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nineteenninety-six · 4 years

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Cheater Cheater - Part 2

Here’s part two! I’m not sure I like but eh. I made Tommy into a massive asshole in this but truly speaking, he’s always an asshole so lol

I also watched Knives Out last night and omg!! What a great fucking movie, like holy shit. Fun fact, I’m a film student but I’m not a big fan of watching films lol

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder @stassiebabyy @dayna041101 @kingarthurscat @soleil-dor @gothicwidowsworld @captivatedbycillianmurphy @porcelainjokersmadness @futuristicslimemongerbanana

(I can’t tag some of the people who asked so I’ll see if I can tag you in the notes or smth)

WORD COUNT: 1837

[PART ONE]

(Y/N) strolled into the distillery, Alfie’s men greeting her as she passed by. It was nearly one pm and (Y/N) decided to bring her husband lunch, knowing that if she didn’t, he wouldn’t eat until dinner, where she would force him to eat with her.

Alfie’s tendency to spend all day working and less time eating and sleeping reminded her of a certain someone from her past, one that she had tried so hard to forget about over the past three years but it didn’t help that Alfie was very similar to him.

(Y/N) had met Alfie just a few days after she had arrived in London. She had gotten a room at a boarding house with the bit of money she had left with and was prowling the streets of London looking for a job when she had stumbled into a bakery in Camden after a long day of walking around looking for jobs and getting rejected. She had only initially gone in there to buy herself a snack but in a moment of desperation, she had asked if there were any jobs going and just after the man said there wasn’t, the hulking form of a man who had walked into the shop through the back had interrupted the man and told her there was a job vacancy. The man had introduced himself as Alfie Solomons and he was the owner of the bakery and after a brief meeting, he gave her a job of the bookkeeper for the bakery.

As time went on, (Y/N) found herself getting closer and closer to Alfie and after a few months of not so subtle flirting, Alfie had asked her out to dinner as a date and the rest was history. (Y/N) fell for Alfie hard and fast, she had doubts about being in a relationship after what had happened with Tommy and feared that she would never love someone like how she loved Tommy but Alfie quickly erased those fears and doubts and he quickly became the love of her life. (Y/N) had thought that Tommy was the one for her but after a lot of thinking, she realised that her relationship with Tommy was one-sided, she gave him all the love and affection she could whilst he could barely be bothered to reciprocate. To Tommy, she was a someone who loved him unconditionally and would do pretty much anything for him and of course, he didn’t want to throw that away, his affair with Grace wasn’t probably the only time he had cheated on her and as she spent more time with Alfie, (Y/N) realised that she hadn’t truly loved him, not like how she loved Alfie.

Alfie had treated her like a princess, always taking her out and buying her things and if she hadn’t told him that she didn’t care about those materialistic things and all she wanted was him and his love, he would still be spoiling her to this day, though he still has those moments where he gifts her extravagant and expensive things.

After a year of dating, Alfie had proposed and they married only a few months after his proposal. Their wedding was small, only a few of Alfie’s friends in attendance but (Y/N) had no-one. Despite how much she missed Ada and Polly and how much she wanted them there at her wedding, she thought it was best to cut off everyone from or connected to the Shelby family, it was only way she was going to live a safe and peaceful life, though her opinion on living a peaceful and safe life quickly changed after she was followed by a small group of men shortly after the wedding. Luckily for her, some of Alfie’s men had seen what was happening and dealt with them before anything could happen to her but it meant that night Alfie was quietly explaining about what he actually did for a living and how the bakery was just a front to his distillery business before begging and pleading for her not to leave him. (Y/N) had spent a couple of days locked up in one of the guest bedrooms, thinking about her future with Alfie and whether or not being married to a gangster is what she really wants and after those few days of thinking, she left the guest bedroom and tripped over Alfie who had been sitting outside of her door and she was pretty sure she saw tears in his eyes when she told him that she would stay with him and that she had no plan on leaving, not that he would admit he was tearing up anyway.

(Y/N) was happy and content with Alfie and he never got her involved with his illegal business, allowing her to manage to the bakery instead. Her almost three years with Alfie were pretty much perfect.

“Is in Ollie?” (Y/N) asked Alfie’s assistant, Ollie.

“Yes, Mrs Solomons but he has a meeting in a bit” Ollie gave her a smile.

“Ah okay, I won’t be long then.” With one last wave, (Y/N) left Ollie’s desk and made her way over to Alfie’s office.

(Y/N) knocked on the door before she stepped in, a wide smile coming over her face as she locked eyes with her husband.

“Mrs Solomons, how wonderful it is to see ya” Alfie smiled as he leant back on his chair.

“You’re in a good mood, Alf.” (Y/N) made her way over to him, placing the bag with Alfie’s lunch on it on his desk.

“My lovely wife has decided to come visit me, why wouldn’ ah be?” Alfie pushed himself out of his chair and walked around his desk so he could stand in front of (Y/N).

“Uh-hmm” (Y/N) hummed before she pushed herself up on her tippy-toes so that she kiss Alfie.

“Not that I don’t like to see ya luv but what’s the special occasion?” Alfie slowly walked back towards his chair, dragging (Y/N) along with him.

“I brought you some lunch, I know what you’re like.” (Y/N) allowed herself to be pulled by Alfie.

“Ahh!” (Y/N) let out a small shriek as she was suddenly pulled down as Alfie slumped down into his seat.

“Sorry darlin’” Alfie smiled at her, his large hand running up and down her thigh.

“No, you’re not, you horrible person.” (Y/N) muttered.

Alfie simply grinned at her before pulling her into a kiss.

A knock on the door along with Ollie announcing that the person Alfie was supposed to meet had arrived, had the couple pulling away from the kiss. (Y/N) hopped off of Alfie’s lap whilst the man glared at Ollie- or rather the door to his office that separated them for interrupting.

“Stop pouting Alf.” (Y/N) smiled at her husband.

Alfie good-naturedly rolled his eyes before shouting to Ollie to let the man in.

(Y/N) was too busy saying goodbye to Alfie and making sure that he remembered to eat the lunch she bought him to pay attention to who walked it but when Ollie announced who the person was, she left like a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over her and when she looked at the man with wide eyes, she found her ex-boyfriend looking back at her with surprise written on his face.

“(Y/N)?”

“T-tommy?” “How do you know my wife, Shelby?” Alfie had stood up, his large form standing behind her and a strong, comforting hand resting on the small of her back.

Tommy said nothing, still staring in shock at (Y/N) so Alfie asked (Y/N) instead.

“(Y/N)?”

“This is Tommy, I-uh, my ex from when I was in Birmingham.” (Y/N) said, reaching behind her searching for Alfie’s hand, gripping it tightly when she found it.

“The one who had cheated on you?” Alfie tensed up and growled.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) whispered.

Ollie had smartly escaped and (Y/N) was wishing that she too could escape.

“So you left me for another gangster eh?” Tommy scoffed, disbelief on his face.

“No” (Y/N) retorted, feeling insulted by Tommy’s insinuation, “I left you because you cheated on me and treated me like rubbish Thomas.”

“You blew it out of proportion. You know that if a man cheats on you, it’s because you’re lacking and he has to seek elsewhere.”

Alfie growled, ready to shout at Tommy but (Y/N) spoke up before he did,

“So you sought your way into the Irish whore’s bed who also ended up being a spy that got your brother-in-law thrown into jail and in turn severed your relationship with your only sister? Or how about when she nearly got you killed and the business ruined? I wasn’t the fucking problem Tommy, you were. You and your massive ego.”

(Y/N) didn’t know where all that came from but she was glad she spoke up and finally spoke her mind.

Tommy grit his teeth, “That’s been resolved, everything ended up fine.”

“Oh so I guess you’re still with Grace if everything ended up being fine”

Tommy’s jaw ticked as he hesitated to answer and (Y/N) instantly knew what had happened. She guessed that she was able to read him after all those years together.

“She’s left?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, “So she spied on you, betrayed you and left you.”

Tommy just glared at her.

“Good, you deserve it.” (Y/N) shook her head, a small smile on her face.

Tommy was visibly angry and opened his mouth, most likely to yell abuse at (Y/N) but Alfie cut in,

“While it was great to see ya mate,” Alfie says, sarcasm dripping from his voice before he switched to a serious and intimidating growl, “I never wanna see you again, now piss off.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue but Alfie interrupted yet again, “Any business we might have had is finished and if I see you or anyone from your fuckin’ gang around (Y/N) or in Camden, I will kill you.”

Tommy glared one more time at them before storming out of Alfie’s office, the door slamming loudly behind him.

When (Y/N) was sure Tommy was gone, she turned around and cried into Alfie’s chest. Alfie simply wrapped his arms around and slowly rocked them from side to side, whispering comforting words to her along with pressing soft kisses on her head.

When (Y/N) had stopped crying, she slightly pulled away from Alfie and looked up at him, “I’m sorry Alf.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for luv. Don’t worry about him or anyone else eh, you and me are the only one who matter.” Alfie soothed her

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Alfie and hugged him tightly, grateful for him and his love and support for her. She was glad she had found someone who loved and appreciated her for who she was.

#tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #imagines #x reader #angst #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #fanfic #alfie solomons

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aiorevelations · 3 years

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A Number, Not a Name: part 17!

In the words of Connie “You better buckle your seatbelt. It’s gonna be a strange ride.” Though strange may not be the most “accurate” word. Lol.

Present-day:

Liana sat on the edge of her bed, utterly exhausted. She placed her clutch on her nightstand and then reached down and slipped off her black heels. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had been a very long and tiring evening. On nights like tonight, it was easy for doubt to try and take over her mind. The past five years had been long and exhausting but in a few more days it would all be worth it. At least that’s what she told herself. She sat up from the bed and reached the closet. After sliding the closet door open, she started untying the bow in the back of her dress. She stopped as she eyed her bracelet, thinking back to a time nearly two decades before. Her eyes then landed on the jewelry box tucked in the corner of the closet shelf. Memories flooded her mind as she combed through its contents. Finally, she found it. Her mother’s charm bracelet.

She let out a shaky breath as she held the piece of jewelry in her hand. She remembered her sister’s gentle smile. The tender look in her eyes when she gave her the bracelet. To Neptune and Back. Forever. That’s what they had promised each other. How easily promises could be broken. It had nearly killed her inside, seeing Milena these past few weeks yet not being able to talk to her face to face. Right now they were on opposing sides of the spectrum. For both their sakes it was best to stay out of each other’s lives. The only thing they'd probably agree on would be their hatred for Dalmar. Beyond that, there wasn’t anything to bind them together.

A tear escaped Liana’s eye. She had hoped her and Milena’s love for one another would be enough but in the end, tragedy had torn them apart.

…..

Tasha lay back in bed; she had to admit, it was rather nice to feel a soft mattress beneath her after all the hours she’d spent on her feet, never mind her argument with Jason.

Only one more day. Thank goodness. She turned over, sinking her head into the pillow.

She found himself thinking about home, not her place in D.C., but the home she shared with her mom and dad, who had died a couple of years ago. It had been the best of times growing up. Being an only child one could say her parents spoiled her. Dolls, dresses, coloring books. Every gift imaginable they had given their little girl. Yet they had instilled in her a sense of responsibility and hard work. Told her to never quit on a job or task but to see it through to the end. She supposed that was why she was always determined to make sure all her assignments were a success. If only her parents could see her now. Her life as an NSA agent. She severely doubted this was the life they had had in mind for their daughter, considering how protective they had been over her. Every fall or tumble they’d be there by her side. As a girl, she’d sometimes be a little annoyed by their constant babying of her. Being such a free independent spirit all she wanted was to spread her wings and fly. Now what she wouldn’t give for them to fuss over her again. To talk to them just one more time.

Tasha turned on her side and wiped a tear streaming down her cheek. She wasn’t one to dwell on or show her feelings. She’d push them to the side and keep on going, it was easier that way. To those on the outside, it seemed like she was unaffected or even cold and distant. Like nothing affected her. As if she didn’t feel anything. But the truth was she did feel deeply. Love. Loss. Joy. Pain. Every emotion tugged at her heart. For her, especially in this line of work, it seemed better to try to forget them. It was easier not to open up. To stay closed off. Not many people could get past her walls. She’d supposed it’d stay that way.

Perhaps that’s what makes me a good agent. My ability to not let my emotions impact my decisions…unlike other people. Tasha shut her eyes and shook her head. Just forget it. Soon enough he’ll be someone else’s headache. She chuckled and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 4:30. I really need to get some sleep. Tasha closed her eyes and tried to block out the city noises in the distance.

Suddenly she felt a sharp, almost stabbing, pain in her arm and a hand cover her mouth. Her eyes shot open. She told herself to stay calm. The worst thing she could do was panic. A strong hand grabbed her right arm and dragged her out of the warm bed. As her feet touched the cold floor, Tasha stepped her right foot back behind her and twisted to the right. She found herself standing in front of an older muscular man. Tasha quickly brought her arms down and wrapped them around his legs. She leaned forward and tackled the man to the ground. She flipped over him and brought a swift hard punch to his face, sending him collapsing to the floor.

Glancing up she saw a younger brawny gentleman lunging toward her. Tasha sprang in his direction and jumped on his left leg thigh. She placed her hands on his shoulders and swung around him. She placed her right leg around his neck and then hooked it under the man’s right arm. She put her left leg under the man’s right arm, grappling it. She leaned back behind the man’s back and twisted her body to the left around the man’s arm. The movement sent him flying to the floor as she landed upright on her feet. Seeing no one else in the room Tasha quickly darted for the door. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell if they were some of Dalmar’s men or not. Right now she didn’t care.

…..

Jason brought his fist to the man’s jaw which caused him to stagger backward. The previous man he’d fought had been a lot easier to subdue. He had hoped he and Tasha would have been able to make it back D.C. without any “incidents.” I should have known this was too easy. The man brought his hand to his bloodied face and wiped away some of the blood from his mouth. His eyes were filled with rage. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. The two men faced each other silently for a moment. The man rushed toward Jason. Jason grabbed the man’s arm with his left hand and pulled it as far as he could to the left side of his body. Jason then raised the man’s arm above his head as he brought his right fist to his chest several times. The man dropped the knife and doubled over in pain. Jason grabbed the pen on his nightstand and ran as fast as he could to his room’s door. His heart was pounding and all his senses were on high alert. Capture was not an option. As he stepped outside the door he ran into someone. Instinctively he brought his fist up to the person’s face but realized it was Tasha. He could tell by the look on her face that she was just as relieved to see him as he was to see her.

“Thank God. It’s you.” Jason sighed. “I have the pen” he held it in front of her.

“We have to get out of here!” Tasha started down the hall.

“Right behind you!”

Whatever other guests were on this level Tasha and Jason were quite sure they were awake by all the noise. The thing they couldn’t afford was innocent civilians getting caught up in whatever situation they were in. The shouts of “Be quiet.” and “We’re trying to sleep.” confirmed their suspicions. Jason and Tasha had nearly reached the stairs when they saw two men holding tasers by the door leading to the stairwell.

“There’s another staircase at the other end of the hall!” Tasha yelled. They ran toward the other end of the corridor. However, they found themselves cornered as they spotted the same men they’d taken down in their suites coming towards them.

“Where to now?” Jason asked.

“Um...um” Tasha frantically looked around. Behind them, the men they’d seen by the staircase were coming closer. Things were quickly spiraling out of control, anyone could see that. Tasha spotted a passageway branching off of the main hall just beyond them. “Down that side hall.”

The two of them ran to the hall’s end. To the side, there was a large air vent. Jason quickly ripped the cover off and peered through the opening. “Looks like there’s a vertical shaft up ahead about ten yards.”

“Terrific. Vertical shafts are my favorite.” Tasha scrambled into the shaft and started making her way up. Jason clambered in after her on his elbows and knees. The shaft was dark and dank. Sharp edges of sheet metal scraped and cut against their exposed skin.

“It’s sure tight in here,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Good thing I’ve been working out.”

“Really. I hadn’t noticed.”

“Which part? How tight it is here or how I’ve been working out?”

Tasha rolled her eyes as she came to a bend in the shaft. “Do you have to use humor in every situation?”

“It’s how I cope,” Jason took a breath.“So is this how all your other missions go?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve ever had to climb in an air vent in my pajamas. The answer is no.”

“I should have figured.”

“I see some light up ahead. I think it’s the end of the shaft.”

“Good.”

Tasha winced. “Ow.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I cut my leg again on the side of the shaft.” Tasha reached the top of the vent. “We made it to the next floor.” She pressed up against the vent cover and pushed it to the side. She slid through the opening and stood up. Jason quickly exited the air vent. They each looked around, expecting any moment for their pursuers to turn up. The floor level remained all clear and eerily silent. Except for their heavy breathing, not another sound was discernible on the third story. They each eyed the staircase for a few seconds. Seeing no one they gave the other a knowing look and nod and raced to the stairs. Down the winding staircase, they went. The clattering of their footsteps resounded through the building. They were going so fast they nearly tripped on a few occasions. Tasha and Jason had reached the last landing before the ground floor when Jason felt a tingling sensation in his leg. In a split second, it turned into a searing burning pain, like an electrical current flowing through his body. Every inch of his body was in excruciating pain. He felt his legs begin to give way and he collapsed to the floor. He could hear a muffled sound. The sound of Tasha calling out to him yet he was too dazed to make out the words.

Tasha saw standing in front of her the younger gentleman she’d taken down earlier. Holding a taser in her direction. The left side of his face was still splattered in blood from the punch she’d given him earlier. “Looks like this is the end of the line” he snarled.

Tasha hurled herself at the man. The man fired off his taser gun just as Tasha reached him. The shot fired off at the ceiling. Tasha sent the man flying back into the wall behind him. The man brought his hand up Tasha’s throat. She struggled to breathe as the man’s fingers closed tighter around her neck. She brought her leg up and kicked the side of the man’s head. He released his grasp and slumped to the floor.

Tasha whipped her head around and saw two other men coming at her. She crouched down to the ground and kicked and spun her leg out toward one of the men, taking his legs out. Tasha flipped over to her feet and delivered a kick to the other man’s abdomen. The man stayed on his feet and grabbed Tasha from behind. He desperately tried to pin her arms behind her back. Before he could Tasha elbowed him in his face and placed her hand firmly behind his neck. She brought her legs to her chest and then down again to the ground, flipping the man over her head as she fell to the ground. She quickly placed her hands behind her head, lifted her legs into the air, and pushed herself back on her feet into a squat. She straightened herself up and rushed to Jason’s side.

She brought her hand to his face. “Jason, are you okay?”

He struggled to sit up. “I’m fine,” he grimaced.

“Here let me help you up.” Tasha gave him a hand and helped him to his feet.

“Thank you.” He took a breath. “Nice job by the way.”

“Thanks.” Tasha scanned their surroundings and the stairwell exit making sure it was clear. “Can you walk?”

Jason took a step forward. It was painful but nothing he couldn’t stand. “Yeah. I’ve had worse.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

…..

“White Falcon have you acquired the targets yet?” Red Sparrow’s voice came through the man’s earpiece as he ran down the hall.

“Negative” the man replied, out of breath. “Acquiring them has proved more difficult than I anticipated. Fortunately, though…” he paused to try to catch his breath “I have several...backup plans.”

“You better.” she snapped. “I’m not paying you all this money to screw this up. Understand?!”

“Completely,” he muttered in response.

…..

Tasha and Jason ran out under the portes-cochère of the hotel. Overhead the sky was still pitch black with visible stars dotting the night here and there. Two black SUVs with tinted windows were parked by the curb out front. The cars appeared unoccupied. By appearances, all the men had entered the hotel. One thing was for sure they weren’t sticking around. From behind the vehicles, a man suddenly appeared with a taser gun. Tasha and Jason ducked to the ground as he pulled the trigger. They walked crouched to the side of one of the cars and pressed against it. They quickly made their way around to the back of the SUV while the man walked around it as well. Every second felt like an eternity passing. The man appeared in front of him. Jason brought his fist square to the man’s face catching him off guard. He hit him repeatedly in the stomach and flipped him over. The man almost immediately regained his footing. Jason was still experiencing the effects of being tased earlier and could feel himself quickly losing strength. His opponent sensed this as well and punched Jason multiple times in the jaw and stomach, causing him to stumble to the ground. Tasha’s opened the trunk of the car, looking for anything useful. Inside she spotted a tire iron which she grabbed. Seeing the man’s back to her Tasha firmly gripped the tire iron and hit him as hard as she could across the head. The man fell forward to the ground, blood spewing from the gash across his head.

Jason stood up. “He’ll have a nasty headache tomorrow,” he commented as Tasha began to search the unconscious man’s pockets. Inside one of them, she found the keys to the SUV. “Got the keys.”

Tasha jumped in the driver’s seat while Jason climbed into the passenger seat beside her. She twisted the key in the ignition. The car rumbled to life. Tasha backed the car up and drove forward into the street. A shout from the entrance of The Chardell filled the air. Through the car windows, Tasha and Jason could see the rest of the men running outside and scrambling into the other SUV. Tasha spun the car on the asphalt and headed down a side road. She floored the accelerator. Cars beeped and honked. Dust filled the air as Jason and Tasha raced down the street, weaving through traffic. They could make out the car following them at full speed.

Tasha knew at higher speeds the risk of an accident astronomically increased. One could easily spin out of control or slam into another vehicle. However, that was a risk she had to take, she reasoned. She flattened the accelerator as much as she could. The reading on the speedometer went up with every passing moment. 80 mph. 90. 95. 100. The sound of guns firing filled the air. The rear window shattered, sending glass flying in every direction. Their pursuers, whoever they were, were getting desperate.

“Get down!” Tasha yelled. Jason and Tasha crouched down in their seats. More gunshots pierced the air. Glass rattled and flew every which way. On the floor. The dashboard. The leather seats. Toward their faces. Jason didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if they got caught.

…..

“What the heck are you doing?!” the man screamed. “We need them alive!”

“We are aiming for the tires! Besides you were the one going on about how we need to take them out fast!” one of the men responded as he fired his gun.

“Just hold the fire, we don’t need it!” he barked at them. He looked down at the clock located on the car dashboard. “It won’t be long now.”

…..

“What's our next step?!” Jason asked.

Tasha glanced at Jason. Panic gripped her eyes. “Try to get to a secure location. After that, I’ll try to contact Headman. He’ll either send a helicopter for us to an extraction point or try to come up with some rescue plan if we’re taken in. Though I can’t promise it’ll be successful.” Tasha looked back at the winding road ahead. “We knew the risks aft…” Tasha trailed off. Her mind felt suddenly clouded and a wave of sleepiness washed off her. She shook her head trying to shake it off. “After…after all.”

Jason put his hand on her shoulder. His eyes filled with worry and panic. “Tasha! Tasha, are you okay?!”

Tasha felt a pounding in her head and her vision blurred. She squinted her eyes desperately trying to see the road, but it was no use. A nauseous feeling came over her and she found it difficult to breathe. Every passing second she felt worse and worse.

“Jason…” Tasha struggled to speak. Jason was at a loss of what to do. They were caught in some hellish grave nightmare and there was no escaping. He pulled the pen out he had carried in his pocket. He knew they couldn’t afford for its information to be in the wrong hands. It was basic training. When facing imminent capture, discard any evidence. He quickly pressed down on the black button of the pen which was located below the two metal buttons. He held it down for five seconds. The seconds he counted down in his head. One by one the images it contained were permanently erased. Jason then glanced at Tasha. Desperation and pain were etched on her face. He could tell how hard she was trying to hold on yet she was failing.

“Here let me drive.” Jason sat up from his chair and started to move to the driver’s seat. Suddenly a wave of pain washed over him too, sending him back down. There was no mistake he’d been drugged as well. In his blurred vision, he could make out saw Tasha’s darkened form slump onto the steering wheel. Dear God…help us. He prayed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

#AIO Fanfiction #aio fanfic #Adventures in odyssey #adventuresinodyssey #jason #tasha #tasha forbes #jason whittaker #tason #tasha and jason #fanfiction

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dramaqueeenamby · 5 years

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Waves [AU]

A/N: Well, you heartless bitches asked for this, so here it is. Part 1 of 2. Only tagging the few of you who expressed interest (that I can remember lol) as I don’t want to spoil anyone else’s perfect couple.

Words: 3K

Warnings: Angst, over the top shit, etc.

TAGS: @purple-apricots @sisterwifeudaku @idilly @honeyybey @letsshamelessqueen-m @certified-kneegrow

WAVES

Summer and Chris always had a playful type of relationship, one where insults would fling back and forth, but always with the understanding that it was all in jest.

Neither ever took anything that was said to heart.

Even when Summer told Christopher to "fuck off" and "go away," he never obliged because he knew that she didn’t really mean it.

They had an understanding. They could read each other better than anyone else in their lives could.

So, when Summer started to pull away, he noticed it immediately. As she was in the middle of filming Black Panther 2, across the globe, the physical distance put a strain on things. The twins missed their mom, and while Chris would never try to say that Summer didn’t miss the kids, something was different.

Typically, she tried to visit at least once or twice a month while being away, but this time, she said that it would just be "too hard." And, really, he understood that. Marvel’s schedules were grueling. However, he felt as though she was avoiding something.

Some…one.

On several occasions, he asked her if everything was okay, and each time, she’d smile and reassure him that she was just exhausted. At first, he believed her. Why wouldn’t he? She was his wife. He trusted her with his life, and vice versa.

Eventually, Facetime and phone calls were no longer enough for the kids. They needed to see their mother in person, and really, Chris missed her just as much.

So, he decided to surprise her, flying down with the kids to Atlanta, waiting for Summer in her rented condo. It was a wonderful surprise, Elysha and Emmett glued to their mother the whole evening, talking a hole in her head, filling her in on everything she’d missed while away.

Chris was pleased. The twins needed that. However, he also needed some alone time with his wife. So when the Hemsworth kids finally went to sleep, and he attempted to make love to her, he was most definitely surprised when she rejected his advances.

"I’m tired, baby. I had a long day on set. Maybe tomorrow." With a quick kiss on the lips, Summer brought the comforter up to her neck, turned on her side, and fell off to sleep.

That was another thing.

He couldn’t even remember the last time Summer didn’t fall asleep on his chest or nestled into his side.

Still, though….he ignored it. He believed her.

And then, the next day, Summer overslept. Rushing out of the house, she left her phone behind.

He was in the middle of fixing the twins breakfast when it lit up, notifying her that she had a new iMessage.

T’Challala 😜😜😜

He frowned.

Who….

"Chad?" He spoke to himself, ready to ignore it when it chimed again. Another text from Chad. Still, though, he tried to ignore it.

On the fifth chime though, he couldn’t help it. Grabbing it, he used his fingerprint to unlock it and opened up the thread with Chadwick.

Where are you?

Ryan is going to have your ass for being late.

I thought we were supposed to meet before filming began?

Chris’s frown deepened, but he tried to sway his suspicions. It wasn’t out of the norm for co-stars to rehearse together, especially considering the close relationship between Chad and Summer’s characters.

But then….Chris absentmindedly scrolled up to read earlier messages, and the more he read….the more upset he became. It started out harmless. However, it quickly transitioned into more inappropriate conversations. Flirting. They were flirting with each other. Heavily.

And then, he reached the explicit ones, the ones that referred to the actual acts. Sexual encounters between his wife and Chadwick, someone he thought to be a friend.

Everything that happened after that…it was really a blur. He called over a friend who lived in the area to stay with the twins before he hopped in the rental car and sped over to the set, breaking almost every traffic law.

Actually getting onto the set wasn’t a problem. He easily made his way through security and forced brief hello’s to the people he walked by. The closer he got, the more enraged he became. And when he finally reached them, saw them sitting next to each other, Chadwick whispering something in Summer’s ear, he lost all sense of self-control.

"Son of a bitch."

Summer’s head snapped in the direction of her husband as did Chadwick, but even the trained martial artist and his impressive reflexes weren’t fast enough for Chris. With one swift motion, Chadwick was yanked out of his chair as Chris’s fist connected with Chadwick’s jaw in a blow that sent him flying onto the ground.

"Christopher!" Summer stood in shock as Chris waited no time in jumping on top of Chadwick, continuing to rain his fist on top of a confused Black Panther. "What are you doing!"

"Did you think I wouldn’t find out!" Chris continued to shout as his fist repeatedly connected with Chadwick’s face. Chad made fruitless efforts to separate himself from the irate Australian, but it was no use. Chris’s size in conjunction with his rage were a recipe for disaster for the South Carolina native. "Answer me, you fucking bastard!"

"Baby, please!" Summer cried, trying to grab her husband by his forearm as security attempted to intervene, one of the guards trying to move Summer away only for her to push them away. "Christopher, you’ll kill him!"

"I don’t give a fuck!"

"Christopher, please," she plead, thankful as four guards finally pried him off her nearly unconscious costar.

"How long?"

Summer couldn’t breathe. She felt as though there was an insurgent of pressure being placed on her throat, making each breath she took that much painful. "Baby, please-"

She jumped back in fear as he kicked over the closest object, a filming camera."How long, Summer!"

At that point, she wasn’t even thinking about the crowd watching the scene unfold or the on-set parademics who were attending to a bleeding Chadwick. Her only concern, her only care, was for the distraught man in front of her, whose eyes were filled with the undeniable pain he was masking with pure rage.

"Answer me!"

Pressing her lips together, she dropped her head in shame, holding onto her stomach. "T-t-hree months."

Silence.

Summer felt like she was going to pass out.

"You bitch." Her heart throbbed from the ruthless tone of both his voice and his words. Never had he called her out of her name. Ever. "So what, you film for a few hours, go back to your hotel and call up me and the kids and pretend like give a fuck about us-"

"I love you," she croaked, wincing as he kicked another object.

"Bullshit!"

"Baby," she tried to grasp his face only for him to shove her away. "Baby, please-"

"How could you do this, Summer? To the kids?"

"Baby, can we discuss this somewhere priv-"

"Why? You don’t want everyone else to know you’ve been fucking your costar, your married costar?" Chris was purposely raising his voice as to attract as much attention to the situation as he could. He wanted to humiliate her, just as she’d done him. "Then again, you could clearly give two shits about wedding vows-"

Her jaw trembled. "That’s not true."

"Oh no?" His eyes widened in disbelief as he moved closer to her, staring down at her. "So then tell me why-how the fuck you could do this?"

"Baby," Summer reached out to touch his chest only for him to pull away from her.

"Don’t touch me, Summer," he whispered harshly. "You disgust me."

"I swear to you, Christopher, it meant nothing-"

"Then why the fuck has it been going on for all this time, Summer? Huh!" He shouted. She cried harder. "You’ve been fucking him all this time, and now you really want me to believe that it meant nothing?" His volume lowered, and while Summer thought she’d be grateful, she saw that it only lowered because of the emotion seeping through the anger. Never had he looked at her with such pain. Ever.

The fury that coursed through his body briefly broke. "I love you." The way his voice broke halfway though ‘love,’ the devastated betrayal in his normally vibrant blue eyes, the slump in his posture as he stared at her with a plethora of questions and emotions.

Summer had never so strongly desired for the earth to swallow her, to rip her from this nightmare that she called a reality. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Deep down, she knew that she would be exposed.

"What’s done in the dark always comes to the light."

Grandma’s words never rang truer than in that very moment.

"There’s nothing, nothing, Summer, that I wouldn’t have done for you." Summer was no longer concerned with the audience even though most of the onlookers had dispersed as not to invade on a clearly private and intimate situation. However, what unnerved her was the way in which he was talking.

In past tense.

"You’re upset, and you have every right-"

"Don’t fucking patronize me, Summer."

"I’m not," she croaked, clasping her hands in front of her and closing her eyes. "I swear I’m not. I just-let’s talk-"

"For what? The kids are staying with me."

Her eyes shot open. "W-what?"

"The house is just as much yours as it’s mine, but I’m not uprooting the twins, so you can pack your shit-"

"W-w-wait." Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult for the Academy Award Winner, and her vision was all but a haze as her tears clouded her eyesight. "Wh-what are you saying?"

Chris stilled, turning his head to avoid the conflicting emotions that we’re making his communication that much more irrational. "What the fuck do you think I’m saying, Summer?" He forced himself to look at her, the woman he’d promised and given the world only for her to scoff and demand the universe instead. "It’s over. I want a divorce."

She scoffed, almost falling back. "N-n-no. You-you don’t mean that-" Summer laughed, delirium settling in as her preferred defense mechanism. "We-we can work through this.

"No, we can’t," he replied coldly as she dubbed over, breathing heavy and sporadically. "This-this is beyond repair."

"Don’t say that," she cried, shaking her head. "P-please don’t do this."

Chris scoffed, finally allowing the tears he’d been holding back to fall. "I didn’t." A beat. "You did."

——

Panting, sweating, eyes bloodshot and wide, he looked around the dark space, the only light emanating from the moon that dimly shone through the wall of windows on the other side of the room.

In a panic, he glanced down and to the side, shutting his eyes in silent relief. Summer laid there, turning on her side, most likely because his abrupt movement pushed her off his chest. As she shifted her body, trying to find a comfortable position, he both told himself to leave her be while reaching over to wake her up.

"Summer, he whispered, his large hand gently shaking her shoulder. When she moaned and failed to move, he increased his volume. "Summer, wake up."

She whined, moving her shoulder to shake his hand off, mumbling incoherent words.

He sighed, running his hand over his face. "Honey, it’s important."

Summer also sighed, turning on her back, eyes still closed. "Is it the kids?"

"No."

"Then fuck off, Christopher. My jaw is still sore."

He rolled his eyes and moved on to plan B. Kicking the blankets off, he reached over, lifting her up in his arms and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Christopher!" She groaned, hitting him on his back as he walked them over to the sitting area in the separate part of their large master bedroom. "I hate you."

As soon as he placed her down on the sofa, she was on her side, attempting to go back to sleep.

Chris pinched her calf, prompting her to kick him before he lifted her legs and sat down beside her, allowing her to rest her calves on his lap.

"Sweetheart, I just had the worst fucking dream."

"That I stabbed you in your eye for waking me up? Give it time. It just may become your reality."

"You cheated on me."

At that, Summer’s eyes shot open. Eyebrows furrowed, she sat up a little, supporting her weight on her elbows. "What?"

Chris kept his eyes forward while his fingers grazed her smooth legs. "With…Chadwick."

Her eyes doubled in size. "Wait a minute." Chris watched Summer sit up all the way, removing her legs from off his lap so that she could sit on them, placing her closer. "Run that by me again."

"You two had been having an affair for months. I showed up with the kids to surprise you while you were filming, and you left your phone, so I saw the texts….."

"Wait, Chadwick as in Boseman? As in married and just had a whole baby, Mr. Boseman?"

"I showed up at the set and kicked his ass-"

"Like on the actual set set?" The more she heard, the harder it was for her to believe. "Whew chile. The dream ghetto."

"You and I got into it, well, really, I was furious-" he stopped when he heard snickering. "What the hell, Summer?" She was laughing. Literally, genuinely, wholeheartedly laughing. Hand over her mouth, Summer was clearly humored by the whole scenario. "This shit isn’t funny."

"No, it’s fucking hilarious." She corrected, wiping at her teary eyes. "Can you imagine me messing around with Chad’s cranky ass? Love him to death, great guy, but he can be a bit boring-"

"What exactly do you love about him?"

"Chris." She rolled her eyes, clearing her throat to get back to the topic at hand. "Really?"

"It’s a legitimate question."

She pushed her lips together and tilted her head to the side. "Is it though?"

Chris’s eyes fell over to the nightstand on her side of the bed. "Would you let me see your phone?"

Summer paused and chuckled. "That’s funny." She waited for him to say something, to join in on the joke, but he never did. "Christopher…" The Australian gleaned from the way his wife pulled away from him, her shoulders dropped, and eyes wide with surprise, that he’d perhaps gone too far. "You…do you not trust me?"

He reached over and pulled her back into his side. "Of course, I do."

Summer pulled away and climbed off the sofa. "It doesn’t sound like it."

He sighed. The last thing he’d meant to do was hurt her, and it was painfully evident that that was exactly what he’d done.

Standing up, he looked to see her laying on her side, on the bed, back toward him.

"Summer…." She remained quiet. "Honey-"

"How could you even allow yourself to think that I would-that I even could cheat on you?" She finally spoke, leaning up on her elbows to look at him. Chris turned his head to keep him from seeing the tears glistening in her eyes.

"I didn’t mean it like that-"

"Then how the hell did you mean it?" She demanded, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "Because it sure as hell sounded like that."

Gently grasping her by her arms, he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms and securing them under her chest. "Summer, listen to me." He pressed his lips into the back of her shoulder. "And I know that our schedules have been hectic the past few months-"

"So what, because I don’t see you for a little while, you think I’m just going to seek comfort in the arms of another man?" She murmured, Chris noticing the decreased hostility in her voice as a sign that she was calming down.

"I just-I want, fuck, I need you to know, to always know how much I love you, and that I never want to do anything to make you feel unloved or to push you away."

"You won’t, Christopher," she sighed, placing her hand over his. "Unless you wake me up again because of some crazy ass dream, then I’m leaving your long neck ass for the pool boy."

"We don’t have a pool boy, Summer."

She chewed on her bottom lip. "I didn’t tell you." She yelped as he flipped them over so that she was on her back, his body hovered over hers. "His name is-"

"I don’t give a shit," he abruptly cut her off, kissing along her jaw, his hand moving up the side of her thigh.

She pouted. "Very rude, Mr. Hemsworth."

"My apologies, Mrs. Hemsworth," he chuckled, ripping off her underwear in one swift swipe. "Allow me to make it up to you."

Chris went to pull her shirt over her head when she stopped him. He frowned as she brought her hand to his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Hey." Summer lifted her other hand to his face, pushing back the short strings of hair that slightly grazed his forehead. "It’s you." He gave her a faint smile. "Always you, baby."

He pecked the top of her breast. "I love you."

She smiled and licked her lips, allowing him to lift her shirt over her head. "I love you too, Son of Odin."

He groaned. "Summer."

"Sorry," she laughed, quickly switching positions so that she was on top of him. "Allow me to make it up to you."

And that was exactly what she did, all while managing to avoid Chris looking through her phone…..

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x OC #chris hemsworth oneshot #fic: waves

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bigsnzstanacct · 4 years

Text

Michelle At The Theater

Another old fic, since the forum is down. Female giant sneezes, with a very very very very long holdback, lol. Posting the whole thing as one story, rather than in parts bc why not.

Michelle wasn’t a theater type of girl. There were a number of reasons for this: for one, Michelle liked rock concerts. She liked moshing, she liked to jump up and down, chug a beer in between songs, she liked the high of the crowd. She wasn’t much for fine, disinterested observation. She wasn’t much for refined ladies and gentlemen in suits. She wasn’t much for culture, the way people pronounced it, with the italics implied. It wasn’t Michelle’s scene. Certainly, she didn’t look the part: tattoos visible even under what her roommate had called “very sensible theatergoing attire.” Her cleavage was still more than obvious under the blouse Michelle—and really, Michelle’s roommate—had chosen for the evening, the tops of her full breasts inviting more than a few glances, most of which at least attempted subtlety. Her wrists and neck were still covered in bracelets and jewelry. She hadn’t bothered to take out the several piercings on her upper ears. A stud accentuated the corner of her broad, protruding nose—in high school, they called it her “beak,” and in typical Michelle fashion, she’d laughed right along with them and taken to using the term herself. And that nose was the other problem with Michelle and theaters. Theaters made Michelle’s nose itch like crazy.

“HhheeeeuuuhhHHHHhhh… huUUUUUUhhhhhh…” Michelle gasped and hitched, doing her best to keep her allergic reaction to an absolute minimum, lest she attract attention. She’d kept it together all through the impossibly long queue to use the restroom, she’d used all the tricks and tips she’d taught herself over the long years of suffering that sneezy sensation anytime an unfamiliar scent tickled her nostrils. And boy was it tickling now, her broad nose flaring and twitching and wriggling with life. Internally, she pleaded with her nose: okay, come on… just one more act… we can make it through, and then as soon as the play is over, we’ll… we’ll make excuses and rush home and you can blast as hard as you want but please… please… PLEASE… not here, not now! But still, despite her best efforts, she felt that uncontrollable desire sinking in, a weakness beginning to fill her lungs with pressure, the twinging, pleading itch working its way through her defenses… soon she would begin to hitch in earnest, and by then, the reaction would be all-but-unstoppable. Even as she dreaded it, she felt her eyes flutter shut, her chest begin to swell with subtle breaths—though they wouldn’t remain subtle for long—her whole body going weak and lax as she submitted to the overwhelming feeling growing in her wide, twitching nose… Suddenly, the lights flashed, shaking Michelle out of her sneezy reverie. Over the loudspeaker was heard “FIVE MINUTES TO ACT TWO. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, FIVE MINUTES.” Michelle nearly jumped in surprise, and luckily that surprise was enough to frighten the sneeze away from her nose, the lapse in concentration allowing her to evade, for the moment, the tendrils of itch that wafted through her nasal passages, teasing her with how good it would feel to finally unload. But no… she couldn’t. And that, of course, was the third and by far the most important reason why Michelle wasn’t a theatergoer. Her sneezes were not just noisy explosions that might interrupt a performance or draw unwanted attention. No, her sneezes were… frightening. When Michelle sneezed, she unleashed a power that was more fit for a small explosive device than a sneezy young lady. Somehow, Michelle’s lungs had the capacity to suck in what must be an otherworldly amount of air, to fuel an eruption that had done much more than blast eardrums and frighten passersby. No, Michelle’s sneezes had blown over fences, redecorated living rooms, decimated cookouts, blasted away anything that wasn’t firmly tied down—and sometimes things that were. When Michelle had to sneeze, she was more a force of nature than the pretty, busty woman she generally appeared to be. The hurricanes she could unleash sent her friends and family running for cover on countless occasions, and her frequently-futile attempts to warn passersby were almost never heeded the first time—and always heeded the second. She’d been asked, more times than she could count, why she couldn’t control or tame the almighty force of her nose, and she had no answer except… when that feeling came over her, she was powerless. She could fight it for a while, but eventually, the sensation, the desire to explode, became too great. Michelle became weak before the gale force power that swirled and built in her chest and sooner or later… she had to sneeze. She unlatched the door to the cubicle where she’d hid to try to get her sneezy urges under control. In a situation like this, ordinarily she’d just leave, find a deserted alleyway, or even run to her home, just find somewhere safe for her to give into the urge building in her heaving chest… but, this time, just this once, she couldn’t. She couldn’t escape, she couldn’t leave because… well, because of him. She glanced down at her program as she exited the restroom, beaming at his headshot: Tim Carter. She hadn’t been head over heels like this for a boy since she was seventeen, maybe ever. They’d been seeing each other for a month or two, and she couldn’t turn down his invitations to the show his was performing in anymore, especially given that it was closing. He had been so excited to show her his play, had talked about it endlessly, his character, the cast, the director… she had to see it. So she’d consented to attend the final performance of the play. But she hadn’t anticipated how badly her nose would react to the theater, and especially to… Michelle’s heart dropped as she reached her row and prepared to sit. There was a woman seated next to her who smelled as though she had bathed in perfume, a delicate floral scent that made Michelle want to convulse with sneeze after violent sneeze, not caring if her out-of-control nose took out the whole theater… but no. She had to control herself. Tim wasn’t just about to find out about her, ah, nasal condition by her blasting away in the middle of his play. She would be beyond mortified. So she would just have to keep her nose under control. But as she sat down, the lights dimming in preparation for the second act, hideous floral perfume teasing her nose, her chest beginning to heave again, ever so slightly audible despite her best attempts to keep quiet… she inwardly despaired. It was going to be quite a feat, one she’d never really accomplished before but… for Tim—she snuck one last look at his face in the program before the house went dark—she would have to keep her nose under control.

---

It was only twenty minutes into the second act, and Michelle was ready to despair. She’d never felt an itch like this before. Already, she was eagerly anticipating any loud moment in the show, just so she could allow herself a few torturous gasps. And even then, she knew she’d been audible over the noise of the show, at least once, her high falsetto pre-sneeze shrieks drowning out an actor—though thankfully when Tim himself was off-stage. But it was torture. Michelle had no idea how she would survive another thirty minutes of this. Her whole body wanted nothing more than to give in to the itch and unleash sneeze after sneeze after sneeze. Her control faded in and out—some moments she was confident that she could hold off for a long as she needed to; in others the urge to sneeze was imminent and uncontrollable. She’d brought herself back from the precipice of sneeze after sneeze, her wide nostrils flaring and sniffing, her chest loosening with the power of the oncoming sneeze. She was red-faced with shame at all of the glances and glares she was receiving, most prominently from the perfume-drenched woman to the side of her, who seemed vaguely aware of how her scent was contributing to Michelle’s distress, and, rather than responding sympathetically or at all appropriately, seemed instead to be offended at the notion that her perfume could cause anything but delight. If only she could imagine the eventual result of all of Michelle’s gasping and hitching! But, Michelle reminded herself, no matter how desperately she wanted to sneeze, no one in this audience, or, more importantly, on stage, would be privy to that “result.” No, there was no way Michelle was going to give in and blast out one of her gale-force sneezes in this theater. She would never embarrass Tim that way… And even as she thought it, it seemed that a tendril of perfume snuck its way into the deepest and most sensitive place in the back of her left nostril, igniting that crazy itch that presaged one of Michelle’s thermonuclear sneezes. She tried to ignore it at first, tried to focus on what was happening onstage, but already, her eyes were beginning to tear, her breath become less and less steady. “Hh-hehhh…” a tiny, but audible hitch escaped Michelle. She glanced to the left and right of her, hoping no one had heard her lapse in control. There were no eyes on her yet, everyone—except Michelle—riveted to what was happening on-stage. But her nose still tickled terribly, the itch all but overwhelming her broad nose, the wide tunnels of her nostrils flaring uncontrollably. Her nose was helplessly scrunching, still soundless until… “HAH! HAH!” Michelle rushed a hand to her nose, soothing it as best she could. That had come on so suddenly—her head had tilted back, her breasts pushing against her shirt as her torso arched. The urges were coming more quickly now. Worst of all, eyes all around her turned. Even one of the actors on stage seemed to be eyeing the row where Michelle sat. Venomously, the perfumed woman turned to her and spat: “would you be quiet? We are trying to watch the theater!” It was a whisper, but it was clear that the people nearby had heard, were nodding in agreement, all frustrated by the noisy, gasping woman in 4N… if only they knew the disaster, the chaos Michelle was sparing them, she began to think darkly. If only they knew what a massive explosion she was only barely holding at bay. They wouldn’t be glaring about a few errant gasps if they knew what her real buildup sounded like, let alone her actual sneeze…! As she thought, the itch in her nose receded from her consciousness. She released a breath, audible but even, not distorted with an oncoming sneeze. It attracted a few more glares and whispers, but Michelle ignored them, resisting the urge to flip off a few nearby gossips. She’d endured this torture before, choking back sneezy gasps throughout large college lectures, rushing to one of her safe spots on campus as soon as the lecture let out and erupting with a whole fit of her gale-force sneezes, sometimes terrifying others with their volume, but at least avoiding blasting anything over or sending any articles of clothing flying. Of course, Michelle’s life had included more than her fair share of both of those… “And if I leave now,” a woman called from the stage, “I’m not coming back.” Ugh, theater. Michelle rolled her eyes as the woman onstage stomped offstage, a doorslam sound effect ringing from the speakers. Michelle rolled her eyes as the stage went dark. Quickly, she shut her eyes. She’d learned quite quickly that the sudden burst of light when the stage lights came on at the top of a new scene was hell on the tickle in her nose, had very nearly induced a full-on explosion midway through act one. Michelle had narrowly avoided the worst by squeezing her nose shut and closing her eyes, taking deep, deliberate breaths through her mouth until the itch in her nose receded to a manageable level. She wasn’t going to get caught with another blast of light again. She knew if she did, this time there’d be no stopping the sneeze. And that would be disastrous. Especially because, as she discovered when she opened her eyes, Tim was onstage now. Which meant… oh this was his big scene! She’d made it! She half wished she could leave after this scene, but this meant that she was in the home stretch. It was just his big scene near the end of the play, then one more brief crowd scene to wrap up the story, and she’d be home free. She would bolt from the theater. There was an alleyway nearby where she knew she could unleash her sneezes, and all they would do was upend a few garbage cans, hardly the worst thing that had occurred as a result of Michelle’s super-powered nose. Watching Tim onstage, for the first time all night, she was enraptured. What seemed phony and boring from the other performers seemed like real life from Tim. What seemed dull was suddenly ablaze. Every word he spoke fell like thunder, every glance he gave was like fire. He was gifted, to say the least. Or maybe she was just in love. Whatever it was, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Couldn’t focus on anything but him. Couldn’t focus on… “hhhhheeeeee-EEEEHHHHHH…” She only awoke from her Tim-centric reverie when she heard her own breath hitch, loud enough to be completely audible. She could have sworn she saw, ever so briefly, Tim’s eyes twitch towards her, which set her cheeks on fire with embarrassment. But she had no time to focus on her embarrassment, not when she’d let the sneeze grow so much, not when she’d let it come so close. She was unable to choke back another sneezy gasp, horribly loud, “HHHAAAAAAAAHHHHH…” She fumbled around in her purse for a tissue… sometimes, when her nose was this far gone, she could placate the tickle with a blow, it would buy her enough time and control to at least hold back until the end of the show… it was only a few more minutes… Another audible “EEEEHHHHHHH…” ruffled the skirts of the women around her, and set off a round of muttering through the theater, as people craned their necks to ascertain the source of the distracting noises, trying to figure out who or what it was that was distracting them from the entertainment of the play. As another sneezy gasp shook the room—thankfully not literally… not yet anyway—she heard an older woman whisper fiercely at her: “Here! Stop fumbling and take this. Get yourself under control right now, young lady!” And then, at her fingertips, blessedly, was a soft, cotton handkerchief. Not so much as taking a moment to think about it, unable to think about it, her mind so clouded with the need to sneeze, Michelle grabbed the handkerchief and smothered her nose in its comforting folds, giving a snuffling, congested hiss of a blow, feeling a moment of blessed comfort and respite. But only a moment. Suddenly, the tickle in her nose increased tenfold… twentyfold… more. She gave a delicate sniff and the tickle only worsened, which is when she realized… She pulled the handkerchief away from her nose, looked at it in a panic, through rapidly-closing eyes, then looked to her side… oh god, the handkerchief had come from that woman whose perfume was causing Michelle’s nose such agony. And the handkerchief was soaked in it. Michelle felt panic settle in her stomach, and yet, at the same time, an odd sense of almost-calm washed over her. The sneeze was inevitable now. Her eyes bulged, looking to the left and the right, her body still going through the motions of panic. She tried dimly to warn someone, anyone but… even Tim had disappeared. The whole world had narrowed to her and her nose, to her and her rapidly-mounthing sneeze. “I… HUUUUUUHHHH… GOTTA… HHHUUUUUUHHHH… SNEEZE… HHHHUUUAAAAAHHHHHHHH… RUN!” That was the last word Michelle was able to speak, a breath, a prayer of warning before she lost all control, and her nose took over. Her breaths were beyond audible now. They were gasps, shouts, roars, as her breath sawed in and out, more air catching in her lungs each time. This was how Michelle built to one of her catastrophic sneezes, a long, final series of ferocious gasped breaths, breaths that grew from stirring skirts to ruffling the enormous curtains at the wings of the stage. The actors tried valiantly to continue over the noise—the show must go on, after all—but the audience’s attention was riveted to the young woman in the front, whose head was tilting back so that her nose was pointed almost to the cavernous ceiling. Some were shouting at her to keep it down, others merely watching shocked and transfixed at this very different kind of performance, this seemingly unending and unstoppable buildup, like a lit fuse that grows brighter and brighter as it reaches towards the explosive climax. An usher marched over to Michelle as though to escort her from the building. But when the usher felt her hair beginning to fly all over, her jacket flapping wildly in the breeze kicked up by Michelle’s breaths, her eyes widened and she thought better of it. In fact, more than a few theatergoers, particularly those nearby, had obeyed Michelle’s injunction to flee, wisely clutching purses, jewelry, various small items that had begun to move as the tidal flow of Michelle’s breath drew in and out, in and out. For Michelle herself, she was utterly given over to the sneeze. This awful pressure. She felt in building in her lungs, she felt it building in her nose, she felt it building in her whole body. Her face was creased and clenched into a grimace of sneezy desperation, tears running down her face, and her nose twitching with every hitched breath. Her mouth hung open to receive more air, her head arched far back, bringing her generous cleavage more and more into view, pressing against her top. After what felt like a solid minute of gasping building—over the course of which the actors had finally stopped speaking, staring in astonishment at the sneezy girl, as everyone else in the theater was—all went silent. Michelle felt like a balloon, full of air and ready to pop. The itch in her nose felt like it had expanded to fill her whole face, her whole body. No matter what else happened, she couldn’t stop. She had to let that maddening tickle OUT. She had to unleash the fury of her nose. Michelle had to sneeze. So she did.

---

“AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIII…”

Michelle’s head flew forward with a shriek of sound that easily filled the theater as even the actors’ amplified voices could not, a scream of pure uncontrollable release so violent that patrons near her clamped their hands to their ears or jumped in their seats, startled by the almighty burst of sound that overtook Michelle completely as she gave in at last, overwhelmed by the ticklish needs of her large, broad, endlessly itchy nose. It was a sort of preparatory scream, her vocal chords helplessly engaged against the tremendous surge of air that was flying up, up, up, endlessly up from her lungs and irresistibly out of her nose and mouth, a fierce gale that struck the room as Michelle bent double in her seat.

“TTTTTTTTTTCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!”

The blast struck the theatergoers in front of her first, those who had been too foolish to move at Michelle’s barely-gasped-out warning. It knocked some clean out of their seats, though most suffered only the loss of their programs, their purses, and any items not tied down firmly to their person or the seat. One could even see a surprising number of wigs and toupees caught in the blast, flying towards the stage. Michelle just kept blasting out air, more and more, unwilling and unable to stop until the sneeze had emptied out her impossibly ample lungs, and her heavy breasts rested on her knees.

When the violent gust Michelle unleashed struck the stage, it bowled at least two actors clean over. Thank God in her bleary-eyed, allergic state, Michelle had no hope of identifying who. Meanwhile props flew everywhere, striking the back wall of the stage with a great clamor, the wooden flats just barely holding under the strain of her sneeze… at least until a large set piece, a grandfather clock, tipped right over and tore through one of the large wooden backdrops that made up the walls of the play’s drawing room. And beyond that, everything (and everyone) had been sprayed damp, some of the furniture dripping in the aftermath of Michelle’s hurricane.

Everyone stood shocked a moment before the panic set in. Michelle was panting, trying to recover from the explosion she’d just released, praying, hoping against hope that one of her monstrous sneezes would be enough to sate her nose… but after the evening-long torture it had endured, Michelle knew the hope of appeasing her nose with one measly sneeze was slim to say the least. And indeed, her pants of recovery quickly turned into pants of irritation, to hitched breaths, as she vaguely raised one hand, whether in preparation of the sneeze or in the vain hope of warding it off, towards her wide, flaring, red nostrils, towards the protruding bulb of her nose, even as she drew into another sneezy gasp.

By now, everyone knew what to expect, and it was pandemonium, patrons climbing over each other to get out of the way of Michelle’s monstrous sneeze, even the actors trying to get off of the stage before she unleashed, the stage managers obviously torn between saving the set and saving themselves, as random headset-wearing women wandered into view of the audience, obviously wracking their brains for a solution to the typhoon that had walked into their theater.

For Michelle’s part, she knew that if she allowed herself to stay seated, to sneeze it out as she needed to, her nose would all but bring the theater down. No, somehow she would have to move, would have to escape to somewhere else as she unleashed her full fit. But she couldn’t do that caught in the grip of one of her almighty buildups, and so she didn’t even try to stop it as her lungs filled again with air, her back arching, chest pointed towards the sky before she flew forward with a monstrous; “WWWWHHHAAAASSSSSHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” It was another hurricane, this one even stronger than the last, causing one of the wooden flats on the stage to creak and splinter into two under the force of her gale. There were audible gasps as still more hairpieces and jewelry went flying. Had Michelle been able to open her eyes, she would have been treated to the sight of the woman whose horrible perfume precipitated this whole mess, hairless and mortified, literally clutching the pearls around her neck, her small handbag long since lost to Hurricane Michelle.

In the brief moment of calm after her monstrous sneeze, Michelle struggled to get up and get down the aisle, even as she felt her traitorous nose begin to kick into gear yet again… “Pl-pleeeaahhhh… please y-you gaaahhHHHhhhh… you g-gottaahhhhhhh lehhhhHHH…l-let me th-th-thahhhh… let me through…” she said, fighting back the sneeze even as she fought her way towards the exit to the theater. The stage managers, at last seeing something they could do to save what was left of their set, quickly seized on the opportunity to get Michelle out of the building. Just as Michelle’s eyes were closing, her head tipping back with another sneeze, she felt two strong hands on her arms, and she allowed herself to be guided towards a back exit, though as she gave a final sneezy gasp, she felt the hands vanish, clearly unwilling to be caught point blank by one of her hurricanes.

She gave a final monstrous “EEERRRRRUUUUUUSSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” that caused a rather terrifying cracking sound, as she exited the theater and emerged in the bright light of the alley. Looking around, she saw the alley she’d hoped to escape to earlier, nothing but trash cans left to blow away. And even as she looked around, scanning in case she was in danger of blowing away anything (else) important, she was caught full in the face with a blast of sunlight, that made her poor, desperately tickled nose completely give in, and she felt her chest heaving and gasping as she gave into a fusillade of sneezes, a monstrous, violent fit that felt even bigger than the sneezes she’d unleashed inside the theater. She was sure they were clearly audible, not only in the theater she’d just left, but in all the buildings around the block:

“EEEEEEEEEESSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOO! HHHAAAAATTTTTSSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOO!! AAAIIIIIIITTTTCCCCHHHHEEWWWWWWWWWW!!”

And yet she could not stop! If anything, the sneezes seemed to grow in force and violence, as she shut her eyes and whipped back and forth, utterly given over to the all-consuming itch in her nose, her nose seeming to get its revenge for those long hours of delayed and denied sneezes, taking full control and forcing Michelle to erupt with sneeze after sneeze after sneeze.

At last, after what felt like five full minutes of gasping, hitching, and exploding, Michelle was spent. She collapsed, still bent double from her final sneeze, an absolute roar of a “WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAYYYYY!!” that was still echoing against the concrete, still ringing in Michelle’s ears. She rested her hands against one wall of the theater, before easing herself slowly to a seated position, trying to recover from her awe-inspiring fit, probably the worst she’d ever suffered.

The alleyway was wrecked. Explosions of garbage littered the area, a huge metal dumpster overturned by the fury of Michelle’s nose, several trash cans overturned, bags burst when they flew against the concrete walls. It seemed that even the stairs of the fire escapes had shifted in reaction. Michelle was half-convinced she saw tiny cracks forming in the concrete walls.

As she gradually recovered, panting without danger of another eruption, she allowed her worry to fill her mind. What kind of damage had she caused? What would she have to pay? She was sure she could cover it—her parents had long since set up a fund and an insurance policy, as this was hardly the first time Michelle’s nose had created trouble—but she was far more concerned with… Tim.

And as if thinking of him could make him appear, suddenly he burst from the theater, face red and eyes wild. Oh god, not only was he going to dump her, he was going to scream at her first. Michelle could only look up weakly, eyes puffy and red, nostrils still rimmed pink, still flushed from her overwhelming sneeze. She tried to speak but he cut her off:

“No, Michelle, just… let me…” and with that he produced a feather from one hand, clearly stolen from some costume or prop, and inserted it into his nose, wiggling it and tickling until…

“HHHHHAAAAAAAAA-CHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” He unleashed a typhoon to rival one of Michelle’s own. She watch in astonishment as the alleyway, already in complete disarray from Michelle’s blasts, took another explosion, the huge dumpster she’d overturned scooting a few feet farther in the wake of Tim’s sneeze.

She looked up, eyes widening, mouth dropping open, heart in her throat, as he straightened up and recovered from his sneeze, hands on his knees. “I uh…” Michelle said, all she could think to say. As for Tim, he raised his head, walked very slowly towards Michelle and placed one kiss, restrained and yet obviously eager, on her lips. He pulled back, a sombre look on his face, as he said: “No pepper on dates. Ever.”

That dissolved Michelle into peals of laughter, which proved infectious and quickly caught Tim too, until they were both sitting against the building, laughing their heads off, in the wake of the natural disaster that was Michelle’s trip to the theater.

#snz story #gigantic sneezes #female allergies

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bookishbloggerreviews · 6 years

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The Moonburner Series --An Honest Review

[Warning: I give an honest review that focuses not only on plot but on writing and character as well. As this is an opinion, you can take it as seriously as you want, but understand that my goal is to review, not shame or praise the author.]

Hey guys! Welcome back to spooktober! I hope you’ve been getting your spooks on because honestly I haven’t and I need someone to spook things up for me.

Moving on... today I will be reviewing an indie book series, called the Moonburner series by Claire Luana!

(A side note, I will only be reviewing the first three books in the series, as I am contemplating on getting the last one--I’ll explain more in depth about this in the future.)

Anyway, let’s get into it! Overall, I really loved this series. I feel like the first book was a little rough and needed probably another draft or two, but the rest of the series was pretty good. Overall, I gave this series a 6/10. Personally, I loved these books and they rated more towards 8/10 reads, but I’m not here to smother you with my opinions, I’m here to give an honest, in-depth review of the book. (Also, if you’re new here, I start reading with an expectation of AT LEAST a 5/10 read. So it wasn’t horrible but a lot of the mistakes in here really dragged the score down.)

So now you’re probably wondering, how can you love a book so much but rate it lower? Well, I’m about to give you a dozen reasons why.

Starting with the first book published in the series...

We have our main characters Kai, Quitsu, and Hiro. Kai and Quitsu are best friends and Quitsu is literally her spirit animal, whereas Kai and Hiro were first rivals but then became lovers. As for the plot, the plot revolves around two groups of people with the extraordinary power to draw upon moonlight or sunlight and burn it, as well as their wars. So already, you're pretty drawn in, right? I mean it’s a fabulous concept and I absolutely loved how they portrayed the powers that these characters have but there’s just one problem...

The writing lacked quite a bit. And by quite, I mean I ended up giving this book a 5/10.

There were so many little errors that kept popping up about this book like... inconsistencies in world-building, rushed relationships, (practically?) insta-love, lack of emotions/emotional connection, too many things going in such a short span, etc. Like this book, despite its loveable characters, amazing concepts, powers, animals, creatures, world, etc, needed a lot more work.

And I don’t say this to tear the author down, I say this because I know, if these issues were fixed, this book would be as memorable as the newly released and practically favorited book by every reader across the globe, The Poppy War.

So I’m going to take a very brief detour into the specifics of the books. If you want to read the book (which I encourage you to do so, it was still a fun and fast read.) then you might want to scroll down to the next book I’ll be reviewing in the series, if not, then read at your own peril.

[WARNING: SPOILERS]

I’m going to go through this as quickly and as thoroughly as I can.

Starting off with the inconsistencies in world-building, one thing that I noticed is the book would say, “Oh, these bats along with other creatures of the night serve us in our cause!” And then we would never see another creature of the night in the entire series. Or... “We are going to this mountain range to give you your final test to become a master moonburner!” But the mountains were never mentioned and didn’t even seem to exist until the characters decided to go there. These things are relatively easy fixes so I’m not quite sure why these were even a problem to begin with but *shrugs* oh well.

Moving onto rushed relationships... this book was too fast-paced for its own good. I mean, seriously, this book attempted to fit a 500-page (minimum) plot into 300 pages and because of that, this book was severely underwritten. Now there are two types of writers out there. There are under-writers and over-writers. I, myself, am an underwriter and have to go back in four, five, six, times to add back in the detail that I was missing in the first place. Then there are over-writers like Stephanie Meyer and Laini Taylor (on occasion), where they over-write their stories and their books probably need to get trimmed some pages. But this book needed those extra pages of relationship building because in some places, for example, the main character would meet another character and then five pages later the main character would practically die for this person.

The relationship or “instant-attraction” of Kai and Hiro is another good point. Hiro saves Kai’s life, Kai saves Hiro’s live, and then suddenly they’re like buddy-buddy. Like, you would figure that being mortal enemies and on the opposite side of the war, and having your own father murdered by your boyfriend’s men would cause you to be a little more cautious about who you want to get involved with but ok.

And even with some of the emotional connections, I just didn’t get it. I felt like the author could see it in their head, but I couldn’t see it in mine. The only people that I don’t feel like this rule applies to are Kai’s closest friends because we are given a decent amount of time to know them and to interact with them so I can at least understand that. But with things like... Kai’s spirit animal, or Kai’s crush, or Kai’s boyfriend, or Kai’s powers for moon burning and her affinity for it... I just didn’t get it. A lot of the emotion seemed to be cut out or forgotten and I don’t know why.

And finally, the last problem that I have with this book is the rape. I completely get this and understand that it’s a big part of what’s happening and why these people are so evil, but I do not feel like it was handled the way it should’ve been. With such a sensitive topic, I feel like more sensitivity is needed, and I only received about half the dose I needed on that.

And if you’ve read the book you might be saying, “but they promised to save them! They never forgot about them! Etc!” but that’s not what I’m talking about. What I’m talking about is the subtle “if we get caught we’ll be just like them”, half-heartedness going on. It rubbed me the wrong way and I felt like there wasn’t enough seriousness given to the subject for it to be adequately covered.

But again, these are all writing errors. The concepts are fabulous and I love them to bits but this book needed a lot more polishing than it got.

Continuing onto the Second book, this series took a direction I would’ve never seen. A majority of the plot in this book is all brand new. Unless you read the description I’m not sure you would know where this was going but needless to say that it still fell into some of the same writing flaws as the last book. The only difference between this and the last book was these errors were fewer or had less effect.

I’ll go into depth more in a moment but for an overall score, I gave this a 6.5/10. While my original decision was to leave it at a 6, I didn’t think it deserved that low of a score, but it did not earn a solid 7, hence the .5.

So as I mentioned, it fell into some of the same writing mistakes but it wasn’t as nearly as bad as the first book.

For one, the book actually slowed down a lot allowing for some real character development and relationships to form. (Although Kai and Hiro still needed some work, another pair showed up that saved the day.)

There was still a little of that troubled world-building where they would mention they were going to the docks and my brain was like: “lol this was a coastal city what?” Or, “these demons have been haunting us for centuries and they have been tearing us apart!” And there were no mentions of any sort of creatures BEFORE this book so I’m sitting there thinking...

Also, there was a lot of sexism that was kind of brought up and I was like wtf is this, where is this coming from? Because you only saw a hint of it in the previous book but now it’s full blown like...:

In the previous book, sunburners could only be male and moonburners could only be female and there was a mentioned distrust between the two sexes but in this book is like:

BAM IN YOUR FACE

And I’m not exactly sure where the need came from as to why the book had to have so many stereotypes blended into the story when the previous book didn’t really have that at all but...

As for the emotional connection, there were several good spots that allowed me to really see what the character was feeling which was nice. It wasn’t through the whole book and it seemed rather empty for the majority of the time, but there were good spots!

And again, another thing this book series keeps struggling with is too much plot, not enough pages. Seriously, in the first chapter, a main character nearly dies and I’m like WTF it’s the first chapter we’ve only been reading this for five minutes and they’re already on a death bed?! Or, in this case, they also had to go find artifacts and people to help save their world and I remember reading and going: “I’m 65% through the book and this quest is just BARELY starting???” (not that events weren’t happening it just seemed like the MAIN event didn’t happen until over halfway through the book.)

As for the rape stuff, that wasn’t really involved in this book. There were instances where I wished the world-building and the connections would be stronger cause I was sitting there thinking... “This girl isn’t the only victim... there are like 6 others... what happened to all the other victims? And what happened to the men?” Etc.

Overall, I don’t think that this part of the series had a plot line fully planned out beforehand, plus it needed another draft or two, but regardless of what I say and how I’m getting after every little thing, I STILL ENJOYED THIS BOOK. Don’t get me wrong, these were mistakes but they were bearable mistakes because I enjoyed the storyline and the world enough to ignore them.

The Moonburner series has 4 books, which would probably be divided up better into a prequel novella, a duology, and a stand-alone novel. I’ve read the duology and Burning Fates is the novella. (Personally, I’m not sure if I want to read the stand-alone novel right now. I might, but I also have a huge AF TBR that I’ve been putting off for weeks now...)

And honestly, out of the whole series that I’ve read, this is actually my favorite of them. (Oh, and I forgot. You can actually get this novella for free if you sign up for a newsletter from the author. So go check that out! Link is here: https://claireluana.com/) But the romance was the most real out of all of them, the characters had amazing character development despite it being a novella, and I wish this would’ve been a full-sized book because I can see there is much more to this story.

The story itself follows Kai’s parents and how they fell in love and it sets up really nicely for the first book in the series but needless to say... I WAS EMOTIONALLY DISTRAUGHT DURING THIS WHOLE TIME.

Because, if you were to read Moonburner first, you already know how a character dies and sitting there, growing slowly attached to this morally and a romantically upstanding person, knowing how they die, was literal torture.

This book was the right length, it had a very good balance of emotions and plot, it was a little Romeo and Juliet like but that’s 100% okay because it was well done, and overall, I gave this book a 8/10.

There was nothing that made me leaving screaming with joy, but it was just balanced enough and well written that I left having thoroughly enjoyed the book and I am very tempted to buy this as a physical copy because it left such a good impression on me.

Again, the series overall was a 6/10 for me, but it’s clear that the author has been improving in terms of writing, character development and plot. I don’t typically advertise on my blog because I find it obnoxious to find on other people’s, but I sincerely believe that this indie author is worth keeping an eye on. Currently, she is releasing a brand new series (and literally, she has amazing covers every single time, it’s kind of ridiculous.) called the Confectioners Guild. (Also, Claire please don’t sue me if I use your image I’m trying to support you because I want to see you do well T.T)

And I’m not going to lie, this sounds like the most interesting delectable thing yet. For a brief overview, a confectioner in a magical world is framed for murder when her cupcakes end up poisoning someone. I won’t say any more than that, but I said, it already sounds wonderfully delicious and you can find the link to her whole series right here: https://claireluana.com/confectioner-chronicles/

(Also, btw, I’m not sponsored, I just love her books. Shoot me for wanting to see a good indie author explode into mainstream media.)

Anyway, as usual, thank you for reading this review. If you liked it and want to see more of my honest reviews, feel free to give my little blog a follow and a like or a reblog. (Seriously tho, if you can do that my little 6 follower blog will adore you for the unconditional support.)

And as always...

I will see you next time!

A Bookish Blogger out!

#indie #indieauthor #new #new author #new release #new series #authors to watch #author #indiebooks #things i like #things to read #fantasy #superpowers #book review #book #review #Honest Review

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jujywrites · 7 years

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I have never done “friend fiction” in public before lol, but I couldn’t resist giving @portraitofa-girl this little plotbunny

*whispers* I had too much fun with this

“Remember, Takeo can be a bit… Well, he doesn’t…”

“It’s all right, Makoto-kun. You’ve told me enough about him that I think I know what to expect.”

“And Yamato will probably–”

“–bring sweets. Oh, I hope so!”

Arely knew why Suna was nervous. By all accounts, Takeo and Yamato had been hoping for him to find someone forever, and now they were finally going to meet her. She was a bit nervous too, but excitement seemed to be winning.

“Suna!” Takeo’s voice boomed over from the picnic table where he sat. Yamato stood next to him, smiling at full wattage toward the approaching couple. “Hello, I’m Yamato! I’m so happy to meet you,” she said.

“I’m happy to meet you both,” Arely said, with a short bow. “Makoto-kun’s told me a lot about both of you!”

Once everyone was seated, Yamato placed a large box at the center of the table. “I made rice balls for everyone! And…” She retrieved another slightly smaller box, hidden on the bench next to her. “I also brought sachertorte for dessert since it’s such an important occasion. Takeo-kun helped me decide what to bake.”

While Takeo and Yamato beamed at each other, Arely was torn between squealing over them and sneaking a bite of the cake. Instead she sat on her hands and smiled at Suna, who was watching the others with with a fond expression.

“All right, let’s eat!” Takeo proclaimed, opening the box of onigiri.

“These have salmon in them, and these are vegetable mix, and…” Yamato listed the kinds as each was removed from the box. “There are enough for everyone to try each kind!”

“These are wonderful, Yamato-san,” Arely exclaimed, having picked a rice ball at random. “I wish I could cook half as well as you.”

“O-Oh, thank you! But please, just Yamato,” the girl said with a giggle.

“Then just Arely is fine, too.”

“So,” Takeo said, after the lunch had progressed a bit, “Suna mentioned that you’ve taught him some Spanish.”

“Ah. Yes.” Arely, lips twitching, glanced at Suna, who remained impassive.

“I’m not very good with it,” he said. “Arely is much better with Japanese.”

“You flatter me!” Arely, laughing, gave Suna a gentle shove. “He still has to read me nearly everything, and I slip up when speaking…”

“Estoy bien. Pero por qué? Ah, perro!” Yamato blurted.

Somewhere nearby, birds were singing.

Suna broke the sudden silence after Yamato’s pronouncement with stifled laughter, and Arely followed suit, hiding her face against his arm.

“Sorry,” she managed, “it’s just that–”

“It was… rather unexpected,” Suna huffed out, putting his arm around Arely’s shoulders.

“But your accent is very good!” she squeaked.

It took several moments for the pair to compose themselves, leaving Yamato and Takeo to watch in slight bewilderment.

“I‘m so sorry,” Arely said finally. “I’m being so rude…!” She gave Suna’s side a hug and settled back to her side of the bench. “Makoto-kun’s laugh is very infectious.”

“Don’t be fooled. She’s as much to blame as I am,” Suna replied, smiling at her.

“It’s all right,” said Yamato, pink-faced. “I don’t mind. I’ll work harder! I want to learn more Spanish.”

“You know,” Takeo interjected, “the sarchatotte isn’t going to eat itself.”

Arely and Yamato looked at each other.

“S-sechartorte…?”

Three quarters of the table dissolved into laughter.

“It’s– it’s sachertorte, Takeo-kun,” Yamato said, tugging at his sleeve.

“Sachentontten!” Takeo said, causing Arely to nearly fall off the bench in glee, if it weren’t for Suna grabbing her arm.

“At any rate, I’m sure it’s delicious,” Takeo continued amiably, starting to open the box.

Arely had ended up with her face in her arms on the table, Suna patting her back gingerly while he attempted to compose himself.

“Arely, sa-char-torte,” Yamato said, passing over a slice on a paper plate and trying valiantly to keep a straight face.

She held up a hand in thanks.

Takeo had already started on his slice. “It is delicious! You must try it, Arely.”

“Okay…!” She popped up from the table and wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m ready to try the s-sachartorte.”

“Have some water first,” Suna said, handing her a bottle. “And deep breaths…”

Arely nodded vigorously, slugging down half the bottle before placing it down with a sigh. “Thank you,” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Then she picked up her fork and took her first bite of sachertorte.

Silence fell while she finished it.

She stared wide-eyed at Yamato, who looked eager and nervous.

“This… is… the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she half-shouted, slapping a hand on the table.

“Isn’t it?!” Takeo said, twice as loud. “Yamato’s the best baker in Japan!”

“That must be true! This is amazing!”

“Wait til you try her macarons!”

Yamato and Suna shared a smile and began to eat as well, while Arely and Takeo continued to sing her praises between bites of the cake.

In no time, the sachertorte was gone. Arely let out a sorrowful sigh.

“Don’t worry,” said Yamato. “I think I’ll be making a lot more desserts for you.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Thank you very much for making this lovely lunch.”

Suna nodded. “Thank you, Yamato.”

“Not at all, it was my– ah, Takeo-kun!” Yamato turned to Takeo abruptly. “When does the movie start? What time is it?!”

While Takeo looked for the tickets, Suna and Arely calmly cleared the table.

“2:00.”

“We have plenty of time, then,” Suna said.

“Yes, we can even walk to the theater,” said Arely.

And so the four set off. Yamato caught up to Arely, so Suna dropped back to walk with Takeo.

“I feel like we’re best friends already,” she said, beaming.

Arely smiled back. “So do I, Yamato.”

“Sunakawa-kun told us you met on the train. Maybe you could tell me more details sometime!”

“Sure. If you teach me a bit about baking?”

“Oh, yes! You can come to my home and we’ll bake–”

“And talk about our boyfriends–”

They stopped at the corner, giggling, waiting for the boys to catch up.

“Are you sharing secrets already?” Suna asked, putting a playful hand on top of Arely’s head.

“We’re conspiring against you,” she replied, deadpan.

“Ah, I see.”

“I’m going to teach her how to bake,” Yamato chirped.

Takeo grinned. “Twice the desserts? I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” Arely said. “Anyway, I doubt I’ll be able to rise to her level…”

The chatter continued on the way to the theater, where Arely promptly dragged Suna away to get popcorn as the other two found seats.

On the way back to the theater room, Suna grabbed her arm. “Hey.”

“Huh?” Arely looked over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Do you… I mean, are we…” He let go of her arm to scratch the back of his neck. “Are you having a good time?”

Arely couldn’t help but laugh. “Makoto-kun, of course I am! I’m having a wonderful day. Didn’t I tell you not to worry?”

He smiled gently. “You did. I just wanted to be sure.”

“Well, you can be sure.” She hugged him as best she could with popcorn in one arm. “Now come on. The movie will start any minute.”

“Sit next to me,” Yamato stage-whispered at her as they returned.

Suna passed his popcorn over the girls to Takeo. The lights dimmed just as they settled into their seats.

Arely looked around at everyone’s faces, turned toward the screen, and smiled to herself. As she waited for the movie to begin, she knew one thing.

This day was only the beginning of more wonderful days to come.

#JujYwrites #Ore Monogatari

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