse to bitch at me ‘cause she’s like, emotionally constipated.”

Nairi nodded. “Right.”

Linden was watching her, chewing slowly. “Not much of that in your life?” she asked. She had the decency to keep her tone light and neutral rather than sympathetic, at least.

Nairi shook her head, trying some of her soup to avoid answering.

“Don’t speak to your family much?” said Linden, probing a little more in the same, light, tone.

“Never met them,” she said eventually.

Linden nodded, eyes still on Nairi over her food. “That probably wouldn’t help. Foster shits-stem?”

“Not for very long,” said Nairi, giving up on her soup and picking up her drink instead. “So, how’s the painting going?”

Linden might be bitchy, or an asshole, or whatever other descriptor Agatha could drop at the mention of her name, but she knew how to take a hint at least. She grinned, cheeks dimpling. “Beautifully, you’re not allowed to see it yet,” she said archly. “I’m nearly done though, thank god.The temperature’s been dropping which means I need to keep the windows shut, if I have to spend much longer on this one project I’m going to suffocate on fumes.”

“That would be very embarrassing, you can’t even get a good high on turpentine,” said Nairi, taking a long drink.

Linden nodded, still grinning at her. “Exactly! And your grace period for accidental highs and fainting runs out once you graduate art school, if it happens the art police will show up and take my art license away.”

“At least it would be evidence you were using the degree? Get your dad off your back?” suggested Nairi, trying to get back towards Linden’s good humour.

Linden laughed. “A real art miracle.”

Nairi grinned back at her, setting her drink down again. Something settled inside of her, making her feel a little better. “Sorry,” she said after a moment, feeling a belated guilt for how she’d brushed Linden off so bluntly. “I didn’t mean to uh, I don’t know, jump back from you or whatever.”

Linden shook her head. “Don’t feel bad about it, we’ve all got sore spots. I mean, fuck, people get weird as hell when I mention that I don’t know anything about my mom, and I’m not even hung up on that.”

“That’s fair,” said Nairi, nodding back at her. “Everyone has a different standard for this stuff, huh?”

“Different strokes for different folks,” said Linden, winking exaggeratedly across the table at her.

Nairi laughed despite herself, the knot in her chest loosening a little more.

“But seriously,” said Linden, knocking their ankles together under the table again. “You’re my friend and I like you, but you’re kind of mysteriousand don’t have a lot of other friends. I’m trying to get to know you, you know? But I’m trying not to fuck it up. I don’t wanna just wander in and jam down on all your sensitive spots.”

Nairi smiled at her and knocked her ankles back lightly. “I appreciate it,” she said, glancing down at her lunch and hoping it would lessen how strangely wide her mouth felt on her face.

“I appreciate you,” said Linden, sounding delighted. “I mean, I can tell you right now that Agatha hasn’t managed to get a painting out of me yet.”

Nairi tried her soup again, actually tasting it this time. It was a little salty, but good, warm, soft on her tongue. “You paint only for special occasions, huh?”

“Pretty much,” teased Linden, still grinning at her. “I might have to do one for her birthday, make it up to her so she’s not too jealous.”

“But then you’ll have to paint one for everyone,” said Nairi, grinning back at her. “Otherwise even Nicholas might get jealous.”

“Oh, I’ll make him go so green that he’ll totally forget about the paintings I gave him for every birthday and Christmas while I was in college that he hid in his back closet so that he could tell me they were lovely and he definitely kept them,” joked Linden, leaning back in her chair.

“Well, if he kept taking them then he must have liked them,” said Nairi, digging into her lunch more eagerly now.

“Nah, he’s just polite like that,” said Linden. “It took me a while to figure out his whole, deal there, you know? Like, I dunno, he was really pleased that I got into school and was sticking with it, and he doesn’t have any real hobbies, he just, watches his old man TV and he doesn’t read novels, and if he was one of my girlfriends I’d just buy him earrings, but I don’t even know what the old guy equivalent of that is, and like, you can’t just keep getting watches every year. So I’d just like, paint him something based on whatever I was studying. I mostly get him gift cards these days, I think it’s a safer bet.”

Oh god, she also had to think about presents. “But jewellery’s a safe bet for friends?” she asked casually, finishing her soup. “I still have no idea what to do about Christmas and I don’t even know when your birthday is to start prepping for that, if gift buying’s so difficult.”

Linden laughed. “Please, I’m easy—I have a wholeass list of art supplies that constantly need replacing, Mason and Flo nailed that down within like five minutes of meeting me, and I can assure you that you’ll have time to prep for my birthday. I wanna actually make a fuss for twenty-seven, last year was kind of chill, you know? Plus, it’s like rightafter Christmas and I always have to spend that with my dad being all like, sober and respectable so it’ll be good to cut loose a little. You don’t even have to get me anything, but if you’re really worried you can just like, do the Christmas present in two parts, or just give me one and not the other.”

“Yeah?” said Nairi, nodding along with the flood of information. “I don’t really do the whole ‘Christmas’ thing, so that’s good to know.”

“As a religious thing, or you just don’t really feel it?” asked Linden, swiping up some soup with her bread.

“Religious, I guess,” said Nairi, shrugging. “I don’t really see the point.”

Linden nodded. “Noted. Do you do anything for your birthday?”

“Not recently,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug. “I’m not til June, anyway.”

“Oh, we missed it! We met like right after, too, that’s a pain in the ass,” said Linden, pouting.

“Wouldn’t it be kind of awkward to celebrate it if we’d only just met?” asked Nairi, finishing her soup.

Linden grinned, moving their bowls out of the way and reaching for the cheese board between them. “I just like any excuse to celebrate,” she admitted, picking up a little silver knife and prodding at the different wedges. “Birthdays are fun! You made it once more around the sun without dying, why not live it up a little?”

“That makes sense,” said Nairi, giving her another small smile in return. “I’m going to have to make a fuss next year, aren’t I?”

“Definitely,” said Linden, jutting her nose into the air with that small smile. “I like to do things for my friends’ birthdays, and don’tthink that Agatha’ll let you get away without her doing anything to help you celebrate either.”

“I figured yeah,” said Nairi wryly, and she pointed at one of the wedges of cheese that looked like it had fruit in it. “Do they usually do that to cheese?”

“Do what?” asked Linden, cutting a slice off and popping it in her mouth. “Make it delicious? Because yes. I’ll get you some for your birthday and prove it to you.”

Nairi tried a piece and made a face, her tongue immediately trying to reject it from her mouth. “Please don’t,” she said, covering her mouth and forcing herself to swallow, reaching for her drink, which prompted a laugh from Linden. “Anything but cheese with fruit in it. Very easy to buy for, I promise.”

“I get the feeling you’re going to be very tricky, actually,” said Linden, sucking a bit of cheese from her manicured nail with a little smirk playing on her dark, red lips. “I guess we’ll find out.”

—

After, when she said goodbye to Linden outside the café and started the walk home in higher spirits, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her jacket pocket. She slowed as she walked, pulling it out and hitting the unlock button to see who was texting her.

Missed calls and text notifications filled her screen, all from Agatha. Nairi frowned and opened the oldest first.

Aga.D: Are we still on for lunch?

Oh no.

Aga.D: Nairi? Aga.D: Have you left your phone on silent again? Aga.D: Okay it’s been an hour so I’m going to eat something. Call me back? Aga.D: Can you call me when you get these? I’m starting to worry.

Fuck. Nairi flipped back to her phone log and hit the call back option on the most recent, walking towards her apartment, head down and the other hand in her pocket against the rising chill as she waited for Agatha to pick up.

#serial fiction #lgbt fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #111

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shedreamsofstars · 4 years

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our union is a secret i’m hoping, dreaming, lying to keep - chapter one

you've all heard of 'pretending to be married when you're not', now get ready for 'actually married but pretending you're not'

When Tohru and Kyo accidentally find themselves married, they must keep their new union a secret from their friends and family. That's easier said than done when you're both newlywed dorks who just want to spend some quality time with one another whilst said friends and family are always one step away from discovering the truth.

Next chapter

"Oh, Kyo-kun!" Tohru exclaimed with a soft gasp, tugging on her boyfriend's hand to grab his attention. "There's a cart over there with handmade jewellery, can we go look at it?"

Kyo blinked at her slowly, watching as her simple white dress fluttered in the breeze before following her gaze towards a small wheeled cart loaded with all kinds of sparkly pieces crafted from metal and gemstones.

"Yeah, course we can. We can do whatever you want," he said, nodding for her to lead the way.

After spending the better part of two month's apart from Tohru to work at his new job and complete all the paperwork for their new home, Kyo had finally received the key to their apartment earlier in the week. Neither him nor Tohru could stand the idea of spending another day apart, so the pair had moved in the next day.

Whilst he'd been at work all week, Tohru had been decorating the house and searching for jobs nearby and had been ecstatic at discovering that there would be a spring festival in a nearby town. Kyo had agreed to the idea instantly. This was their first weekend together in months and he planned to enjoy every second of it with his girl.

"Let's go!" Tohru said excitedly, rushing ahead so fast that he had to jog to keep from being pulled along after her. The pair of them made quite a sight as they moved through the colourful crowds of the town festival hand in hand.

Kyo had opted for his usual plain shirt and jeans combo, but with the weather being warmer than expected, he was starting to regret having gone for the black shirt. He undid the top button with his free hand as they arrived at the stall, watching on in vague amusement as Tohru spaced out at the sheer variety of jewellery on display.

She marvelled at the gemstone rings, the sparkly earrings and the intricate necklaces with an intensity that could only mean she was picking out what would suit her friends the best, but when her attention shifted to the bracelets scattered haphazardly across the front of the stall, Kyo's gaze turned wary.

Ever since he'd been freed from having to wear his own beads, seeing anything aside from a watch on a person's wrist left a sour taste in his mouth. Thankfully she didn't dwell on them too long, shifting her gaze back to a pair of earrings she thought would look nice on Kisa.

"What do you think?" she asked, holding them up to the light.

Kyo squinted to get a good look at them. They were small and pretty and looked like something little Kisa would refuse to ever take off. Tohru really did have a strange knack for picking out the perfect gifts for people.

"I think they'll look great on Kisa," he started, holding them up towards Tohru's ear. "But … they'll look even nicer on you."

The instant blush that fluttered to life on her cheeks had his heart skipping a beat. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately – surely that couldn't be good for you?

"You're so silly Kyo-kun," she said happily, handing over the earrings and the money to the vendor. "I can't wait until we have a housewarming party and I get to give presents to everyone."

"Uh, aren't you supposed to receive gifts at a housewarming party, not give them?" he said blankly as Tohru thanked the vendor for the earrings. He took the bag from her, swapping it out for his hand as they began to wander away.

"Yes, but I just can't imagine everyone visiting and leaving empty handed. And gifting is so much fun, why would we miss out on that!"

Kyo shook his head but he didn't say anything further. If gifting things to others made her happy, then that was all that mattered to him. "Oh," he said, bringing them to a stop. "I'm sorry Tohru. I didn't ask you if you liked anything for yourself back there."

"Oh that's okay, I wasn't looking for myself anyway."

"Are you sure, because we can go back, no problem?" he assured her, beginning to turn back. Tohru refused to move though and he turned back to her.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said with a sweet smile, leaning in towards him a little as she spoke.

"Well now I just feel bad for not paying enough attention before," he grumbled, annoyed at himself for getting distracted by his own thoughts.

"It really is fine Kyo-kun. Besides, you can make it up to me by getting us some kakigori. It really is quite warm today and they always have so many different flavours, I never know which to choose!"

"Oh, they have that here?"

Tohru nodded. "I saw someone eating some earlier. They were coming from that direction" she said, pointing towards the other end of the street. There was a lot of people in the way so he couldn't quite see across, but he did spot another festival goer with a small pot of shaved ice.

"Well come on then, we haven't got any time to lose," Kyo declared as the pair of them set off in that direction. They made it about half-way across the street before they found themselves coming to an abrupt stop when a crowd of people blocked the walkway completely.

"I wonder why everyone's just stopped here?" Tohru asked glancing around for some sort of explanation. "It looks like they all want to go to that shrine over there. Do you know whose it is?"

Kyo shook his head. "No, but we can go check it out. I know you like to leave an offering whenever you can." He didn't really mind taking a detour on the way to dessert.

"Hmm," Tohru agreed. "I'd like that."

"Alright," Kyo said, catching sight of a small woman dressed in plain clothing who seemed to be attempting to wrangle the crowd outside the shrine. Tightening his grip on Tohru's hand so as not to lose her, he began to work his way towards the woman.

"Excuse me," he called out as he got close enough. "Is this-"

He never got to finish his question. The woman let out a high shriek of excitement the moment she set eyes on him, her wide eyes darting between him and Tohru.

"Oh goodness! It seems we have the perfect pair of volunteers for our last spot right here!"

"Uh, volunteers?" Tohru mumbled beside him, cocking her head in confusion.

"You are here to visit the Musubi no Kami Shrine, yes?"

"Yes, but-" Kyo started before being interrupted again.

"Lovely, then if you'll just follow me up these stairs into the courtyard we can begin right away," the woman declared, shuffling up the stairs with the energy of someone half her age.

"Oh, okay," Tohru stammered as the crowds parted to let them through, ushering them after the woman with kind smiles. "I don't know what's going on, but it seems kind of rude not to follow."

"Yeah," Kyo agreed as the pair began to ascend the steps after the woman, who he now assumed was a shrine maiden. What harm could come from entering a shrine anyway?

"Ah, here they are! Come to the centre with the others my dears, that's it," the woman said as she led them to the middle of the shrine courtyard. People had gathered along the edges, but there were three other couples standing in the centre.

The shrine priest stood to the right of the altar, wearing the usual traditional attire whilst the short woman who led them here took up a spot to the left. The altar itself was piled high with offerings from fruit to coins, all neatly placed along the slab of stone.

"Excuse me sir?"

Kyo tore his gaze away from the front of the shrine to find another woman dressed similarly to the one by the altar holding out a sheet of paper for him. "I just need you and the lady to sign these before we begin the ceremony."

"Um … yeah, sure?" Kyo said politely, accepting the pen and scratching out his name at the bottom and handing it over to Tohru.

"You must want to lock this pretty lady down before she changes her mind, huh," she said to Kyo with a conspiratorial wink.

Kyo laughed nervously in response before wondering when exactly he had picked up Tohru's little habit. He was so distracted by the thought he didn't fully consider what exactly it was the pair of them had just signed their names to.

"What's going on Kyo-kun?" Tohru whispered from beside him once the lady had left.

"I think we just got dragged into the middle of some sort of feudal re-enactment, but I'm not sure." He was fairly certain this was some sort of re-enactment at least. The papers were likely just permission to be included.

Tohru let out an excited gasp. "Like a play? Oh, how exciting!"

Of course she would think so, Kyo thought with a smile before the priest at the altar drew everyone's attention by hitting the large gong beside him. The crowds fell silent as the ring resonated across the shrine, dying out by the second.

"Welcome one and all. Now that we have enough willing participants, let's get this going shall we. I'm sure our couples are eager to get this over and done with."

There was a low chuckle of agreement from the crowds.

"Alright, if you could all hold your partners hands in front of you, then we'll begin."

Tohru and Kyo did as they were told, facing each other and holding hands as the priest went through the ceremony step by step. The re-enactment was pretty simple Kyo thought as they followed along with the other couples.

There was some sake ritual that he didn't quite understand, and the recitation of a prayer, but it wasn't until a shrine maiden appeared with paper rings that Kyo figured out just what ceremony they were re-enacting for the crowds.

He felt his cheeks heat up instantly, but if Tohru caught onto the same thing, she didn't seem to show it. She just seemed blissfully happy at being able to partake in something where she didn't have to be a mean stepsister.

With the priest's speech over, the crowd erupted into cheers of joy and cherry blossom petals were flung into the air, hanging like pink crystals in the sky before showering down around everyone in the shrine.

"Oh, I think we're done," Tohru said as the other couples embraced around them. "That was so fun!" she smiled.

"Congratulations you two, I hope you live long happy lives together," the lady beside them said, handing over the two rings for the pair of them to do with as they pleased before shuffling away.

"Um … thank you?" Tohru said, accepting them with a warm smile. "Kyo-kun, look at how pretty these are, and we both get one too!"

"Uh … yeah," Kyo replied, his cheeks still burning.

"Oh goodness, you two really do look so wonderful together," someone cooed from behind him and Kyo turned to see the shrine maiden he had spoken to outside. "How romantic that your wedding anniversary will fall on the first day of spring forevermore!"

"Our wedding anniversary?" Tohru said looking as lost as Kyo felt. A sudden air of panic overcame him, and the blood rushed to his ears as he finally caught onto the woman's words.

"Those were … real wedding vows?"

"Of course. We may do on the spot weddings, but they are perfectly legal and binding," the woman said happily before pausing in thought. "Wait … you did know that right? I mean, the papers you signed clearly said-"

"Yeah, yeah, of course we did," Kyo said hurriedly, lying through the grimace that threatened to overtake his face. He turned towards Tohru who was doing a significantly worse job of hiding her own panic.

"Definitely. Of course we did. How silly would it be if we thought it was just pretend the whole time," Tohru babbled, that nervous laugh of hers resurfacing. She likely would have continued to talk, but Kyo squeezed her hand firmly and her panic seemed to subside a little.

"Oh good, I thought we'd done something terrible there for a second. Becoming husband and wife is nerve wracking yet exciting adventure so you have nothing to be worried about. I must go and congratulate the others before they leave, but I shall leave you with these papers to fill in and send off should you need them."

"Papers for what?" Kyo asked a little suspiciously. They'd already accidentally signed themselves into becoming life partners with the last papers someone handed them, was this one to take their souls hostage too?

"There's your marriage certificate and the paperwork to legally change your names should you require it. We only hold a marriage license at the shrine, so that extra work will fall to you unfortunately. Good luck to you both on your new journey, although from the way you look at each other I hardly think you need it."

The lady inclined her head politely before shuffling away, leaving Kyo and Tohru alone in the middle of the shrine. Kyo took a deep breath as he took a moment to take in everything the woman had just said, his fingers tightening around the scroll of paper she'd handed him.

"Um … Kyo-kun?"

He glanced down to see Tohru watching him curiously.

"Yeah Tohru?

"We're … really … married?"

"We are," he replied quietly, careful not to let any inflection colour his words. They had never spoken about marriage in so many words, so he had no idea how she would react to the news or what she would be feeling in that moment.

Probably confused like he was, but Kyo also found a little kernel of happiness inside of him too at the thought of knowing he was tied to Tohru in a significant way.

"We're married," Tohru repeated a little more assuredly this time, the small smile on her face widening by the second. "Kyo-kun, we're really married!"

This time Tohru rushed forward, clinging to the lapels of his shirt as she pressed herself closer to him with a beaming grin on her face. Her closeness was all he needed for the kernel to pop, and suddenly Kyo's own grin matched hers as the happiness puffed up inside him.

"I know, I can't believe it." Her face dropped a little at his words and he felt the need to clarify immediately. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy. I always wanted-" Kyo cut himself off a little embarrassed as Tohru watched him curiously.

"You did?"

"Of course … eventually at least. Did you?"

"I really did," she said, her voice soft and sincere.

His arms were around her in an instant as he kissed her gently, smiling against her lips as she struggled to keep from giggling. "I'm actually going to get to call you my wife," he whispered, running a reverent hand through her hair.

As much as he wanted the moment to last, it didn't take long for reality to come crashing down around him and Kyo's bliss turned to dread in the blink of an eye. He groaned incoherently, releasing Tohru in favour of grabbing his knees with his hands.

"Kyo-kun, are you okay!?" Tohru said worriedly, placing a comforting hand against his shoulder. "Kyo-kun? Oh no, is this too much at once? Oh no. It's okay, I'm sure we can fix this. We'll tell them it was a mistake and-"

Kyo stood and pulled Tohru into his chest to silence her, holding her in a loving caress to keep her from jumping from one wrong conclusion to the next.

"You could never be a mistake Tohru. I couldn't be happier that we're husband and wife, however it happened but … it's just … Master is going to kill me for not inviting him to my wedding!"

Tohru squeaked in alarm as Kyo's words shattered her little bubble of happiness. "Oh no, he'll be so upset. What are we going to do? This is terrible. This is really bad"

"I know, I'm such a terrible son. What if he doesn't-" He stopped as Tohru's finger pressed against his lip.

"Don't say that Kyo-kun. Master would never think that of you. He's kind and he loves you so much. This was just a simple mistake. He'll understand, I just know he will.

"Yeah maybe but … oh god," Kyo said, suddenly looking more alarmed than even before as the faces of Arisa Uotani and Saki Hanajima came to the forefront of his mind. "Those two…" He shuddered violently, unable to finish his thought.

"Oh, Uo-chan and Hana-chan," Tohru said as she caught on to his line of thinking, her nervous laugh bursting through. "This really is bad Kyo-kun."

... xxx ...

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#kyoru #kyoru fanfiction #fruits basket #fruits basket fanfiction #our union is a secret i'm hoping dreaming lying to keep #i'm so excited to be writing this!!

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Summary: During his two month long sea voyage from Phthia to Skyros, Patroclus makes an unexpected friendship.

Chapter 2: Dreamer of At The Water’s Edge is up! Where the ship makes a stop at the port of Skopelos on its way to Skyros, and Patroclus explores the island with Xanthos.

Read here or on AO3 | Read Chapter 1

Time passed slowly, out at sea.

The days went by, calm and uneventful. The ship glided slowly on the waves like a large, dense cloud along an untroubled sky. The winds often picked up in the evenings, making it bob and dance, but for the most part the journey was quiet. Too quiet. We stopped at various ports along the way; crates were unloaded, others were brought up. A day or two at the harbour for the captain to get the best prices he could for his wares, then we would set sail again.

There was not much to do during those long hours on board. The endless blue that stretched all around me swiftly became monotonous, with only the occasional rock island to break up the sameness of the view. I hadn’t brought much with me to occupy myself. When I’d left Phthia behind, I had only brought the bare essentials: gold, some dried fruit and nuts in a small linen pouch, a few changes of clothes. My mother’s lyre.

I could be playing the lyre, I supposed, but my stomach would twist in knots at the mere thought of it. The lyre was Achilles’, as much as it was mine. Touching its gilded arms and running my fingers over the fine strings without him close to listen made me feel empty, and the sounds seemed dull and hollow.

It had always looked far more natural on him, the melodies that poured forth from its strings sweet enough to rival the music of the gods themselves. It was often said that instruments hold a part of their owner’s soul; a piece of their hearts, their minds left behind in the act of playing. It could have been just a foolish fancy on my part, a childish notion, but it gave me a strange sort of comfort to think that, when Achilles had the lyre with him, a small part of me was there to accompany him. The thought of him being anywhere without it stirred a sadness in me so bottomless, I thought I would drown in it.

The nights were always worse, when darkness and quiet descended upon the world, and when my sorrow rose within me like high tide. Those moments, when the walls of my tiny cabin seemed to be closing in on me, and the air around me grew thick like water, I would leave my self-imposed confinement and go out on deck. I often sought Xanthos’ company, then. He usually took the night’s watch, and we would sit together at the ship’s prow with our legs dangling off the side, watching the stars and sipping spiced wine from his wineskin, talking about this and that until dawn found us.

I learned a lot about him, during those slow and quiet nights. I learned that he was good with a bow and a shepherd’s sling, but that he’d never touched a spear in his life. That he had a scar on his right calf from when he had fallen off the boughs of an olive tree when he was a child, and another one on his forehead, close to his hairline, that he got on his very first voyage when he accidentally hit his head on a lowered mast. That his favourite dish was fried red mullet fish, with lemon and garlic, and that prawns made him break out in hives.

“Quite unfortunate, to be allergic to seafood when one is a seaman,” I’d joked when he told me, and he’d laughed.

“Life is full of clever ironies such as this, isn’t it?” His cheeks had been a touch flushed from the drink, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “It’s what makes it so interesting.”

It was that same night that I learned that he could play the flute, and always had one on him. When I’d ask him to play he had insisted that he didn’t have much talent for it, but I relished the sweet notes that drifted from it all the same. The silvery music had briefly reminded me of all those quiet afternoons I’d spent in the olive grove in Pelion, practicing the flute while Achilles lay beside me, eyes closed, his arm curled under his head. He’d looked so peaceful then, so serene, as if nothing could disturb that quiet moment, as if nothing existed in the world except us two.

A sharp pang of bitterness had risen within me at the memories, yet it had swiftly dissolved when Xanthos had finished his tune. The brightness of his smile when I’d told him I’d enjoyed it had been enough to take my mind off my own miseries, if only for a moment.

I had been on the ship for more than a month when we stopped at the port of Skopelos. A small island, its high verdant hills looking as if they were jutting straight out of the water. The hustle and bustle of its small port was a welcome change to the ceaseless, monotonous whispers of the waves, the sea wind and the seagull’s cries.

Crates were loaded and unloaded, deals with the local merchants made, as usual. We were only going to stay there until dawn, the captain told everyone. A skeleton crew would remain on the ship, while the rest were free to do as they wished. When Xanthos asked me whether I wanted to go for a walk about the town, I eagerly accepted, jumping at the chance to finally set foot on solid ground again.

Truth was, I enjoyed Xanthos’ company. He was talkative but not loud, cheerful without being obnoxious; there was a lightness to the way he spoke and moved. He had a strange way of knowing when to talk and when to keep silent, and, when I retreated into the inner workings of my mind for too long, he seemed to know how to pull me up to the surface with a story or a jest.

Now, however, as he led me through the crowded docks, his enthusiasm for being on one of his favourite islands —as he’d brightly informed me— was too large to be contained. Several eyes strayed in our direction when he stopped to loudly greet this or that person that passed us by, but he seemed not to notice. Xanthos had a commanding presence without realising it, the kind that came without effort or artifice; he stood at least a head taller than everyone around us, and his merry voice with its lilting accent rose through the din and noise of the crowd. I was surprised by how little I was bothered by the attention the two of us attracted, as we walked towards the market square.

The agora, the island’s marketplace, was not large: just a handful of merchant stalls and shops beyond the docks, gathered around the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree. At Xanthos’ insistence, I tried teganitai, a local dessert made of fried dough, honey and spices. It was warm and fragrant when the vendor handed it to me, fresh and steaming from the flat clay pan over the brazier. It was delicious, melting on my tongue, and different from similar desserts I’d tried in Phthia and Opus, even though the ingredients were the same.

“It’s the trees,” Xanthos told me. At my curious look, he laughed. “The bees here feed on the pine and oak trees of the island. The honey is different than the one you’re used to; that’s why the teganitai taste different, as well.”

He was handsome when he laughed, I realised. I watched the sun catch in the honey gold highlights in his hair, the shadows that pooled in the contours of his tanned face, his eyes that sparkled and crinkled at the corners. I smiled, savouring the sweetness that lingered on my tongue as I followed him.

Flickering light caught my eye. I turned, curious, and followed it, and soon I found myself before a jewellery stall. It was a rather small one, with but a few pieces of jewellery on it, situated right in front of a smithy. A young woman was sitting behind it, her black hair gathered in a braid and pinned at the nape of her neck. The pins that held her dress in place at her shoulders were made of burnished silver, worked in the shape of feathers. She smiled when she saw us approaching.

The scent of warmed up metal and wood smoke filled my nostrils, and the rhythmic blows of the hammer mingled with the noise and chatter coming from the market. The jewellery, set in neat rows upon the stall, caught the light of the afternoon sun, its golden rays reflecting on the intricately carved patterns. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches, the metals twisted in shapes new and unexpected, with small colourful stones glittering amidst the folds. I heard Xanthos’ footsteps stopping beside me, his arm brushing my own as he leaned forward to examine the wares.

“Look at this one,” he said, pointing at one of the rings. It was bronze, worked flat on top, with a delicate carving of a dove. Simple, yet well made. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Try it on.” I blinked at him, and he grinned. “Go on, just try it. It won’t bite.”

I let out a soft chuckle as I put it on my finger. It slipped easily, like it was always meant to be there. I held it close to my eyes, inspecting the carving.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I do,” I nodded with a smile as I studied the engraving, noticing the details on the dove’s feathers, its slender neck, its eyes. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it, that so much detail can be preserved in something so small?”

Xanthos made no reply. He reached for his belt instead, pulling out his small bag of coins. My eyes widened with surprise when I saw him drawing out a couple coins to hand over to the merchant.

“No!” I stopped him, reaching out to catch his wrist. He blinked at me, stopping short. “You— you don’t have to,” I said hastily, hoping that my cheeks didn’t look as hot as they felt. “Really. I was just admiring it, that is all.”

“It suits you," Xanthos shrugged. "I think you should have it.” He didn’t try to pry his wrist out of my grip, peering straight into my eyes instead.

“Yes, but…” My words trailed away when our gazes met. I wasn’t used to him looking at me so intently, for so long. His eyes were deep set, almond shaped, framed by dark eyelashes. They were not green and vibrant like Achilles’, but warm and honey brown like ripe, fertile earth. Still, the clarity in them was startlingly similar. I could feel his pulse right underneath my fingertips, and it was steady and sure, like the beat of the blacksmith’s hammer. I swallowed, feeling a little out of breath, and reluctantly let go of his hand.

“You shouldn’t buy it for me,” I mumbled awkwardly. I knew that his sailor’s wages were more than modest, and the idea of him using part of them for me, especially for something as frivolous, left me feeling numb.

As if he could read my thoughts, Xanthos gave me a small, reassuring smile. “What if I buy something for myself as well? Then we can both have something beautiful.”

“Are… are you sure?”

“I am. It’s been a while since I bought anything like this. I think the timing’s right.” He nodded at the stall, perusing the rest of the items. “Why don’t you help me pick?”

A few minutes later, a beautifully made bronze bracelet was resting around Xanthos’ wrist. Its two ends were shaped like dolphin heads, with tiny aquamarine stones for their eyes. All sailors loved dolphins; they were always a good portent, a sign that land wasn’t too far away.

“To make sure you’re always close to a safe shore,” I told him as I watched the young woman fasten it around his wrist. Xanthos’ smile mirrored my own when we walked away from the stall. A small shiver ran through me when I felt his palm on the small of my back, gently guiding me forward.

“I often come here when we're on the island,” he informed me when we reached a small, secluded beach. He seemed to know his way about the place well, and I didn’t question him when he led me through the thicket of pine trees that lay beyond the town. The beach was like an upturned horseshoe, with short and stubby trees jutting out of the rock, low enough that it seemed as though their roots plunged straight into the emerald waters. The white, flat pebbles glinted like polished marble when the waves lapped over them at the water’s edge.

The autumn breeze that was blowing was chill, but I didn’t feel cold. The bright autumn sun was enough to warm me, and my tunic kept most of the chill away. I sat on a wide and flat rock and watched as the stones that Xanthos threw skimmed the glass-like surface of the sea. There was a quiet serenity to that place, as if time glided by much more slowly there than the rest of the world. Like I had suddenly found myself in a small bubble of calmness, and I could finally breathe again. I could not remember the last time I had felt this calm, almost content. I had not felt like this since...

Since before Achilles had been taken away.

It didn’t take long for my thoughts to drift to him, as they always did. I wondered what he was doing right then, if he was thinking of me, if he missed me. I wondered if he was unhappy, as unhappy as I was without him. The thought of his bright eyes cast downward, of his gentle heart gripped by despair, was enough to make whatever calm and happiness I had felt taste sour in mouth.

A wave of guilt washed over me, that I was there and enjoying myself while he was alone. I could take the loneliness, the pain of his absence, if barely, but Achilles… he was different. He had never known heartache in his life, and I did not wish him to. I would take all of the pain unto myself, if I could, if that meant that his brilliance never faded, that the spark in his eyes never lost its warmth.

I had lost track of the times I had wished that I could simply transport myself to wherever he was, instead of having to wait for days, weeks, months to get to him. I would have cursed the ship and its agonisingly slow course, if I wasn’t afraid that the gods would hear me and punish me further for my insolence.

“Do you run, Patroclus?”

Xanthos’ voice stirred me out of my grim thoughts. He had walked away from the shore and was now standing over me. The sun hung bright over his head, bathing his wavy locks in its deep golden glow, bringing out the richness of their colour.

I nodded slowly and pushed to my feet. He laughed as he raced ahead of me, the bright sound of it carrying across the quiet beach.

We raced where the waves broke, over and over, our feet kicking back clumps of wet sand. I had expected to lose every race, as I always did when I raced with Achilles. I lost the first time, but the second time I won, reaching the tall rocks at the far end of the beach only a breath before Xanthos did. After this, he won, then I won again. My heart pummelled my chest, my blood pumping wildly with the thrill of those small victories.

I grinned, delighted, and hopped atop one of the tall rocks when I reached them first for the third time.

“Behold the victor!” I declared, placing my fists on my hips as I looked down upon him.

Xanthos’ cheeks were bright with a ruddy flush, his bronzed brow gleaming with sweat. “So I am,” he said, his full lips curling in a grin wide enough to match my own. I could detect no disappointment in his gaze, no anger for having lost to someone such as me. Only satisfaction for having competed at all, and an odd sort of pride. “You raced well.”

“Thank you. You did too.” He extended his hand to me to help me down, and I took it. The skin of his palm was rough with callouses from the salt and the hard work, but the skin was warm to the touch. He gave my hand a small squeeze before he let it go, and I was surprised to detect the wave of warmth that surged through me at the gentleness of his touch. We were still close, and I could smell the light musk of his skin. There was no artistry to it, only sweat and salt and earth. Simple and direct, and so very human.

A long moment passed between us when no one talked. He took a step back and threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing the damp locks away from his brow. “So uh…” he started, shifting on his feet. “Hungry?”

The goat cheese pies we’d bought from the market were still warm when we took them out of their cloth wrappings, melting on my tongue. The sun was steadily drifting towards the west, and a chill wind had risen from the North. Xanthos had gathered some dry driftwood, and I had helped him start a small fire to keep us warm. I watched him over the dancing flames now, as he pushed bite after bite of the pie into his mouth.

“I had missed this place,” he sighed into the fast approaching dusk after he’d finished his meal, leaning back on his elbows.

“It’s beautiful here,” I agreed. “Very calm.”

“It is. It reminds me of home. There’s a small beach there, that’s just like this one. I used to go there and fish with a harpoon when I was little. I could stay there all day, until the stars shone in the sky. My sister would often come with me, even though my mother always scolded us both for staying away from the house for so long, and sent us to bed with empty bellies. Then my grandmother would sneak into our room and give us warm bread and cheese to eat.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That woman would defy the gods themselves, if it meant keeping us fed.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his fond reminiscing. It must be wonderful, I thought, for one to remember their place of birth so fondly, to have been raised with a family that loved them. Most of my memories of Opus were bitter, even the good ones tainted by my father’s quiet disapproval that always followed me like a shadow, and of the crime I had committed. That, most of all.

“How long has it been since you’ve been to Apollonia?” I asked him, eager to escape my own thoughts. It was easier to do while listening to Xanthos’ smooth and rhythmic voice.

“Years.�� He squinted into the horizon as he thought, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “This year, it will be five winters since I left. I’ve travelled all over the Aegean. I’ve been to Lesbos and Icaria and Samothrace. To Athens as well, once. The captain’s planning a trip to Troy soon. The spices there are the strongest and most aromatic. Cassia and coriander sell well in Greek markets.” He idly brushed the short stubble on his cheek. “He has asked me to come with.”

“You should go,” I told him gently. I could see the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke of all the places he had visited, and the ones he had yet to visit. The lure of the unknown was strong in him, as it was in all sailors. “I think it would be the chance of a lifetime.”

The cool evening breeze combed through his hair, the ends of it brushing over his brow. “I think you’re right. There are places I’ve only ever heard of and never thought I would have the opportunity to see. I would like to see more of the world and its wonders.”

“That is a noble pursuit.”

“You think? There’s good money in it, too,” he grinned. “So perhaps it isn’t as noble. A rather ordinary pursuit, I would say.” He laughed softly, then let his head fall back, staring at the sky. The stars were just starting to twinkle into the coming night. “I want to travel to the ends of the world, and earn as much gold as I can. Then one day, I’d like to settle. To have a place to call my own. Start a family, perhaps. Who knows.” His gaze slid to me. “What are your dreams for the future?”

I opened my mouth, then promptly let it fall closed. It startled me, how little I had ever thought of it. It had never even crossed my mind, I realised, to plan this far ahead into the future. Ever since I’d met Achilles, ever since I had become his therapon, the only thing I had wanted was to be close to him, wherever he happened to be. His destiny lay in the glory of war. His fame would eventually sprout like a sapling from the tattered and bloody ground of a battlefield. I had always known this. Our fates were intertwined, inexorably tangled; I would follow him anywhere, to the end of the world if I had to.

But after this… after the wars and the battles, after the prophecy had been fulfilled, after he had finally become the greatest warrior this world had ever seen, what would happen to him then? Where would we find ourselves, after all was done?

I chewed slowly on the last remains of my pie, to give myself some time to think. “I… do not know,” I finally said. “I’ve never given it much thought.”

“There must be something you want. Everyone does.” Xanthos waited patiently for me to continue, the flames dancing and catching in the amber flakes amidst the brown of his eyes.

Everyone wanted something, that was true. I knew no one that had no dreams, no hopes for the future. Part of me had always wondered if any of it was worth the trouble. While we humans made plans, the gods watched and laughed. Dreams were no more than castles in the sand, standing only for a short while before the tide washed them away. The gods were cruel, I knew, and the Fates were crueler still, waiting for the moment when our joy was ripest to snatch it away.

Yet, what were humans if not hopeful? What were they, if not dreamers?

I took a breath, deep enough to give me strength to voice what I had never dared before. “I think… I should like that, too,” I said quietly. “Same as you. A quiet place to settle, a place of my own. Up in the mountains somewhere, perhaps. Something small, with a garden out front to grow vegetables and fruits, herbs. Large windows to let in the sun and the breeze, space enough to hang my herbs to dry, a worktable to grind them into powders and pastes. A hound or two, perhaps,” I added with a smile, and Xanthos laughed gently. “I’ve always loved them.”

Warmth swelled in me, a wave that rose to my throat, when I pictured Achilles in that small home. He would sit by the window, amidst the pots of dried rosemary and fennel, the sun glossing his aureate locks, his slender fingers plucking the strings of his lyre. My mother’s lyre. The skin on his face might show the first signs of age, some lines around his eyes or mouth perhaps, but his hair would be as lustrous and golden as it was now. He would lift his gaze to mine when I’d walk in with my basket overfull with flowers and herbs, and his lips would curl in his cat’s smile. We would cook our meals together, and go swimming in the river together, then sit in the sun to dry, our fingers intertwined. Time would pass in a slow, steady stream, and we would grow old. Together.

“Yes,” I murmured softly to myself, a fond smile tugging the corners of my lips upwards. “I should like that very much.”

Xanthos stayed silent for a long moment, the crackling of the fire and the lapping of the waves against the shore the only sounds between us. With a soft exhale, he straightened, regarding me carefully over the dancing flames. His features, when he spoke, were as serious and solemn as I had ever seen them.

“I hope,” he said, “with all my heart, that the gods grant you your wish, Patroclus.”

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #patroclus #tsoa fanfiction #at the water's edge #johaerys writes

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zedecksiew · 4 years

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d100 Adventure Beginnings

Feeling anxious, indoors because of the Covid-19 quarantine, I adapted an idea from Khairani Barokka and asked Twitter to give me emojis.

I’d turn these emoji into oddities, instigations, opening to adventure.

Guess I wanted to travel? In my head, far afield. It took the weekend, but it made me happy. There were many, many typos, but I visited a hundred different microcosms, with a hundred different persons.

Original thread begins HERE; tweets in the thread were tagged / attributed.

d100 ADVENTURE BEGINNINGS

1. 🥐 The sandwich comes to you via delivery. You unwrap the foil as the quadrotor buzzes away. There's something in your sandwich, between tempe patties -an oil-stained slip of card. "Come alone," it says. There is a street address. ~

2. [Photograph of a vine tendril] Watering the garden, you see your morning glory stir.

Its tendrils uncoil. Its vines unclench, recede. Knot in on themselves, twine into thin limbs.

They let go of your fence. They have a face. Flower eyes: two purple trumpet blossoms. They offer a hand to shake.

3. [Italian flag] Morning ritual: put coffee on, wash face, check phone. Twitter takes a half-hour.

You smell burning. Coffee! Your moka pot is now sooty, long past hissing. A man stands next to it, made of steam.

"Salve," the steam ghost says, tipping his steam cap.

4. 🕯️ A warm night. The air is still. The candle flickers in your partner's face. She is checking her wallet. Slips it in her pocket as the candle dies.

"Ah!" she says, in darkness. "So over this power cut."

Time to get more candles.

5. 🔧 This is a *great* spot to get a flat: Lonely road, no streetlights, trees knitting their branches overhead. You shiver. You hate that you shiver. You're an adult. You make noise to assert this. The jack clunks on the ground. "Darling?" somebody whispers.

6. 🦚 "Make way for Lady Lerna!" cries the page, swinging his censer. Behind him a dozen men bear a gilded litter.

Laughter. Ringed fingers part the curtains. A powdered dowager wearing a cartwheel ruff of peacock eyes peers out. She holds her nose.

You hate her.

7. 🐷 Suckling pig. Its split-jaw-ed head faces you. You have never been more aware of an animal corpse.

Goldteeth Liu sips his cognac and asks: "Hey boy, why you not eating? My food not good enough for you is it?

"You feel sweat on your chest, where the wire is.

8. 👻 An ordinary corridor. Sconces, faded wallpaper, a painting.

"Behind the painting," a voice says.

A button behind the painting. Press it. The wall goes click. A crack appears.

"Now can I go?"

You unspool your spell, and the spirit leaves for her afterlife.

9. 🎲 The dice land. "Nine! Woo!" She moves her token, counting every space with a smack.

"What's with you?" they ask her.

"What you mean?" she giggles. She never did know how to play it cool. But she doesn't have to. Under the table, she puts her feet in your lap.

10. 🦷 When you took this assignment, they gave you two false molars:

The one in your right cheek is a transmitter -- a signal for Ops to start the evacuation; The one in your left is a cyanide pill, in case of capture.

Or was it the other way around?

Shit.

11. 🐉 From heaven a serpentine form, golden and gleaming. Growling like thunder ground out of the earth.

Descending, approaching --

But getting no bigger? Is it shrinking?

It is in front of you, now. It is as big as your forearm -- no, your finger.

"Bite me," it squeaks.

12. 🍞 The curfew has gone on for months. You have survived through food shortages, power cuts, rumours of civil unrest.

But now you are in trouble. Now, you enter your second trimester. Now, you crave.

Gardenia white bread.

You will brave cordons to get it.

13. 🧎‍♀️ You are hurrying to your car when somebody calls: "Girl? Girl!"

The voice comes from a red altar under a tree, past the kerb. From a songkok-ed uncle, as tall as your calves.

"Got food ah girl?" the roadside god says. "Two weeks already uncle hasn't eaten."

14. 👀 Someone has been pasting googly eyes on your stuff:

Your mailbox in the lobby; The telephone pole in front of your parking spot; The flower pot on the balcony.

Creepy. "It's not me!" your housemate says.

This morning, you find googly eyes on your forehead.

15. 🔐 The padlock on your front door is broken.

The door swings open onto an empty living room. On the floor: rectangles of dust, where your shelves and cabinets once stood.

As well as a shred of newsprint. "Take this, Mat!" it says.

Your name's not Mat.

16. 🎟️ Pa played the lottery on his birthday. Always with the same numbers: 1406, 2902. Ma's birthday. Yours.

Pa died last week. Yesterday was his birthday. You bought his numbers from the ticket counter.

Today you check the results: "First jackpot: 1406 2902."

17. 🦖 Dusting Dr Khoo's shelves, you accidentally knock over a novelty Tyrannosaurus piggy bank.

It shatters on the parquet floor.

There are ceramic shards, change -- and a passport with Dr Khoo's photo. Under a different name. In Cyrillic script.

Uh oh.

18. 🍳 Eggs in your cast-iron pan -- the last three eggs you have.

Ina: "What are we going to do for protein, now?"

Gan: "We can search the shophouses in town. Or hope to catch a lizard?"

Ina makes a face. You shrug. With your cast-iron pan, you can cook anything.

19. 👻 Knock before you enter a hotel room for the first time. Say: "I'm coming in, okay?" Let its other occupants vacate.

But:You bustled in, dropped the card in its holder, threw your suitcase in the closet, dumped yourself on the bed.

So, now:

Don't look up.

20. 🙆‍♀️ From you balcony, you watch your neighbour in the community playground. She is a dancer. She plays music on portable speakers. She practices pirouettes.

You wish you could work up the courage to talk to her.

She looks up, sees you watching, and waves.

21. 🗝️ "The key will open any lock," the goblin said.

The key feels heavy in your hand. Plain and iron. But when you bring it near the queen's jewellery box it shifts: turns silver and intricate.

A skeleton key!

"The key only works once," the goblin said.

22. 🎥 You don't like the protesters. So naive. And look at how they've spray-painted the street! Anarchists.

The cops charge with riot shields. They are beating protesters --

What are you doing?

You are recording this on your phone.

A cop points his baton at you.

23. 🥳 On your birthday you are surprised at the door. Balloons, food, music to dance to. A party! Laughing, you thank you friends.

"Thank Brian!"

"Brian?" you ask.

"Your cousin Brian?" they say. They point. He smiles and waves back. You don't recognise him.

24. 🤦‍♀️ Your headache gets worse. On day three your vision blurs; you collapse in your bathroom.

You wake to familiar voice: "Hey."

It is your voice. "Don't panic," your doppelganger says. "You're okay." She dried you off, put you in bed. She will not harm you.

25. 🍳 You tried to steal from the Pasha. He is magnanimous, and decided not to behead you. Instead, you will serve him.

You will journey into the wastes. You will brave the fire. You will acquire the Phoenix's egg. The Pasha is a gourmand. He wishes to eat it.

26. 🐙 "Finding the Perihelion Squid is not a problem," your captain says. "It glows in the water."

Sunset. A ray catches your captain's arm and belly, throwing the sucker-shaped burn marks there into textured relief.

"The problem is fighting it," your captain says.

27. 🚦 You stop at the lights. You look at your phone.

Somebody bonks your side-view mirror. "Oi!" you say -- but more people are rushing past. The drivers of the cars in front of you. What are they running from?

Across the intersection, a stampede of water buffalo.

28. ™️ "Breath Easy," the billboard says. A beach panorama, with a white family in the foreground: father, mother, daughter -- all three in pastel shirts. Eyes shut, chins up, smiling.

"VitaOX, premium bottled air," the billboard says. "A Sinochem-McDonald's company."

29. 🦥 The Colossal Ground Sloth is a geographic enormity.

See that hill, blocking our view of the rising sun? That's not a hill. That's a sloth. It sits, seemingly smiling, covered in trees. When it shudders the birds take flight.

Look: it opens its lake-like eyes.

30. 🗽 When the Statue vanishes, America freaks. Who's to blame? Terrorists? SJWs?

Then it turns out the Statue is also missing from all visual media: T-shirts, postcards, patriotic paraphernalia.

The White House settles on its favourite scapegoat -- China.

31. 🧩 The map to the Treasure of Sagely Fu is borne on the back of the Divine Tortoise:

Its scutes represent the 38 provinces of the Empire. Its coloration represents the hills and valleys. When Sagely Fu fought the Tortoise, he kicked a chip-mark into its shell.

32. 💙 The Heart Of Ice is a crystalline fortress, so high above the sea that the sky is twilight and the air freezes you solid.

There rules the Queen, a goddess of pure and alien elements. If you can make Her shed a tear she will grant you your heart's desire.

33. 🌼 The pontianak is a monster -- born when a pregnant woman dies, wronged.

Seeking vengeance, she hunts men. She takes the form of a comely woman. One of her signs is the fragrance of frangipani blossoms.

"Hey," says the bar hostess. She smells of night flowers.

34. 🦊 "My foxies," the witch says. "My vulpies."

In her hut are bones, bones, bones. Piled in a bucket. Mounted on display stands. Sniffing your ankle -- fox skeletons, moving as they did in life.

"Can you do cats?" you ask, nodding to the bundle in your arms.

35. 🥾 The search parties assemble quietly. A trekker is lost on the mountain. Nobody is happy.

"I told him," one of the guides whisper. "I told him. Don't take anything, I said. You don't know whose things you're taking. But I saw him slip a stone into his pocket."

36. 🐬 The pool is still. Park management turns this fountain off at 10pm.

You like walking here, at night. You like the granite dolphins, mid-jump, frozen in time. You toss a coin into the fountain for luck. Clink.

There is a splash. A flash of motion. A fin.

37. 📚 In the book you find a letter, in delicate cursive:

"Dear Emily, Bought this book for your birthday. Which is also Valentine's Day. I will never be able to tell you that I love you. So I will never give this book to you. Sara."

Sara is your mother's name.

38. 🌲 A postcard of evergreens. A landscape you've only seen in photos.

You stash it in a notebook, stuff that in your bag.

"Over here," Michelle says. She grins, shimmies out of a space between leaning shelves. A box of double-A batteries. Meaning: jackpot.

39. 🥡 You bike to the pick-up.

It's a commissary in the middle of an industrial park. The guy at the counter says nothing. Just looks you up and down. He licks his lips.

"What's in this?" you ask, pointing at the takeaway pack.

"Meat," he says. He licks his lips.

40. 🎏 The airships of Vo Langka are fish-shaped.

Carp and arowana are most common -- but advances in aeronautics have made wing-form (ie: stingray-like) aircraft possible.

You are a pilot. Today you will test the first ever flying machine made in imitation of a bird.

41. 🐗 The boar charges your golf cart. The caddy veers onto the green.

Gunshots!

Your bodyguards down the beast. It came from the forest behind the golf course -- the one you've earmarked for clearing.

It's not the only forest creature that wants to murder you.

42. ♻️ Your body slides into the furnace.

Your husband will pick through the ash and bones. Tomorrow he'll take a boat, sail a kilometre out, empty your urn in the sea.

The day after, silver pomfrets will school in a person's shape, and you will see the ocean.

43. ✨ It's a clear night. "Honey?" you call. "Come see!"

She whines -- you are tearing her from her work, she says. You insist. You point up.

Orion and the Dipper, the soft shine of the sickle moon.

"Wanna go for a walk?" you ask. She slips her arm into yours.

44. ✒️ The auto-pen you own is old. Picks up too much background chatter. The newer pens have noise-cancelling wards.

See? You've stopped dictating, but the pen is still writing:

"NO AH NO IT MOTHER PLEASE IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP"

Hell's not a good muse.

45. 🌌 The transitcraft trembles as it descends on its pillar of plasma.

"Sorry you didn't make it," the pilot says. "Cosmofleet is not for everyone." He's trying to be kind. This does not help.

He leaves you on the pad. Here you are, with packed bags, back home.

46. 🤫 The librarian drags you under the counter, pale with terror.

You hear the tread of the logovore. The meaning-eater. Books impaled on its spines -- leeched of their ink, their substance, going see-through, disappearing.

It does that to humans, too.

47. 🍥 You spit the fish cake out. From surprise, really. Because it is candy.

A confection of flour, sugar, pink food colouring, floating next to beef slices, on the oily surface of the noodles you ordered.

The kitchen makes you a new bowl. The chef is baffled.

48. 🛰️ Satellites no longer obey us.

Meteorology reverts to fortune-telling. Intelligence becomes earth-bound. Defense satellites play games of laser tag.

Broadcasting ends -- well, not really. When you turn on your TV it tells you: CALL YOUR MOTHER SHE MISSES YOU.

49. 🌿 Where you buried your cat, something is already growing:

A fresh stem of basil, putting out its mild scent; its green, convex leaves.You pluck a leaf, put it in your mouth. Your cat jumps into your lap. You feel her scrape your finger with her tongue.

50. 🐸 The Weed Toad sprouts spiky fur filled with chlorophyll. Basically: it's a frog with grass on its back. It can be a pest.

When you step into your garden something squeaks.The toad jumps away, incensed. Its siblings hop off, too. Your whole lawn, leaving you.

51. 👾 Pixel Goblins are voxeloids, walking about in waking life. Refugees from a reality whose servers shut down two years ago.

They eat electricity. They line the sidewalk. "Hungry," the Pixel Goblin says. She looks at your phone, hopeful.

You have 11% battery left.

52. ✴️ "I am chaos!" the boy shrieks. "A conduit of magick!"

You can hear that hard "k" from here. Baldie in an Invisibles tee and factory-distressed jeans, thinks he knows magic? Please.

Then he pisses on your headstone. Which is rude. So you possess him.

53. 👣 Footprints, made with oil. They cut across the driveway, onto the grass, leaving rainbow sludge on some clovers. They turn the corner of your house.

You turn the corner, too.

In front of you, the prints have stopped, side by side. Their toes now face you.

54. 🐷 In the middle of his emergency pandemic address, during a live broadcast, on national television --

The Prime Minister oinks.

He blinks. Clears his throat, looks at the teleprompter -- and oink-oink-oinks.

The PM's eyes blink tears. Then the broadcast cuts out.

55. 🌙 Can we trust the moon?

See its phases -- the way it goes from a bright circle, wanes into a crescent, shuts completely, then opens again, waxing half into full --

Like a creature blinking: slowly, ever so slowly.

The moon has not looked directly at us. Yet.

56. 🌺 You tuck a hibiscus in her hair. "It's pretty!" you say, before she reacts. "Plus it's patriotic."

She rolls her eyes.

Day after the party she wants to meet you. That makes you happy. She's not happy. The flower's driven a root into flesh, behind her ear.

57. 🍜 This bowl of noodles, made from soup powder, desiccated ramen, the last remaining tomato in the fridge, one overcooked egg --

It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

This shouldn't be possible. You cry. You'll never have anything this good again.

58. 🥦 "This," Mother says. "This needs to be half-size."

You know this moment. The kitchen was never your thing. You made an excuse and left to play videogames in your room. Two days later Mother died. Car accident.

This time you stay. You cut the floret in two.

59. 🌵 The Blood Prickle's blossom is prized by cities that border the Pebble Sea. Dried, smoked, its fume delivers accurate prophecies.

The Blood Prickle only blossoms when watered by the viscera of living creatures. You lead your herd of sheep into the desert.

60. 🕸️ The bungalow is covered in gossamer, like a suitcase shrink-wrapped at the airport. Shreds stick to you, glue.

"Go away!" the bungalow's owner says. You see her eight eyes peer at you from a window.

"Babe, please," you say.

"Stop stalking me!" she shouts.

61. 🐼 The ghost bear waddles across the plaza and through a wall.

They felled a forest to build this strip mall. But they did not exorcise its ghost. Ghost vines hang from the ceiling. Ghost trees fill changing rooms. In the car park a ghost brook babbles, incoherently.

62. 🕯️ You blow out the candle. "Happy birthday!"

Your friends have grey hair. Others dance to Kelly's playlist. Something in your brain snaps -- you do not know how old you are.

There is only one candle on the cake. It tells you: you are however old you want to be.

63. 🍥 At the bottom of an empty paint bucket in your backyard shed, you discover a giant millipede, dark red, curled into a spiral.

You name her Millie. Obviously.

You boyfriend is disgusted. Slightly jealous of the attention you allot her. He was always insecure.

64. 🍡 The city is a shadow. Office towers in shards. Hypermalls with their skybridges broken. Collapsed nightclubs.

In the midst of all this, on an overgrown street, incongruously -- the smell of boiling soup. Fry-oil. Fish balls. A lok lok truck, greasy and pristine.

65. ✨ The light in her eyes die when you tell her to leave.

You lose your job at the production house. Once again, you are a freelancer. Interviewers pooh-pooh your portfolio.

You will learn how to draw again. Your muse was a crutch. You must do this on your own.

66. 🔮 Everything is as kitschy as you expect. Fake-velvet curtains and tablecloth. A set of tarot cards from Etsy. Even a crystal ball!

But when the fortune-teller looks up and sees you, she says: "No no, out."

What?

"You. No. Get out," she says, afraid.

67. 🥵 Ten laps in the pool. Then you pant to the sauna.

Stones sizzle as you open the door. Somebody is here, already. You take the opposite bench. He has an athlete's thighs. Sweat on his obliques make them look oiled.

He looks you up and down. Smirks. Judges.

68. 🗨️ In the kitchen Khan grunts. Khan being Khan, you think.

Sylvia comes in. She makes an oinking sound.

He grunts. She oinks again. Hoot-hoot. He hisses in reply. It appears to be a conversation.

Sylvia sees you staring. Waves a hand in your face, asks: "Moo?"

69. 👹 "They are going to hate me," she says, frowning around her tusks."

They are going to love you," you say.

In her nervousness she walks up to the microphone, no intro, just launches right into it. Her poem is electric. She is electric. And she is yours.

70. ⚛️ Guards, gyrocopter patrols -- Coilhaus Atomworks’s compound is well-protected. Which is as you expected.

You didn't expect the hex-wards in the inner compound. When you set foot on the manager's balcony, the teak floor shrieks: INTRUDER INTRUDER INTRUDER HERE!

71. 🌂 The Bum Under The Overpass jumps out. You yelp.

"Flee, peasant!" he growls. He reeks. He has a bin lid for a buckler, a brolly for a sword. "I shall shield ye against yon creature!"

You peer into the dark under the overpass -- and notice the hulking shadow there.

72. 💀 The captain wears a cutesy plastic skull on a silver chain. You don't think it fits with her camo grease, her fatigues.

"My daughter made this," she says.

You nod. You miss your son, too. All this -- the pay you earn, burning villages -- you do for your children.

73. 🦧 "Orangutan Kong". Some sort of gangster moniker?

No. Kong is actually an orangutan. He escaped from the Zoo, and started working in Goldtooth Tat's crew. As comic relief. Everybody who laughed at him is dead now.

If you want to work for him you should know.

74. 🧠 The robot ploughs through Market Street. Tiles scatter like confetti; cars are stomped flat. Pressure in your ears -- a thunder clap! The police van up the road explodes.

"There!" your partner shouts, pointing. A brain in a glowing jar, in the robot's belly.

75. 💈 You grew up here.The broom, the hair -- the chairs, Naugahyde over industrial frames. The mirrors, angled slightly, either side leading into infinity. The sink where Uncle Kuppu rinsed his razors and shaving brush.

Uncle Kuppu's gone. This place is yours, now.

76. ⚗️ The alchemist stumbles backwards, knocks over a beaker.

"My formula," he whispers. "You're an assassin from the Bankers’ Guild? You can't have me turning lead to gold."

You shake your head. "No. I work with the Silversmiths' Guild. I'm here to protect you."

77. 🔭 It is the fourth victim he has brought home.

They are always young, with tattoos. He restrains them, strangles them by the neck on the floor of his bathroom.

You watch, through your telescope. You should report him. But you like to watch them struggle.

78. ⛩️ The way to Grand Andropolis is lined with 417 red gates -- each one for a glorious victory the Imperial Legions have won over lesser races.

Gate 412 marks the time they slaughtered your parents. You touch it, and swear quietly: you will burn Grand Andropolis.

79. 🌻 The men at the big table drink beer, munch kuaci, laugh.

A woman with sunglasses arrives. The restaurant people tell her: "Kitchen closed already. Drinks?"

Just kuaci, she says.

She watches the men. When she bites the seeds open, you see long canines.

80. 🤖 You've never considered yourself technosexual. You thought robots cold. Then you met MARY-K8.

Her bright crystal optic sensors. Her omni-articulated limbs. Her way with words:

"HEY HUMAN USER," she synthesises. "HEART-UNIT NOT FOUND. PERHAPS YOU HAVE IT?"

81. 🦖 "The job is a museum," your master sighs. "Museum's are the worst."

You ask him why.

"We are exorcists, dumb-dumb! You know how many things the damn spirit can hide in? Can throw at us?"

When you master sees the T-rex skeleton in the atrium, he sighs again.

82. 🎍 Treaties signed between the Yun Empress and the Princes of Elemental Wood have resulted in the Type-4 Rhizomic Footsoldier --

A stiff, lanky construct; needing only sun and soil; grown in vast groves; with souls of bamboo and therefore without mercy ...

83. 🧜‍♀️ Each year, the mer send an emissary to bargain with the dry world.

The tide swells, then withdraws just as quick, leaving a carriage of driftwood and flowering coral --

"Dammit!" a voice says. Rattling, from within. "Door's stuck!" A sigh. "Some help, please?"

84. 🧠 "You're always going on about life hacks. So here," Mark says.

His gift is a book. "Telekinesis In 100 Days", its title says.

Mark smirks. "Enjoy!"

You'll show the bastard! It's just day 13. Already you can toss 50-cent coins with a lift of your eyebrow.

85. 📯 The footmen blow their horns. The herald crows: "The Tyrant and Lady van Sur!"

They descend the stairs. The man frail, tubes stuck up his nose; the woman in silk, her wig so heavy it is held up by grav-suspensors --

One push of your remote, and the suspensors fail.

86. 🥶 You jolt awake. Ice is pressed to your ankle -- no, chilled skin. A toenail. Feet.

"Jesus. Your feet."

His apology is a snorted murmur. He curls further, pressing into the heat of your belly. His hair tussled, smelling of lavender.

What's his name? Can you remember?

87. 🚪 The heavy door is shut. Padlocked. Your lock sprite shakes her head. "Mechanism's rusted solid."

Your spell-dwarf grumbles. "Lead brackets, see? Shock hex won't work."

"Lemme try," your slip-spirit squeaks. Flattens itself, slips under.

Doesn't came back.

88. 🌵 The Saguaro Sea is a vast tangle of sole-cutting rock, thorny brush, towering cacti broad as hillforts.

Here is found the Weeping Roc -- whose cry is a woman wailing; who steals children to feed its blind, featherless chicks.Children like your six-year-old.

89. 💃 Flamenco star Magritte Tanaka's talent is such that people say it is more than just grace and training.

They say she made a bargain. When she dances a devil helps her; plays her like a puppet on strings.

Truth is he forces her. She never wanted to dance.

90. 🎸 You stole the keytar of synth legend Razzak Luminem from the Museum of Sidereal Art last month.

Tonight you host its auction. Many have shown up: demon worshipers; glamrock stars; violist perverts; members of the Critics' Cartel -- troublemakers.

Watch yourself.

91. 🙆‍♀️ To fear the sky falling is silly --

Except in Fading Dassho, whose most dilapidated districts sit twilit under an obsolete stellar shield, its support struts increasingly ancient and tottery. A shutter collapsed, just last week -- shattering six thousand souls.

92. 🤖 We sent unmanned drones through the Hell-portal; we assumed exposure to Ultimate Evil would be bad for the human psyche.

All moot, it turned out. Because drones are robots -- and, you know, that cliche about robots turning bad, turning KILL ALL HUMANS?

Well.

93. 🏚️ A manor-turned-hotel, on a cliff, with a history of homicide? TrueCrimeFest 2018's organisers could not resist.

Three days of signings, panels, cosplay -- and a podcaster found garroted in her room.

Horrible! Horrible. (But, really: Best. TrueCrimeFest. Ever.)

94. 🤪 The Rictus Worm causes paralysis. Distorts the muscles of the face.

Your eyes pop, your tongue hangs lolling. You speak drool and sputters. You try the chirurgeon. He thinks you are fooling. Kicks you out.

The Rictus Worm is rare. You feel it in your nape.

95. 🌌 One by one the stars disappear. Without their light -- were they ever there?Constellations vanish, nebulae fade. The moon hangs alone in the night sky.

Only our sun and its huddling planets remain. An isolated, solipsistic, self-obsessed apocalypse.

96. 🤗 She welcomes you with open arms. "Happy you're home, Ah Boy," she says, kissing you, Tears on her cheek transferring to yours.

She is your mother; she calls you Ah Boy. Return appropriate amounts of affection. Your mission depends on how well you fool this woman.

97. 🅱️ The mark is made in red ink. The letter "B". Not so bad, outsiders might think --but yours is an euphemistic society.

This is the Competency Test, through which all citizens are streamed. An "A" means you get to stay above-ground. A "B" sends you Below.

98. 🎡 Anna gets into the pod before you. The ferris wheel begins to turn.

Travelling carnivals! Holdovers from a previous world, now surmounted by app-stores. You don't get the appeal. It's not even ironic --

High up, in the pod, Anna kisses you.

Now you get it.

99. ☄️ You still remember your wonder --

A bright blue star, trailing a bright line, bisecting the sky. Staring at it would spoil your eyes, they said.

In your cockpit, as the countdown begins, you think: now you will be a bright blue star. There will be a young girl on the ground, watching.

100. 🥑 When you halve the avocado you don't find a seed. You find a tiny baby.

It is curled up foetal. It is the colour of mahogany. It fusses slightly -- then starts into a full-blown caterwaul; big droplets of blood well from where your rough knifework has nicked it.

+++

#fantasies #writing #twitter #gygaxian democracy #random generators #adventures #covid-19 #quarantine

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bellatriestowritesometimes · 5 years

Text

Ever Been In Love?

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Slightly got carried away and tried basing it loosely on the finale, changing a few things but also keeping some of it the same. To the anon who requested this, I hope I didn’t disappoint you<3

(GIF not mine, credits to creator)

hi could I request a Spencer x reader fic, kind of a redo of the whack finale, but instead of jjs confession, maybe the reader could accidentally confess, like through a lie detector instead of the truth or dare game? idk I’m SORRY if it’s too specific, I just want some angst and fluff, ty in advance💓 love your writing

You took in your surroundings once you felt your heavy eyes open. The last thing you remembered was bombarding a jewellery store in hopes of finding Casey who was the unsub and Melissa who he was going after.

You tried lifting your right hand up to wipe at the bothering, trickling feeling you felt towards your hairline, though that was proving to be difficult as heavy chains occupied both of your wrists and ankles.

You caught your own reflection in a mirrored glass window and saw that it was blood oozing out of a sore cut located on your forehead. Your eyes then took in the odd device that was strapped around your chest and only then you realised that it was a lie detector.

“What the hell is going on?” you shouted, attempting to push yourself out of the seat you were shackled in, but you were overpowered by dizziness and the thumping you felt in your head.

“Spencer? Can anyone hear me?” You raised your voice again as you tried looking for a way out. There was a door on your left of course, but the weight you felt on your limbs made it tediously difficult to try and move.

“Is anyone going to bloody answer me? Where the hell am I? Where is Spencer?” You growled, getting impatient. As far as you remembered you chased after both Casey and Melissa with Spencer. It was the both of you who barged into the jewellery store, but anything after that felt fuzzy.

“You were out for quite some time pretty,” an eager voice came through the intercom,

“Casey? Is that you hiding through a speaker?” You taunted but yelped out in pain once you felt sharp discomfort radiate through your body.

“See, now not only have I got you strapped to a lie detector- which we’re going to have some fun with, you’re also in a chair that allows me to shock you if you lie or in this case piss me off.”

“Do you have Melissa?” You stuttered out, trying to wrap your head around the situation you were in.

Casey didn’t reply but instead you heard a female voice,

“Please just give me back my daughter,” Melissa wailed over the intercom more to Casey than to you.

“Let her go. You’re not getting anywhere with this, its only a matter of time until my team finds us.”

You waited for a reply, but instead were met with the door unlocking.

A shaky Melissa cautiously stepped into the room with a gun in her hand, she warily sat down in the chair opposite you, where a laptop that was connected to the wires around your chest sat.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, your eyes darting between her scared ones and the gun she was gripping. Not giving her a chance to reply you opened your mouth once again, “Do you know where Spencer- my partner is? Is he here? Is he hurt?”

She didn’t respond to your questions but instead whispered, “I’m s-sorry. He’s making me do this, he has my daughter Candice,” she disclosed but you had already figured that part out.

Casey’s voice rang through the intercom once again, “I want to play a little game with you. The same one I played with pretty boy whilst you were out.” He paused,

“The rules are simple. Don’t lie- if you do somebody will end up dead.”

“If you think you’re going to get away with this you’re wrong,” you replied after he was finished.

“I’m not going back to jail,” he objected. Clearly you had struck a nerve.

“You’ve not only kidnapped a child and their mother, but kidnapped two federal agents, so jail is looking like a pretty good place right now.” You were in absolute disbelief on how you hadn’t figured out that Casey had been keeping tabs on the team and the case this whole time. How else could he have planned all of this?

A gunshot over the intercom made you jump, followed by a cry that escaped from Melissa,

“P-Please don’t hurt my baby Candice!”

Panic washed over you, “Okay! Okay! I’ll play just don’t hurt anyone!”

“That’s what I thought.” It was Casey speaking again, “Ever shoot anybody before?”

He had begun his game.

You took a deep breath, “Yes, I have.”

“T-truth.” Melissa clarified, waiting on Casey’s next question.

“You enjoy it?”

“No.” You groaned, lobbing your head back.

A couple of moments passed until a quiet “Lie,” fell from Melissa’s mouth.

And there the familiar jolting pain hit your body. Your hands tightly griped the arms of the chair as your face scrunched in agony.

“I told you not to lie,” Casey was shouting over your screams,

“No-no I’m not lying, okay I’m not lying! The people I shot-I had no choice but I did not enjoy it. I didn’t!” You tried to focus on anything else other than the prickly sensation travelling throughout your body.

You thought that you couldn’t possibly experience any pain that’s worse than this, but that pain was not even half of what Spencer was feeling being forced to watch you on the other side of the mirrored window. He was strapped down just like you were. Rattling the chains trying to get free, unable to listen to you screech out in agony anymore.

“Let her go!” He barked, though the focus wasn’t on him anymore.

“J-just let Candice go okay? Let her and Melissa go,” you tried saying but your mouth was dry, voice hoarse.

“What about Spencer?” Casey was enjoying this too much.

“Let him go too. Nobody else has to get hurt. This isn’t going to change anything- it’ll just make it worse for you. Make it better while you still can,” you tried bargaining with him but he just laughed.

“If I recall correctly, your biggest concern when you woke up was Spencer.”

“Is this classed as one of your questions?”

“No, no,” he chuckled. “It might be leading up to one though.”

“If you’ve hurt him I swear to God-” fury filled you as you tried getting out of the chair once more. The chains clattering against each other but it was no use. You were too weak and in too much pain.

Casey was laughing again, “Ready for my next question?”

You closed your eyes in anticipation.

“Ever been in love?”

“N-“

“Scratch that, I’ve got something better to ask,” Casey interrupted you.

A few minutes passed until he spoke again,

“Are you in love with your partner Spencer?” He asked instead.

Are you? Your self-consciousness asked. You cared about him yes, but never questioned it as anything more, or at least when you did you were quick to convince yourself that you were being irrational and selfish.

“No,” you breathed.

“...Lie.” Melissa delicately murmured hoping Casey wouldn’t hear.

But the raging shock you felt told you otherwise.

“I-yes I am, I don’t know!” You yelled but the pain wouldn’t stop.

“Please no more!” Your body was going numb but felt like it was on fire at the same time.

There was no answer over the intercom. You were close to passing out but the shock stopped just in time. Melissa was now by your chair, trying to get the chains off. You hadn’t heard or even saw the door open, but the room was now flooded with the police and not only was Melissa by you, Tara was there too. They were both telling you to stay still and Rossi had quickly instructed for one of the paramedics to help you.

“I-is Spencer okay? Have you found Candice?”

“Everyone’s fine. Luke has Candice, Spencer is getting looked at by the paramedics,” Rossi assured you.

Rossi’s wedding:

You were quick to head to the bar and were enjoying your beverage that was sure to leave a hangover, until a soft voice spoke next to you.

“How are you holding up?”

You turned to face Spencer, “I’m okay,” you smiled. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer repeated. You brought your glass to your lips,

“But I’d feel better if I told you this…” He looked into your eyes silently asking for permission to continue. You set the glass back down, already knowing where the conversation was going.

“When you were, um, with Melissa in that room...with the lie detector…” Spencer was trying to tread lightly.

“I know Spence. Tara told me that JJ and Emily both found you in the room opposite,” you finished for him, not knowing where to look.

“…You know polygraph tests are only 70 to 90% accurate, when a person is genuinely nervous its likely for it to say that they’re lying when really they’re telling the truth- I guess what I’m trying to say is that you could have been telling the truth even if it read as a lie…”

“Are you trying to spare me the embarrassment?” You tried making a joke out of something you didn’t find funny.

“No, not at all. It if makes you feel any better Casey made me take one too.”

“He did?” You questioned and Spencer nodded.

You shifted your body to face the bar instead of Spencer, “I-I think the lie detector might’ve been right,” you said lowly, “I wasn’t telling the truth… It was always too complicated to tell you how I really felt and I never realised it until that day…”

You started to feel really hot- like there was a great, big fire right in front of you, the hall starting to feel like a really cramped room.

“Y/N ask me what my answer was.”

You stayed quite, taking all of Spencer in, “Ask me Y/N,” he repeated softly.

“...What was your answer?”

“That I do,” he smiled, “in fact have feelings for you too. I didn’t need a polygraph test to make me realise, I-I guess I’ve just always had a soft spot for you,” he answered.

You didn’t say anything back, just carried on looking into his hazel eyes with an adoring smile. Spencer took that moment to try and lean forward, into what you thought was a kiss but a voice startled you both,

“I hope the only soft thing you guys are talking about is the cake that they’re about to cut,” Emily whisked by the both of you with a grin plastered across her face.

“Uh, great, we’ll be right there,” you laughed and turned your attention back to Spencer,

“Can we pick this up later?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He smiled, “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

Requests are Open<3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #angst #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds spoilers #mastserlist

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elizabethrobertajones · 6 years

Note

In the light of the return of Sam's orange jacket - an spn fashion related question: when and WHY did Dean stop wearing his jewellery and accessoires? did he take a shower one morning and was like "Man, I gotta stop wearing these fake leather bracelets"? and what did he do with it?

Oh gosh I’m so tired I shouldn’t even try to answer this… tl;dr I spent a lot of time dazedly poking around Home of the Nutty collecting bad data and assuming a thing was gone as soon as it stopped showing up the first time.

Superwiki, by the way, is kind of useless for once… it says Dean only wore the bracelets in season 1 and 2 but he blatantly has a bracelet on when he’s resurrected in 4x01 and I remember that without checking.

Dean still wearing them from time to time in at least the first part of season 5 (i.e. I dropped in on 5x04 since I figured they’d be easy to spot in the opening scene). He has uncovered forearms in the open of 5x16 and no bracelet but I was completely un-thorough so I was just grabbing random episodes where I thought I’d probably see his forearms without much clicking, and despite having once written a fic about Dean having a huge elbow fetish which accidentally shaped my entire blog, I don’t have a clue where every example of exposed Winchester arms are :P But some time in that stretch of episodes.

Dean loses the ring between 5x07 and 5x08. On his hand in the last shot of one, not on his hand in the first shot of the next, or when we roll back time to the chronological start of Changing Channels. Concoct whatever elaborate theory you like about them having never left TV land, tbh.

But yeah… Dean gives away the amulet to Cas in 5x02 for plot reasons but also the meta reasons that it was starting to annoy Jensen when he wore it all the time and it got in the way and hit him in the face. By 5x16 he’s lost ALL his major jewellery except for his watch as far as I can tell without doing a proper study on when the bracelets disappeared except that it’s between 5x04 and 5x16. Maybe it is something that they included a little more quietly, that while the amulet is the big example of it, Dean slowly sheds his entire jewellery box over the season.

I think there’s a large element of the whole loss of his sense of identity that goes through that season - that he’s going to be possessed by Michael and stop being Dean any more, to the point that it’s a blatant suicide metaphor/not even metaphor and just directly treated like it in 5x17/18. In 5x18 Dean strips off the rest of his personality, and puts it in a box; his jacket, gun and car keys.

I and many other sensitive Dean fans over the years have written quite a lot about this entirely depressing collection representing his entire identity and largely being John connected stuff (I’m too tired to delve my tag for this episode but there’s at least a couple of things there >.>), at least in the sense of the jacket he took from John, the car John gave him, and the job Dean inherited as the family business. It’s one of the times Dean packs in the family business, and he only sticks out the rest of the mytharc before going to stay with Lisa for a year. In 6x01 we see the jacket in a box with John’s journal, which he gets back out to help, and of course the jacket then disappeared IRL but with fortuitous timing that Dean gets to shed another part of his identity he made himself. I think it’s good positive stuff in season 6 that he has to start trying to forge ahead and make his own identity.

I was talking for some reason or other about all the points where you write the story up to a certain point and then you pick it up and turn it around and start writing backwards from it. Dean being possessed by Michael was the “end” of the arc about John’s influence forcing him into his worst self that every previous season had dealt with at least with one episode which made some sort of direct awful comparison to how it had destroyed Dean. (Dean telling Sam in 1x11 he wishes he knew how to think for himself, Dean selling his soul in 2x22, the demon!Dean exchange in 3x10, Alastair telling Dean how John didn’t break in Hell in 4x16, and then this in 5x18, although of course there’s some other pretty awful stuff in all these seasons, I’m just picking the anvil moments that spring straight to mind)

Anyway now I look at it and see that Dean’s jewellery disappears bit by bit through season 5 culminating in him throwing away the amulet pretty much just tells me now that it was Dean getting rid of some symbolic layer, and all for the worse in this season. In the end he takes the car and jacket to the confrontation in Stull, and then never wears the jacket again (and Baby has become too much his to argue and anyway 4x03 symbolically did sort of give her back to him in a fated way so she’s only loosely thrown in with the rest, because he did already reclaim her completely for himself). Then I think instead of building up to how this destroys Dean, he doesn’t say yes to Michael after all, and he gets an entire new lease on life where he’s freed from the pressure of the apocalypse and he enters the open waters of character development to no particular aim except personal betterment.

I think they could have played it like Dean starts wearing all the jewellery again after season 5, but I think a lot of it was a security blanket - the bracelets are lucky charms, and probably in that universe literal wards against evil, and the amulet turned out not to be lucky in the ‘i like it and wear it because i like it’ definition but actually connected to *god* and all that drama. It had to go because it was a symbol of Dean’s shattered faith in literally everything from Sam through to God (though, and I sort of hate to be That Person, not Cas because they actually bonded over this shared critical hit to their faith and I think 5x16/17 have the strongest forward momentum on the whole original Dean and Cas arc aside from 4x16). And obviously God for Dean also relates right back to John.

And I think also Dean would have less reason to start wearing all his jewellery that formed part of his skin as a hunter over that year with Lisa because he had put aside that identity - if he kept the bits, they were maybe in the box with the jacket, and I would ASSUME that box is still in some random corner of Lisa’s attic or garage and she has no clue which one of her exes left it there… (ow) or Ben found it and started wearing the jacket because why not (OW). Anyway since things happened this way, it means he left behind a part of his identity but it was an old part of his identity which had ended up linked with the bad stuff, the toxic stuff about John, and I guess for the jewellery just being a protective thing, part of the top layer of Dean. He’s a bit more emotionally naked from Gamble era onwards because she shifted the focus in the way the emotional stuff got told, and that was a sensible idea to shift from plot to character as a main priority of the writing.

Anyway sorry for the super long reply, but thanks for making me notice that Dean has all his standard jewellery at the start of season 5 and then has none of it by 5x16 because that turns out to feel massively important and this is a Huge Thought and not something cracky like I thought I was originally angling at when I saw this question and thought oh I will answer this really quickly after a long day and oops it’s past midnight and this looks like a subject that should have taken some actual work :P

#Asks #I would have gone searching for posts about #5x17 #and #6x01 #because I know I have them about the meaning of Dean's boxes of his personality #they're there if you're curious :P #5x16 #dean analysis #performing Dean #suicide mention cw #hi dabb btw and also hi michael #this is the sort of soup of dean girl nonsense I look at canon from #all the time #thanks for sorting some more of it out into something really awful :P #ow ow ow #my stuff

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whereisvanderwood · 6 years

Text

The Tenth.

Yona of the Dawn | Akatsuki no Yona

Kija x Reader - Fluff

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In the middle of re-wrapping herself in her blanket after waking up to the sun shining in her eyes, Granny burst through the door and made her get dressed instantly for the day ahead, (Y/N) strongly bluntly protesting the entire time, saying 'this is so stupid' over and over again.

Once the perfectly white dress was zipped up, hair styled for a somewhat formal occasion, and some handcrafted jewellery put on, (Y/N) was ready to meet the nine other 'fortunately selected' girls in the village square. They all looked identical to (Y/N), and suddenly that split-second feeling that she stood out from everyone else was nothing.

(Y/N) heard the girls whispering amongst each other, seeming unable to containing their excitement. She just stood there blankly staring in front of her, not feeling the least bit of shared adrenaline as Granny was dragging her potential future-husband towards them. The girls shut themselves up and stood tall, shoulders back, some puffing out their chest that little bit more than the one next to her.

"I-is this really necessary, Granny? I don't think this is the best time for this...!" Kija struggled against the old lady's grip on his ear as she was carried along her pedestal.

"White Dragon, it was your twentieth birthday not so long ago. You could have had multiple wives by now! The time has come to choose a spouse!"

"But what if my master comes? What will I do then?"

"Leave your wife behind, of course! We will look serve her as the revered White Dragon's bride!"

Kija gave up. Once Granny was set on something, she could not be disobeyed or reckoned with. He sighed, and approached the host of brides that anxiously awaited his favor. He felt something akin to intimidation as the beautiful women stared intently like vultures waiting to feast. He gulped and stood in front of the first girl in line, bracing himself with a forced smile through the nervousness.

"White Dragon," she squeaked out, "I-I can be the greatest wife you'll ever have! I'll take care of you and stay by your side forever and ever and never betray you as my perfect husband-" she stopped when Kija very quickly moved onto the next one.

The second girl was much more level-headed, but in a prideful way like she was already the determined winner of this game. Feeling as though he would be the one serving her, he moved on again, skipping the third girl who had been muttering death threats the whole time.

All were similar to the first and second, except for the tenth girl, who didn't really jump at the chance to prove her worthiness to the White Dragon.

"If White Dragon doesn't want to do this, Granny, then why are we doing it in the first place?" she suddenly said, looking straight past Kija. He definitely wasn't expecting this kind of response.

"There's a time for everything, (Y/N), and as the White Dragon's caretaker it is within my power to say that it's time for him to choose a spouse."

"But why? So you can have grandchildren?"

"Because I said so!"

"But I don't want to get married!" the girl continued to retaliate.

Kija stood there uncomfortably as the bickering continued between the two, the other girls becoming impatient and frustrated with (Y/N) and joining the squabble. The tenth eventually walked away, leaving the White Dragon to stare after her, questioning why she wasn't as equally as keen for marriage as the other selected women.

After the fail of the first attempt in finding Kija's destined bride, the ceremony was put off for the next few days, or at least until Granny modified her choices. As Kija would stroll about, his eyes would always somehow find the tenth on a stroll at the same time as him, or sitting under the great tree, central in the village.

He couldn't help thinking about her and her difference from the other ladies on that day. Sure, her attitude may not have necessarily been polite, but she wasn't afraid to go against Granny and stand her ground. Kija admired that somehow.

"Granny, what part of those girls did you find 'suitable' for being my bride?" Kija asked when he and Granny were alone in his quarters having tea.

"Are you questioning my taste?"

"No. It's just that... some of them were a little too eager, and others were a bit scary. But there's one who didn't even want to be part of it. Why did you choose those girls specifically?"

"Tsk tsk, White Dragon." The old lady shook her head. "Sometimes it isn't about how you see them as at first glance, though it's part of who they are as a person." She took a sip of her tea, letting the dragon warrior ponder on her statement.

"What about the tenth? Why did you choose her if she didn't want to be part of it?"

Granny raised her eyebrows at mention of her. "(Y/N)? Are you rethinking that you finally want to get married?"

"N-No, Granny! I'm just curious. She's not like all of the other maidens who all desperately want to be in a relationship with me." His words drifted as the name rung around in his mind over and over again.

"Well, she's beautiful isn't she?" She said as she looked out the window with tea in hand.

Kija looked out as well, and saw that she was still sitting in the same place under the tree with her pencil and notebook. Her hair sat on her shoulders perfectly with a flower tucked behind her ear, and the sun through the leaves made an enchanting set of silhouettes looking like dozens of butterflies fluttering around her. She had a fitting name, emphasising her natural beauty.

"She is..."

"I knew it! You want to marry her!"

"Granny, please!" he whispered urgently, trying to keep Granny quiet before the whole village could hear.

"Tea time is over. You must go and see her this instant." The old woman placed her cup down gently in front of her, before being dashed out of the room on her pedestal with her carriers. Kija was left stunned, not sure why Granny just left out of the blue.

He turned his head back outside and saw (Y/N). He wasn't sure why her disinterest was so interesting to him. Maybe because they shared commonality in not looking for marriage right this moment? He wanted to get to know her more, and see what else was different about her from the others. The idea of marriage could wait, no matter how impatient Granny may get.

Throughout the day he watched her washing clothes in the river, farming crops for the whole village with other workers, squishing grapes for wine to be served at banquets, and then finally joining the village's protectors who were responsible for guarding the village entrance in the thick of the fog. He didn't see her again until later on when the moon had risen.

Most were asleep by this time, but both (Y/N) and Kija were still exploring the calm of the night. They had not noticed until they accidentally bumped into each other when turning a corner.

"S-Sorry, White Dragon, I didn't see you there."

"I-It's alright, I wasn't watching where I was going myself." They apologised as they rubbed their heads.

"What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"I sometimes walk around when the stars are out. How about yourself?"

"Just getting back from guard duty. There were a few trespassers but we took care of them."

"Thank you for protecting our village. I know the village elders are grateful, as am I." Kija noticed the flower managed to remain in her hair all the day long. He thought back to when he and Granny were looking at her from his quarters' window. He blushed, recalling his thinking at the time. "D-Did you get to write today?"

"Sadly, no. I was thinking of doing it now before the moon gets covered by the clouds, though. I might not have time tomorrow."

"You sound like you're often busy."

"I am. Now if you'll excuse me, White Dragon, I bid you a good night." (Y/N) swiftly walked around him with her book in hand, and disappeared from sight. Kija sighed, hoping she would have been willing to talk a little longer.

Returning to his room, he tried to spot her from his window, but could only see the faint glow of a candle from behind the tree. Maybe she knew I'd be able to see her, he thought. He tossed and turned that night, unable to escape the many thoughts in his head.

(Y/N) was already harvesting crops when Kija had woken up. Fixing his atrocious bed hair, he went into the village square and caught up to her as she was walking by with baskets of fresh produce. He offered to help carry one of hers, but one of the other working girls gave her basket to Kija in a hurry, wanting to be the one who Kija helped. (Y/N) sighed, a little bit frustrated that they kept seeing each other.

She was not amused by, what seemed to be, the dragon's wooing tactics. She thought she made it clear enough that she was not interested, and yet here he was, squishing grapes with her. But there was something about the laughter filling the air that made her feel light. After all, the more help she had the sooner she could write again.

The time came again for (Y/N)'s shift in guard duty. "I have to go now," she told the dragon warrior. "I'll see you later, White Dragon."

"Be careful out there, (Y/N)," he smiled to her, grape juice all over his face. She giggled at how dopey he looked, making Kija blush.

He watched after her as (Y/N) caught up with her group, and he noticed her pocket-sized notebook falling out from her pocket. She was gone too soon before he could stop her, and now he was suddenly left with (Y/N)'s book, not sure what to do with it. He quickly put it into his pocket.

The hours of the day had escaped him as he found many things to do around the village that was helpful. Hearing the clattering of weaponry as he was strolling in the nighttime yet again, he saw the guarding group returning from the shift. He closed the book and jogged outside to meet (Y/N).

"E-Excuse me, (Y/N)?" he called out to her. "You dropped this earlier," he said as he shyly took it from his pocket and handed it to (Y/N). "You were gone before I could give it back to you."

She blushed as she snatched it from his hand. "Did you read it?"

"N-No, I didn't." He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. "Were there any outsiders today?"

"There weren't. I was planning on reading my book to pass the time, but I couldn't find it in my pocket anywhere. Thank you for finding it."

"No thanks necessary." Now it was his turn to blush. The others had already entered their houses, and so it was (Y/N) and Kija alone again. "Will you be writing again tonight?"

"Yes... Why do you ask?"

"M-Might I be allowed to accompany you?"

(Y/N) hesitated. She enjoyed the solitude that came with writing, but a very small part of her was saying that she wouldn't mind his company. It may be small, but it was still part of her.

"If you would like, I suppose. You might get a little bored though."

They told each other they would meet at the tree; (Y/N)'s usual place. Kija thought it might be a good idea to bring a candle so that she could see her page better. They sat side by side against the great roots of the oak, listening to the nightscape. The white dragon noticed that she had not started writing after quite a bit of time passed.

"I can't think of anything," she complained.

"How about re-reading some of your old material? Would that help?"

She nodded. "I think I'll do just that."

"Could I... perhaps hear a little?"

"I-If you want. It's a little embarrassing, though. Just one page." She cleared her throat and breathed in and out a couple of times before reading out to him.

"My mind drifts to the sky in this moment of uneasiness I find myself in. It looks like burning paper. The rims of the pink and purple clouds are being singed away like a match to parchment. Me again. And yet, although the feeling is sad, it's so beautiful to watch. Behind the chaos I continue to watch unfold in the heavens, the blue sky stands back. So beautiful, clear, pure. I wish more people, including myself, were like this."

She continued to read, and she felt more at ease the longer she did. Kija leaned back against the tree and looked up at the stars as her words melted his heart. He smiled contently. He'd never heard anyone speak in such a manner before, and from such a different perspective as well. The pages of this tiny book were endless, full of her thoughts that revealed, to him, her beautiful mind.

"You're a really good writer, (Y/N)," he said eagerly with lit-up eyes once she had finished speaking. "You have such a beautiful way with words! I've never met anyone who thinks like you."

"You flatter me, White Dragon."

"I never flatter. I-It's the truth!. You should be proud of your work." he smiled. "A-And... You're... pretty, too..."

(Y/N) averted his gaze as her cheeks went hot. "Y-You know I'm still not interested, right? Complimenting me isn't going to get you anywhere." An awkward silence followed.

The wind began to blow and the leaves rustled, making the night air very cold all of a sudden. Kija draped his cloak over (Y/N)'s shoulders, a little surprised when she didn't protest at his gesture.

Her hand rested directly next to Kija's when she put her book down beside her. Whilst still looking ahead, her eyes watched their hands sitting next to each other. Empty. Before she knew it her hand was slowly shifting itself towards the white dragon's, whose hand was doing the same thing.

Once their fingertips touched, it was like their hearts were suddenly in synch. Their little fingers linked, then their ring fingers, followed by middle and index. (Y/N) dared not look at Kija when they were then holding hands.

"...So-"

"I still don't want to get married. But..."

"Start slow?"

"I'm still figuring out stuff, so... you know..."

"It's alright." Kija turned to face her, and she finally worked up the courage to look into his glittery blue eyes. "I can wait."

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joyfullynervouscreator · 7 years

Text

Silver Secret

imagine having broken up with Fíli a long time ago and then he catches you wearing something with special significance to both of you.

@life-is-righteous

Post barrels

“Where is it?!” you cried, searching for the chain that had lived around your neck since the day you’d received the small present. Looking over the river, Kíli groaning something behind you while Fíli argued with Thorin, you wished for a small glitter of silver. Spotting the barrel you had used for your escape, you splashed back into the river, making the rest of the Company shout out in surprise.

“Thinking of sailing back to the Elves, Mjoll?” Nori asked, laughing when you threw a rude gesture at him over your shoulder, searching the barrel frantically.

The chain wasn’t there! You stared at the water, calm here but the current still swift. Staring back towards the rapids you had barely survived, you could feel tears pressing, as you once more clutched at your bare neck. It was silly, perhaps, caring so much about a small trinket, but it wasn’t so much the small silver and jade pendant as it was the sentiment attached to the gift. Fíli had given it to you, years ago, for your Nameday, back when you’d still believed he was as in love with you as he said. After the break-up, you hadn’t wanted him to know you still cared, and you’d lengthened the chain he had made, hiding the small pendant under your clothes, a constant presence nestled between your breasts. It was silly, you knew, but you had kept the gift anyway, as a reminder to your traitorously longing heart that the dwarf you loved did not want you.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Ori said, touching your shoulder and startling you out of contemplating the waters before you. You turned, brushing away the single tear that had escaped your eye. Ori was holding your chain, the small silver disc catching the sunlight as it spun slowly.

“Yes!” you cried, reaching for it. Ori smiled, clasping the chain back around your neck. “Thank you, Ori,” you gushed, leaning in to peck his cheek as your fingers wrapped around the familiar shape. Ori blushed fiercely.

“Err... you’re welcome, miss Mjoll.” He stuttered, fleeing. You followed him, splashing your way back to the bank, only to find yourself staring at the pointy end of an arrow. Your hand released your necklace, grasping for anything to use as a weapon. Someone gasped.

Fíli had seen it, as Mjoll stood defiantly before the bargeman. He recognised his own work instantly, the small silver disc, a motif of an eagle in flight above a mountain on one face and the other spelling her name. Mjoll. She had kept it? All this time? The memory of kissing her assaulted his mind; clasping the small gift around her neck as he stole a kiss from her lips on her Nameday. Obviously, she had, or she wouldn’t have had it now, Fíli thought, unable to keep from staring at her chest, as though his eyes could penetrate her shift and see the small trinket once more, making sure it was really that necklace. But why had she kept it? It wasn’t like she’d ever loved him, why keep a token of their affair? As always, the word tasted sour on his tongue, trying to stop his heart from believing that maybe – just maybe – she had, in fact, loved him as she said she did. The romantic part of his mind wanted it to be true, while the ruthlessly logical part was quick to remind him that she certainly hadn’t cared for him as more than a sweet little fling, throwing the image of her in the arms of some stranger against the part of him that wanted to soften. Fíli winced. He’d never discovered who the dwarf was that had stolen Mjoll’s heart, and in the five years that had passed since, he had not seen her walking out with anyone special on the few days where he bumped into her accidentally – nor on the slightly larger amount of days where he had been actively following her. He still remembered…

“I’ll be back for you, raklûna[1],” the dwarf had said, whispered against Mjoll’s pale hair, and Fíli could only hear him because they were standing two metres from the corner of the house, arms around each other as his heart broke.

“I’ll miss you every day,” Mjoll swore. “Be safe, please. I love you.”

The dwarf had kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, Mjoll.” with that, he had left, and Fíli had stood frozen to the ground for a long time, watching her stare after the diminishing figure.

It had taken him three days to stop feeling sick at the thought of speaking with her. On the fourth day, he’d gone to her house and broken off their entanglement.

...Fíli had no interest in being some sordid little affair, he told himself viciously, every time he had caught sight of her smiling at one of the Company and wished that she would smile so sweetly at him. Mjoll tended to ignore his presence, which had suited him quite well so far, speaking to him only of inconsequential things like ‘Did you water the ponies?’ or ‘Would you get some firewood?’.

You woke feeling someone’s hands pulling at the chain that disappeared under your borrowed dress. Bard had been scandalized to find that you were a woman – the binder for your breasts had been entirely waterlogged, and there was no hiding your bosom in nothing but a shift – but he had managed to find a dress that fit reasonably among his late wife’s, even if it was a foot and a half too long. In a couple of quick moves, you had the attacker beneath you, an eating knife pressed against his jugular. A braid whispered across the back of your hand.

“Fíli!?” you shrieked, incredulous, as Nori – the lightest sleeper, by far – lit a candle in response to the ruckus. Pinned beneath you was the furiously red-faced Heir of Thorin Oakenshield. “What in the name of Mahal and the seven Fathers did you think you were doing?” you hissed, stung by this unprovoked attack. “I’m not some camp-follower or something!”

“No, no!” Fíli tried, but you were in no mood to listen to excuses.

“Nori, would you go wake the King for me, please?” you asked sweetly. “I’d like to lodge a complaint against Fíli, son of Víli, for assaulting me in my sleep.” By now, half the Company was awake to hear your words, and Fíli’s blush was intensifying.

“What in the name of Durin is going on here?!” Thorin hollered, seeing his heir pinned beneath your furious form.

“I woke to find Fíli, son of Víli with his hands on their way into my dress,” you replied evenly, gesturing to the undone laces that did very little to conceal your ample chest. “Needless to say, it was not a welcomed advance in any way.” Getting up, you moved over to stand beside Dwalin, who wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The warrior had found you as an orphaned dwarfling and raised you like a daughter; Dwalin had taught you everything you knew about fighting. Balin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you between the two Fundinuls, as Dori moved in to put your dress to rights, clucking his tongue. Thorin stood frozen, as Fíli stared up at him from the floor. No one spoke.

“I believed we raised you better than this,” Thorin said, his voice so cold it made you shiver. “I believed you were worthy of trust, believed that we had taught you to care for those under your command and protection.” You winced, as Fíli did on the floor beneath his Uncle’s gaze. Your fury was waning slightly as you watched Thorin tear every possible strip from Fíli’s hide.

“I swear, Uncle, I didn’t mean to-” Fíli tried again, getting to his feet.

“Didn’t mean to assault a dam as she slept, as she was under MY protection?!” Thorin roared. “Or perhaps you simply didn’t mean to get caught, thinking your status as my heir would let you get away with whatever you wanted?”

“Why did you do it, Fíli?” you asked, feeling so small. This, this was the final piece of evidence that he had spoken truly when he claimed not to have loved you, you thought, wishing that you could simply disappear. “Why?” you repeated, when he turned to face you, his usually bright eyes shadowed.

“I needed…” he trailed off, looking physically hurt by the way you flinched away from him. “I needed to see.”

“Disgusting,” Thorin spat.

“No!” Fíli shouted. “Not, not that! I needed to see if I saw what I saw earlier,” he continued, which made about as much sense as a comb without teeth, you thought. Once again, he reached towards you, uncaring that Dwalin was growling low in his throat. “Why did you… keep it?” he asked, looking like you were the one torturing him. Suddenly, your fury returned tenfold. Wrapping your hand around the pendant that hung down, the chain revealed by your undone neckline, you tugged sharply, breaking the thin chain.

“This is what you wanted?” you asked, incredulous. “You piece of scum!” you seethed, throwing the broken piece of jewellery at him. Fíli caught it deftly, staring at the small token. “Take it then,” you cried, “take it and never speak to me ever again!” Furiously, you whirled, leaving Balin’s protective hold and making your way out of the house.

“Do you wish to explain that little display?” Thorin asked, his voice still as frosty as midwinter.

“I made this,” Fíli replied woodenly, staring in the direction Mjoll had vanished, his fingers wrapped tightly around the silver necklace she had thrown at him. “I gave it to her, years ago. I thought she threw it away, but she… she kept it? I just... I wanted to know why.” Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You assaulted a dam – committed a crime – to find out why a girl kept a silly piece of silver?!” he roared. “I can’t even –” Thorin shook his head. “I’ll deal with you in the morning. I’m tempted to send you back to your amad in a fish barrel right now!” Fíli nodded meekly. He could admit that he should have gone about finding answers in a different way. He didn’t even try to avoid the punch Dwalin aimed at his stomach, knowing he deserved worse. Under their laws, he ought to face a harder punishment than a punch from an enraged father-figure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Will you tell Mjoll… I’m sorry, for all of it.” Dwalin just snorted, turning on his heel to march out of the house, probably following the wayward dam.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Dwalin asked quietly, sitting down on the cold boards of the walkway beside you and wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders, turning your face into his chest when you began to weep quietly.

“Fíli gave it to me for my Nameday, just before Jofur left,” you whispered. “along with a kiss. It wasn’t a promise, he said, even if he’d like it to be.” You hiccupped a slight sob. “He broke it off with me a week later, just after Jofur left Thorinuldûm.” You sighed, “I don’t even know why I kept it, clearly he never felt anything for me.” Dwalin rumbled a soothing growly sound – he wasn’t good with words of comfort, but he managed to convey his sympathy anyway. “I thought… for a long time I thought he loved me as I loved him, Adad, really loved him.” Dwalin didn’t say anything, letting you make up your mind. “I feel stupid.”

“I always loved her,” Fíli admitted, when Kíli took up where Uncle had left off as soon as the two brothers entered the room they’d been given to share by the Master.

“WHAT?” the dark-haired prince said. Fíli laughed – a sound that was almost sobs.

“I made her that necklace because I loved her.”

“YOU were the one who broke up with her, Fíli!” Kíli cried, aghast. Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Kíli sank down onto his musty bed.

“Because she had someone else!” Fíli cried, just as hotly.

“Are you daft, nadad?” Kíli asked, poleaxed. “Mjoll only ever looked at you… just as you only looked at her. Amad has been planning your wedding for the last 20 years almost!”

“That’s not true, Kíli” Fíli replied tiredly, “I heard her tell him she loved him with my own ears.”

“Wait, tell who?”

“I don’t know!” Fíli cried, exasperated. “I couldn’t really walk up in the middle of ‘I’ll miss you every day’ and ‘I love you, too, Mjoll’ and ask who the dwarf was, could I?!” Slumping onto his own dusty mattress, Fíli continued, “I saved up the silver all through my summer guarding caravans for Glóin, giving it to her as soon as I returned home in autumn. It wasn’t even a week later I overheard her promising her love to this stranger!”

“I’d wondered why you never told me you’d broken up, actually,” Kíli said. “Wait, this was five years ago, no?” Fíli nodded, falling back onto his pillow. “But… Fíli that was the summer her older brother found Mjoll in Thorinuldûm… you know, Jofur? The brother who’d gotten separated from her, when she was little more than a pebble and Jofur got arrested for stealing food for her…” As Kíli spoke, Fíli’s face grew paler. “Jofur left in the autumn, going on a caravan job to the south; Harad or something… none of them were ever heard from again,” Kíli finished quietly.

“Oh, Mahal,” Fíli groaned. “I am an idiot.”

“Yes,” Kíli agreed evenly, “I think you’d be hard-pressed to find someone to disagree with that tonight, and even harder if you tell them you broke up with the dam of your dreams because she loves her brother. And then you assaulted her trying to find an old gift… yes, brother, you are an idiot.”

“Thank you,” Fíli replied drily. “Now help me come up with a way to fix it!”

“No idea. Repair her necklace, maybe. Oh, and grovel. Amad would say that you should grovel. Like on-your-belly grovel.” Kíli said, far too gleefully for Fíli’s taste. Covering his eyes with a groan, the older dwarf fell back on his musty pillow, nearly suffocating in the resultant cloud of dust. When he was done coughing, eyes red and streaming, Fíli picked up the small necklace he had so carefully shaped. The clasp – probably weakened from the strain of their river-journey, he thought, scrutinizing the break Mjoll had made when she yanked on the chain. If there were some pliers somewhere in this dump, he could fix it easily, wishing he could fix his other blunders just as swiftly.

[1] Precious one

Chapter 2

#fili #reader insert #fili has the dumb sometimes

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ihavenosoul12 · 7 years

Text

BURIED

Have you ever heard of that one joke? It goes a little something like this: "If I got a coin every time I had my head cut off, I'd have two coins. It's not a lot, but it's pretty strange it's happened twice." Well, my life is that joke.

Except, instead of having my head chopped off, I've been buried in a coffin, prematurely, before my death, twice.

The first time was when I was a baby. My parents couldn't deal with my crying this one time so they tried to bury me alive. Fun times.

The second time? Uh... now, actually. I'm assuming that, if you're reading this, I was either found and saved me or a gravedigger tried to rob my grave and found my body and this note. Hopefully the first.

Hoo boy, it's just going to be me and you, huh?

I'm really glad they gave me a big coffin. I can twist. Sure, it rubs on my back and sides when I twist around but it makes writing easier and I can flop on my stomach and then my back.

Oh! Oh! You're never going to guess who buried me this time! What, my parents? Ew, no, they got jailed up for attempting to bury me alive. Got shoved into care, I did, with my twin, not-nearly-buried-alive sister. She had all the luck. Well, has.

Yeah, she's the one that buried me alive. Guess wanting me dead runs in the family. I know, right?! What could little old me have done to deserve such a cruel fate?

Well, I killed her boyfriend for starters. And stole and pawned off all her jewellery. And also stole her boyfriend from her before killing him. But, uh, no one's innocent in this world.

I guess you probably don't feel sorry for me anymore.

But, hey, hey, hey, before you get your pitchforks out, I gave that guy a nice quick death. And it was accidental. My twin sister just full on made me relive my childhood trauma and is killing me slowly and purposefully by burying me alive. I suppose that maybe I shouldn't have killed her - well, my, I suppose - boyfriend but, still, accidents happen.

That's how she and I came into this Earth after all.

OOOOOOH JUST ROASTED MY SISTER. And myself.

...

God, it's lonely here.

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

So, like, it's been a while since I wrote something and I just realised that I'll have to sleep and starve in here.

Made friends with a spider. Not sure how he got in here but he's watching me from the corner. I called him Fred. Wait. No. I know. There's a tiny little hole that's Fred-sized. Probably how he got in. Hm.

I hope I don't die. Dying is not on my bucket list. Well, neither was being buried alive again but here I am. World's a bitch.

I'm so hungry. I wish I'd not eaten those cereal bars before my twin grabbed and buried me. Would have been so good right now.

Well. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll just eat Fred. Sacrifices must be made. Sorry Fred.

I think he knew what was coming cause he left. Fred why?

Hopefully he'll come back. He's my only hope for food.

Please Fred. You're my only hope.

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

Fred came back! Well, he's dead now. I ate him. Sorry if you liked spiders. They don't taste nice.

Well, I was never a meat eater. Fred wasn't even that filling. For fuck's sake, Fred.

My hunger has not been quenched. Might as well write the pain away.

So, my coffin. My home. Maybe forever. Maybe for a while.

It's a dark wood. I can trace the lines of the food with my finger and it's rough. Probably quickly made. My entire body fits in it and it's big enough for me to be able to flop over with my hips rubbing the top and bottom. There might be holes in the corner. There's definitely a hole in one corner cause Fred was able to get in.

It's really uncomfortable. I'm probably going to die and I don't even get to die in luxury. Ugh.

I think my sister always wanted to bury me alive. This coffin, though quickly made, must have taken years to plan. It's nearly my exact height. An inch off. She waited until I was fully grown to make this.

The thing is... I stole and killed her boyfriend and pawned her jewellery when we were sixteen.

We're now thirty three.

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

Entries probably won't be so long. I'm running out of energy. I'm getting so tired. It feels like forever I've been in here.

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

It's been forever. I didn't realise how thirsty I'd get and I've just realised the seriousness of the situation. I can barely write this, so tired from banging on the roof of the coffin and screaming. I don't know how deep I am. Do I even have a gravestone? Does anyone know I'm here? Or is this secret just between my sister and I?

I've been crying for a couple minutes. I got the paper a bit damp.

I'm so scared.

I don't want to die.

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

Fred brought friends. I had to eat them. They didn't taste nice either.

I didn't even give them names unless Food counts as a name.

My eyes are probably puffy from being crying so long. I could have been crying for minutes, for hours, for days. I cried until I could cry no more. I've been hiccupping for a while.

Maybe I should sleep away the time. Maybe I'll wake up and be found. Maybe I'll wake up and I'll have more energy to escape. Maybe I'll wake up and have more food.

Maybe I won't wake up again.

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

I hope the gravedigger has fun reading this.

Like my writing? Commission me! (http://ihavenosoul12.tumblr.com/post/162984770068/writing-commissions)

Check out @the-blood-series, the Tumblr blog for my book series!

#31horrificdays #day four #31 horrific days challenge #original story #Buried Eyes Hidden Lies #(this is the tag for this series of short stories)#(they're all linked)

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mollymauk-teafleak · 7 years

Note

"You're glowing" wth Pip/Theo/Ginnie? xxxxxx

Naming credits for Eli go to the wonderful @jetgirl1832

***

Theo could tell she was being a grump.

It wasn’t like it made her feel any better, it didn’t do her any good slouching down on AJ’s sofa, nursing a soda water like it was the god awful chalky tasting vitamins Pip made her take every single day, her usually gentle and sweet face creased into a scowl, shifting uncomfortably in the sequinned maternity dress Ginnie had found for her that made her look and feel like a ginormous parade float, flatly refusing to even tap her foot to the music even though the song choice was as impeccable and danceable as it always was at any party of AJ’s. It wasn’t like she was enjoying her foul mood, it made her feel more rotten than ever.

Theo just couldn’t see any other response to being kept up late, way past her bedtime, hugely pregnant with not one but two babies apparently using her bladder as some kind of bean bag, surrounded by the frankly amazing cocktails Eli had learned how to make a while ago that she wasn’t allowed to drink, the tiny apartment too hot and too loud and too dark and too everything. What other option did she have other than to sink into a jealous misery with a sense of sour justification? It was one of the very, very few perks offered to the heavily pregnant lady.

She sighed and pulled a face as someone’s tiny little legs started kicking at her tight skin, as if sharing their mother’s loss of patience with this party. Theo shifted her glass to the other hand and stroked the bulge in her dress in what she hoped was a soothing way.

“Hey now, it’s okay,” she murmured, keeping her voice low and hidden under the thrum of the music, “Another half hour and we’ll go home, I promise.”

The only reason she hadn’t called time and bailed a long time ago, taking Eliza’s offer to give her a ride home or calling an Uber or hell, even stubbornly walking the few blocks between Eli and AJ’s apartment and her own rather than stay here another minute surrounded by fun she felt so wretchedly isolated from, was because of Philip.

She could see him over in the corner, snorting his loud, thunderous laugh he took on whenever he was drunk, his face flushed and eyes bright, probably from the tequila shots Uncle Laurens kept sliding across to him when Aaron wasn’t looking and able to warn him off. Philip always laughed hard but when he was slightly unsteady on his feet, it was somehow magnified by a factor of a hundred to the point where he was now hanging off Jamie to stop himself crumpling to the ground in mirth. As Theo watched with a covetous pang, Angie dragged Philip back out into the middle of the room that was serving as a dancefloor.

As much as it was killing her not to be able to join in, Theo just couldn’t bring herself to ruin her boyfriend’s fun. This was pretty much the first time in the seven and a half months since they’d found out she was expecting that he’d let himself unwind even a little bit. He’d been stressing himself inside out trying to make sure Theo had everything she needed, that she was taken care of and wanting for nothing, working overtime so they could save money for a bigger place and a better nursery, feeling wracked with unnecessary guilt for knocking her up accidentally, pulling himself to pieces over all the inescapable minutia of pregnancy that he couldn’t fix. Both Theo and Ginnie had been trying so hard to get their boy to calm down so he wasn’t struck down by an aneurysm before he could even hold their babies and nothing had worked until now. Theo would absolutely not take this from him, knowing if she went over there and asked to go home, let on even a little of her current crankiness, Philip would start worrying all over again that he’d kept her out too late, that he was being a neglectful father, a careless boyfriend.

So, she stayed resolute, hiding out under her own little thunder cloud, battening down the hatches until she could curl up in bed back at home.

Maybe she was being too harsh, it wasn’t that bad. Things had been going okay when she’d had Eliza and Eli over here keeping her company, brightening her evening with their usual affable positivity but now Theo was alone, Eliza not able to stay too late with her little ones at home and Eli occupied doing what he usually did when he was three vodka and cokes deep, off pinning his boyfriend AJ up against the wall, making out with him so fiercely it sat right on the boarder of inappropriate to do in front of other people. No one actually knew for sure what kind of drunk her brother was, Theo observed amusedly, seeing as soon as he got even the slightest bit tipsy, he stopped talking altogether in lieu of putting his tongue in AJ’s mouth.

So here she was, without back up, without support, sighing deeply and counting down the minutes until AJ would loudly turf everyone out so he could shamelessly give in to Eli’s attempts to pull him into their bedroom.

Theo was so deep in her own growling, pacing thoughts that she didn’t even notice the sofa dipping slightly, the musical jangling of jewellery, the arrival of a delicate and delightful perfume that somehow smelled like everything elegant and fashionable in the world until Ginnie laid her hand gently on Theo’s shoulder.

“You look a little gloomy, darling,” she murmured softly, “What’s got my beautiful flower wilting?”

Theo jumped a little guiltily, trying to fix her face into something more like what a person at a party should look like, “Hey baby. Sorry, I was just…thinking.”

Ginnie’s catlike, slightly fierce face was relaxed into an expression both forgiving and knowing, “Thinking how you would like to go home, no?”

Theo flushed, caught red handed, lowering her eyes, “I’m just a little tired. It’s okay, I’m having fun.”

Ginnie didn’t argue but she leaned in and kissed her girlfriend’s cheek in a way that let her know she wasn’t fooled and she also perfectly understood and admired why she was being such a martyr, “My love. My beautiful girl.”

Theo leaned into her, hoping sincerely that Ginnie’s deep, plum coloured lipstick had left a mark on her cheek, “As long as Pip’s having fun,” she murmured conspiratorially.

“He is,” Ginnie assured, squeezing her shoulder fondly as her intense amber eyes slid over to their boyfriend, to where he was dancing with such abandon that people within arm’s reach were in danger of black eyes, “He needed this.”

Theo nodded in agreement, though her frame slumped a little, resignedly.

Ginnie purred softly, stroking Theo’s curls with perfectly manicured fingers, “Come on now, my love. There’s no reason we can’t join in. Let’s dance, I know you love this song.”

Theo wrinkled her nose, “I’ll look ridiculous.”

Ginnie looked genuinely shocked, “Never. An impossibility.”

Theo raised a sardonic eyebrow, gesturing down at her swollen belly, “I’d look like a whale trying to dance.”

If anything, that only strengthened Ginnie’s resolve into that place where there was absolutely no arguing with her. Theo and Philip were very familiar with that look in her eyes and that set to her smile.

She got to her feet, the gorgeous, effortlessly elegant cream dress she was wearing rustling and flowing over her tall form, making her look like she belonged at a soiree where art dealers and symphony directors and politicians conversed over flutes of champagne, not in AJ and Eli’s poky apartment where AJ and Alex had their usual twelve tequila shot race. Ginnie held out her hands for Theo’s, her smile so sweet, so trusting that it was impossible for her not to reach out and take them.

But still, she protested weakly, even as Ginnie swept her over to the dancefloor, “Gin, baby, no, come on…”

“Someone as beautiful as you are, my love, deserves to dance at parties,” the tall French girl shrugged like it was an obvious truth, “You owe it to the world.”

Theo blushed, disarmed enough for Ginnie to slide her into hold, “I’m not beautiful. I’m fat.”

“You are expecting,” Ginnie corrected smoothly, starting to sway carefully in time with the music, compelling Theo to move with her, “And, in any case, why should that not mean you are beautiful? You are glowing, my princess, far too gorgeous to be frowning.”

“I always thought that was just a nice way of telling pregnant people they’re sweating,” Theo grumbled but all her defences were down. She rested her head against Ginnie’s chest, feeling her girlfriend’s steady heartbeat, hearing her rich humming along to the music reverberate through her, being held so close and so safe. She was dancing with one of the two loves of her life and, despite everything, she was having fun.

Maybe Virginie de Lafayette did look and talk and dress like she belonged somewhere far away, somewhere with expensive canapés and even more expensive wine and classical music and towering crystal chandeliers and diamonds on every available surface. But she chose to be here, kissing the top of her girlfriend’s head lovingly and leading her in a slow, careful waltz like it was the only thing she wanted to do in the entire world, hand resting protectively on her bump and smiling simply.

Theo gave a dry chuckle as she realised where that odd sense of déjà vu was coming from. It seemed like a lifetime ago when she and Ginnie had been college students, dancing exactly like this up under the heavy lights of the stage at Columbia University in the spring musical which that year had been Waitress. Back then Ginnie hadn’t been in heels quite so tall, the music had been different, the set had been painted plywood, the swell in Theo’s dress had been fake, it had been an act. But the sense of closeness was exactly the same.

Theo slipped into a southern accent easily, she spent more than enough time playfully teasing Laurens with it, and the line would always be rattling around in her brain, “Maybe you and me should have an affair.”

Ginnie didn’t even pause, her rich, musical French accent morphing without hesitation into a southern American twang that was annoyingly even better than Theo’s, “No ma’am. This ain’t no affair. This is for life.”

And for the first time that evening, Theo gave a genuine smile.

#baby fluff #virginie de lafayette #philip hamilton #theodosia burr #polyamory #fluff #hope you feel better baby

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cinnamonbuneliza · 7 years

Text

Waking Up In Vegas

Write-A-Thon Day One: AU day (waking up in vegas au) John Laurens x Alexander Hamilton Words: 1540

i’m so excited for this week guys and i hope you are too!

originally, my disneyland fic that i posted the other day was going to be my au day fic, but i changed my mind last minute so here we have the waking up in vegas au!

i’m kind of tempted to make this into a series, but i’m not sure yet so let me know what you think.

the write a thon is going to be awesome. you can join in if you want! i just reblogged the prompt lists.

requests are open and i hope you’re all doing great xx

see you tomorrow for femaslash! day

The pounding hit him like a tonne of bricks.

With every tiny movement, he felt the pain intensify. He let out soft whimpers until he decided that the floor was where he would stay.

His freckly cheeks rested against the cool, damp tiles. John figured he must’ve passed out in the bathroom while trying to go to the toilet. And it seemed reasonable, because he’d woken up in weirder places after crazy nights out.

He opened his eyes slowly and let the light appear in his morning. He ignored his better judgements and sat up slowly, resting his head against the wall. He tried his best to ignore the pounding in his head as he took in his surroundings.

It seemed John had been right about the bathroom, but this wasn’t his bathroom. He couldn’t remember anything from the previous night… he wasn’t even sure if he was in South Carolina anymore, or who he was with.

He flipped through fragmented memories of the previous night. For moments, he saw his friend Hercules, and he had reason to believe that he had stayed the night at his house. But Hercules’ bathroom was warm and his house was comforting… this whole situation felt like some kind of unholy nightmare.

The weight on his finger was the thing that woke John up fully. The only jewellery he would keep on him was his mother’s necklace…

His hands flew to his neck and he let out a sigh of relief when he felt the secured clasp of the familiar metal. He relaxed, licking his dry lips.

He was still under his mother’s watch… that meant he was safe… but so many questions remained unanswered. Where was he? What was he doing here? What was the strange ring around his finger?

The door next to John swung open, revealing a shirtless man that looked a mess. Dark circles under his eyes hollowed out his face, making it look incredibly pale. He stumbled towards the sink, turning tap on and splashing his face with the warm water.

John stayed silent. Strangers had never been his friends… so coming face to face to this one in a strange place was not the way he wanted to spend his Saturday. Or at least, what he thought was Saturday. He wasn’t sure of anything right now.

He took a deep breath before deciding breaking the silence was the best thing to do in the situation. “Who are you?”

The man at the sink jumped, grabbing the closest thing to him (which happened to be a bar of soap), and pointing it at John. The soap slid out of his hands, landing at John’s feet. He felt around behind him, grabbing a toothbrush and holding it out in front of him.

“W-Who are you?” He replied, a red blush spreading over his cheeks.

John stood up slowly. “I asked first, so you should answer me first. I’ll ask again, who are you?” He asked, leaning heavily against the wall.

“My name is Alexander. Alexander Hamilton. I don’t know why I’m here. Your turn,” The man, Alexander, replied.

“Do you mind if I call you Alex?”

His question was returned with a glare, which John simply shrugged off.

“Well, my name’s John Laurens. And I remember leaving the house with my friend… but that’s the end of it. I don’t even know where we are now,” John stated, walking to the sink and checking his face in the mirror. He too carried a sleepless appearance, prominent bags staring back at him through the mirror’s reflection.

“Vegas. We’re in Vegas,” Alex stated, turning from the mirror and heading back out to the bedroom area. John raised his eyebrow, following.

“You mean like, casinos, strippers and creepy people in character costumes Vegas?” John replied, sitting on the edge of the bed where Alex had laid down on.

“No, I mean the Vegas where everything is rainbows and we’re all friends. Peace on earth, kumbaya!” he snapped, continuing to glare at John. “Could you just shut up for a few seconds? I’ve got a terrible headache.”

“So do I. We can complain about it together,” John stated, lying on the opposite side of the bed and staring at Alex. “What are your theories on last night’s happenings? I feel like my friend Hercules thought it would be funny if he set this whole thing up for me… I am surprised he didn’t find a girl though. Man, I would shit myself if I woke up next to a female.”

“I’m assuming you’re gay then,” Alex stated, picking up the room service menu on the bedside table and squinting at it as he flicked through it.

“Well, yes. I mean, I have experimented a little throughout my life, but I’m as gay as they come,” John stated, smiling proudly.

“Congratulations. I’m bisexual, but I have a girlfriend so don’t get any ideas,” Alex replied, putting the menu down and looking at John. “Personally, I think this is some kind of weird, reality TV social experiment. Or it’s a very strange dream. I hope it’s the second one. I’d like to wake up in bed next to Eliza… instead of being in this strange one.”

John scoffed. “At least you had a bed. I slept on the bathroom floor… or passed out there. I’m not completely sure honestly. All I know is that my neck hurts like a bi-“

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up before?” Alex asked, starting to go through the drawers in the bedside table.

“Well, you did continue the conversation so I had assumed-“

“You said your name was John Laurens, right? John “Jack” Laurens?” Alexander interrupted, looking at a piece of paper he had found in horror.

“That’s me,” John replied, sitting up and turning on the TV. “Why do you ask?”

Alexander gulped. Maybe if he didn’t tell anyone, it wouldn’t be real. “N-No reason. We should focus on finding a way out of here, don’t you think? Do you have any money?”

John patted down his pants, shaking his head. “While I’m as gay as they come, I’m also as broke as they come. I haven’t made a solid income in a very long time.”

“Productive. And I don’t have my wallet either, which means we’re pretty much screwed. You said you had a friend, right? Do you have a phone? Can we call them? Maybe they can-“

“Look, Hercules isn’t the best at dealing with hangovers. He mostly just sleeps them off. So, if he drank as much as I did, we’d find he’s pretty much useless to us now. Didn’t you say something about a girlfriend?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Of course! Eliza will help! But I am without a phone currently so unless you have yours…”

John sighed, taking his phone out of his pocket and passing it to him. “Here. Be as brief as possible. I don’t want an expensive phone bill,” He stated. Alexander nodded, dialling Eliza’s number.

It took three rings before she picked up. Alexander could hear her yawn, and he imagined he had woken her up.

“Hello?” She mumbled, yawning after she finished her sentence.

“Eliza! Thank the heavens. Listen, I’ve just woken up in Las Vegas with this other guy and I have no idea how I got here. My wallet and phone have disappeared, so all I have is you. All my hope is rested on you. Could you please come and pick me up? Or buy flight tickets or something. I promise to pay you back as soon as my card is returned,” Alex rambled, tapping his fingers against the bedside table anxiously.

“If I do any of those things, will you be quiet for just a second? This is a lot to take in first thing in the morning,” Eliza mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Who’s this other guy? Do you know him? Does he know you? Did you have some weird kinky sex?”

“What? Of course not. All I know is I’ve gotten myself into the worst situation possible. I’ll explain what I can when I return home. I love you more than words can say,” Alexander said, biting his lip. Had he had sex with this strange man he seemed to have accidentally married?

“I love you too Alexander. Stay strong, my love.”

The line went dead, and Alexander was left alone with the silence between him and John who was now standing by the window.

“The sky looks nice today. The clouds are round… and they look like cotton candy. It’s pure, don’t you think?”

An eyebrow was raised. Alexander went to John, standing next to him and staring out the window. Indeed, the clouds did look nice. Alexander’s eyes moved to John’s ring finger, staring at the golden ring that wrapped around his finger tightly.

They moved back to Alexander’s own hand and he gulped, seeing a similar ring on his own finger. He knew he had screwed up, but surely this man who daydreams about clouds wouldn’t notice. Surely, he would keep daydreaming.

Alexander decided it was best to dream the terrible situation away. Perhaps once he was home, this would all fade away and be nothing but a bad memory.

#john laurens #alexander hamilton #lams #john laurens x alexander hamilton #1000-2000

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