#had to edit out the two idiots smoking a joint at the top of the fall in the last pic lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelic-holland · 4 years

Text

Take a Seat // haz x fem!reader

uhhh i am stoned as fuck right now and can’t get this out of my head so enjoy stoner haz and reader :)))))

warnings: smut!!!! weed and smoking weed so !!! uh yeah i will edit this when im not high

word count: 1.5k

“Let’s get this party started!” Tom shouts, settling on the couch next to Tuwaine and Harry.

“Party?” You laugh, “there’s only six of us,” you survey the room, Sam and his girlfriend cuddling up on the loveseat.

“You know what they say,” Harrison says, stumbling up behind you with his bong in hand.

“What do they say?” You raise an eyebrow at him as he settles with his back against the cushion of the seat under Tom who has his feet tucked up underneath him.

“Three's a crowd, but baby I like to party,” Harrison grabs your wrist, tugging you down, so much so that you fall face first into his lap.

You flush at his actions, knowing he’s only doing it because he already got stoned, not because he feels the same way about you. You’ve had this epic crush on Harrison, your best friend, for a while. You’ve never gotten the courage to tell him so you’ve been stuck keeping your feelings hidden in fear that he wouldn’t feel the same way.

“Whoops, sorry love,” Harrison chuckles, helping you sit back up next to him.

“, s’alright,” you gulp, brushing your hair back down.

Harrison begins to pass the bong around, starting with Tom.

You rest your head on Harrison’s shoulder, humming along to the music playing from somebody’s speaker. Tom started telling a story about Harrison on set and your ears perked up, paying attention to each little detail Tom spilled and the embarrassed huffing and sighs from Haz.

Eventually, the bong comes around to you and you nervously take it, having only smoked once before, a few hits from a joint.

“Do y’need my help?” Harrison asks, watching you flick the lighter on and off.

“No,” you shake your head, pressing your lips to the top of the bong and lighting the bowl.

You suck much too hard and pull the bowl out too late, the smoke filling your lungs quickly.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you fight back a cough, blindly passing the bong to Harrison.

“You okay?” Harrison asks, his voice actually full of concern.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, and at first you are until you try to suck in another breath, resulting in a coughing fit.

“It’s okay, c’mere,” Harrison says, quickly handing the bong and lighter to Tom. You clutch your chest as you cough, trying to calm down while feeling awfully embarrassed.

“Fine,” you cough, letting out a surprised squeak when Harrison pulls you onto his lap, patting your back to help you breathe better.

“Baby girl,” Harrison damn near coos, “don’t worry ‘bout trying to act all badass, lemme help you next time,” he whispers in your ear, slowly rubbing your back.

You end up still on Harrison’s lap as they pass the bong around, by the time it comes back round to you, Harrison moves one hand from your hip to grab it, setting it in your two hands.

“Whaddya need?” He asks, brushing your hair to your other shoulder.

“Need your help,” you sigh, pressing your lips to the top of the bong.

“Uh-uh,” Harrison’s lips find the shell of your ear, brushing against the skin there, “ask nicely,” he scolds, squeezing your hip.

“Please,” you whisper a little breathless from the demanding tone of Harrison’s voice.

“That’s it baby,” he praises you, “now suck.”

You do as he says, watching as one of his hands rest lightly on the back of your neck, holding you down as he lights the bowl.

Before you could get overwhelmed, he grips your neck and pulls you back, setting the bowl back in its place.

“See? Wasn’t so hard to ask for help now, was it?” He asks, brushing his thumb down the side of your neck.

You gulp and shake your head, squirming slightly on Harrison’s lap as he gives himself a hit.

“Sit still,” Harrison whispers lowly as he passes the bong back to Tom.

“Can’t, I uhm, I,” you feel the wet patch on your panties get bigger as you try to control the onslaught of your need hits you, “I’m a little sleepy, I think I’ll head in,” you wriggle out of his arms, running off down the hall to Harrison’s room.

You’ve slept in the same bed with him countless times throughout childhood and even on nights when you slept over Tom and his place, like now.

You quickly shut the door behind you, wanting to change and cool down instead of embarrass yourself on top of your best friend’s lap again.

“Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” You hear Harrison pause at the door.

“Nothing,” you squeak, your skirt halfway down your legs by now.

“Can I come in?” Harrison asks as you scramble to take care of your panties now.

“No!” You shout, eyes bugging out of your head as you realize you should’ve brought your clothes to change in the bathroom.

“Is everything okay?” He asks wearily, afraid you might be hurt and too stubborn to do anything.

“ ‘m fine,” you insist, grabbing another pair of panties and tugging them up your legs, tossing on your sleep shorts as well.

“Y/N,” Harrison mumbles, you hear his head dully hit the other side of the door.

“Come in!” You say, swallowing down your nerves as you crawl into his bed, settling on top of the plush covers. The bong hit is starting to affect you now, your limbs feeling heavier and your actions bolder.

“Just was worried when you ran out of there so quickly,” Harrison opens the door to you pulling your shirt over your head, or at least trying to, you got stuck with the shirt right above your breasts, tangled in your arms.

“Y/N, what’re ya doing?” Harrison chuckles, closing the door and walking over to his bed, taking a seat next to you as you wriggle around.

“Help me?” you squeak, trying to turn to him.

“I’ll always help ya, baby,” Harrison rasps, pulling you onto his lap again.

You cuddle into his chest, face still obscured by your shirt.

“Baby girl,” Harrison pulls you back, helping you tug the shirt off your body.

“Why’dya call me that?” You whine, pouting slightly as you rest your chest against Harrison’s.

“Because, you’re younger than me, and you’re an innocent little thing,” he teases, squeezing your sides.

“Not innocent enough to not do this,” you press your lips to Harrison’s, immediately jumping back when you feel him not reciprocating.

“I’m, fuck, I’m an idiot, I’m so stu-,” you’re cut off by Harrison kissing you, pushing you back against the bed and straddling your hips.

“You’re not stupid, god, been wanting to do that a while,” he reveals, kissing you again.

You moan into the kiss, his hand fitting in the space between your bodies and catching his thumb against the swell of your clit.

“Please,” you gasp, his other hand gently cupping your jaw and neck, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip.

He pushes his thumb into your mouth or you suck on it, but either way, it’s in your mouth now.

He stares down in wonder as he feels your panties grow wet under his fingers, gently stroking you over them. He can feel himself grow harder in his boxers but he can only focus on your pleasure. When your hand moves down to tug at his sweatpants, he stops you.

“Want to take care of you, then we can help me out,” Harrison promises, rubbing his thumb around your clit.

You whine against the thumb in your mouth, his hand tightening against your skin.

“Fuck, that’s it, can feel you pulsin’ against me,” Harrison grunts, your hips raising to grind harder against him.

“Haz,” your mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut as you tip over the edge, white hot pleasure making you twitch and shake underneath him,

“So beautiful baby girl,” Harrison praises, gently moving his hand away from your center.

“You’re hard,” you notice, your hand moving to cup his length while he kisses you again, letting you wrap your legs around his waist.

“I am, all for you,” Harrison smirks, slowly grinding down against you.

“Me?” You whimper, “you’re hard for me?”

“Have been for a while baby girl, just was scared you didn’t want me like that.”

“Like this?” You gasp, the head of his cock pressing against your clit. Even though it’s behind layers of clothes, you still feel him, throbbing against you.

“Exactly like this, maybe we can be more naked when we’re sober, but you look so pretty when you come, want to make you come forever,” Harrison squeezes his eyes shut, grinding down against you faster.

“Forever,” you cry out, feeling yourself approach another orgasm solely at the promise of a future with him.

“That’s right, baby girl, as long as you’ll have me,” Harrison groans, burying his head in your neck, his dark blond curls brushing your chin.

“Fuck,” you cry out, coming with a whine of his name.

Your noises send Harrison over the edge, coming in his boxers with a muffled grunt of your name, “y/n….”

You drop your legs back on the bed, catching your breath as Harrison sits back, brushing some hair from your face, “I mean that, what I said,” Harrison murmurs, brushing his thumb over your lip.

You kiss it sweetly, smiling back up at him, “me too.”

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #weed tw #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield smut

323 notes · View notes

ashis2gay4u · 4 years

Text

I Am Not A Robot (In One Post!!)

Nico di Angelo stared out his window, the skull head ashtray in his lap overflowing with ashes, cigarette butts, and burnt out joints, yet instead of ashing out the open window, he continued to ash into the tray.

He was sat on the ledge of the bay window, it being big enough to be a bed for an average height person. He gave a huff as he watched the boys playing soccer on the lawn across the street, smiling and laughing.

He can't remember the last time he laughed. Hell, he doesn't even remember what it sounds like.

Don't even get him started on his smile, because he's sure he'd rip his face in half if he even tried.

He put the ashtray aside, pulling his knees to his chest. He nestled his chin between them, continuing to watch.

One of those boys turned to look at him, and Nico froze as the others turned to stare him down.

"Hey!" one kid shouted, his black hair untamed, like he had just rolled out of bed, "Wanna join? Might be more fun than watching!"

Nico shook his head, "No, I'm good-"

Another boy, a Latino, shorter than the first, spoke up next, "But why not? We're one player short of a team, anyways!"

Nico stood up and leaned out the window, staring at the five boys there. "No, I'm good, thank you very much."

The blonde boy shrugged, "He doesn't want to play, guys."

"Awe, man!" the Latino said.

The Chinese boy shook his head and spoke up, barely loud enough for Nico to hear, "If he doesn't want to play, he doesn't have to... Plus, he kinda scares me."

At that, Nico slammed his window shut, glaring at them all. He flipped them off, and went to sit on his bed.

Curled up on his purple comforter, he fell into what he hopes will be a dreamless sleep.

He woke up the next day in a cold sweat. Everything was fine, up until he fell into that dark hole.

He hated that hole, with all it's horrid hallucinations and ghastly smells and horrifying noises.

He quickly threw the blanket away- how did it get on him and not below him?-, and stood up, going to take a quick shower.

He stared at his reflection afterwards, glaring into his own eyes.

He proceeded to brush his teeth, his eyes never leaving the stare into his own soul.

He had mastered this technique. Why? It was a distraction.

He quickly got dressed, before heading to his window, opening them up and sitting on the ledge, grabbing his lighter, smokes, and ashtray from beside him.

Just as he had taken the first inhale, a knock sounded at his door, followed by a sniffing sound.

"Dammit, Nico! I told you not to smoke in the house!" came the voice of his step-mother, Persephone.

He hated her, she was always switching between nice and mean with him.

"Fuck off, you bitch, I don't have time for you."

She slammed open the door, glaring at him. "You dare? I should call your father right now and-"

"And what? He won't fuckin' pick up. He never picks up. Not since Mamma and Bianca died, right?" he said coolly, smirking as she tensed up.

"Don't you dare mention her-"

"Suck it up, he cheated on you with her. Twice. And then once more with Hazel's mom. Yet you hate me the most. How so? Why not hate the man who cheated on you, because you aren't enough?"

Persephone merely walked over and smacked his ashtray out of his hand, his smokes and lighter flying out the window with it.

A loud crash rang out as the crystal skull broke.

"Don't. Smoke. In. My. House. You. Insolent. Brat!"

Nico pushed her away, grabbed his satchel from where it was perched against the windowsill, and nodded, "Fine. Next time, I'll smoke in your room, and leave all the ashes in your makeup and burn holes through all your favorite dresses. Cunt."

She was about to smack him, he could tell, so he did what he always did when she attacked him.

He jumped out the window, landing in her garden and rolling to his feet. He smirked up at her, "I think I crushed those pretty tulips that just bloomed! Sorry!"

She started screaming at him, but he was already in the garage, starting up his motorcycle. He took off down the street, heading towards his favorite place in the world.

The graveyard.

When he got there, he parked his bike and tossed his helmet to the side, sitting on his haunches in front of the gravestones before him.

"Hey, Mamma, Bianca. It's been a while."

He sighed, moving to sit with his legs crossed.

"I know I shouldn't break her rules, and I know I shouldn't fucking snap at her and piss her off, but she does everything she can to hurt me. I hate it."

He could feel the tears starting to fall, hitting his hands which were clasped so tightly in his lap he swore he was about to snap his own fingers in half.

"I had the nightmare again, Mamma, about-" He stopped himself, choking back a sob.

"I miss you, Mamma, Bianca. Sometimes I... I just want to be emotionless, like a robot."

"Hey, Nico... I heard from Persephone what had happened, I'm sorry she broke your ashtray, I know how much it meant to you," Hazel said softly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Whatthefuckever, she can do what she wants..." Nico mumbled.

"You don't always have to be on top, you know," she replied, gently taking his hand in hers.

"I feel like I have to-"

"Because you can't show weakness, right? It's okay to be vulnerable, you don't have to act like the tough guy all the time."

Nico said nothing, merely stared out the window where his new plastic ashtray sat.

"You've been smoking a lot, lately."

"I know."

"You're just a baby, Nico. You shouldn't smoke so much..."

"I'm seventeen, Hazel."

"I know, but your lungs aren't fully developed yet."

"If I wanted advice, I'd go to a counselor or a medical professional," he snapped.

"...Better to be hated, than loved for what you're not," she said, before standing up.

He snatched his hand away, and she left, closing the door behind her softly.

It's been a year since he started watching the boys.

He sat perched on his window ledge as per usual, a new (although metal) skull ashtray sat in his lap. Persephone was gone, so she couldn't yell at him.

He stared out the open window, and noticed the black-haired boy and his friends were out front again, playing some demented form of tag.

The Latino looked up at him, and waved.

Despite his better judgment, he waved back.

He was just being polite, is all.

"Yo!" the blonde boy yelled, "Wanna play with us now?"

"What the fuck are you idiots even playing, anyways?" Nico questioned.

"TV Tag!" the black-haired boy said, smiling goofily.

Nico's heart stopped at that look on his face.

No, no. Not today. Begone, thoughts.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

The Latino stepped forwards, grinning wildly. Nico's heart did a flip.

"It's when you yell out a TV show name, and crouch down. The person can't idle by you, or tag you until you stand up. You can only crouch for ten seconds, though, but it's fair play to yell out another right afterwards!"

"That doesn't sound very fair at all, that should be illegal."

The blonde boy laughed, loud and booming. It made Nico's cheeks heat up.

Fuck, they're all hot.

"I like this kid!" he said.

The black-haired boy grinned, "Frank isn't here today, so if you want, you can fill in for him!"

Nico thought for a second, before putting out his smoke. He stood up, and promptly closed his window, disappearing from their sights.

"Awe, man! Percy, you scared him away!"

"I'm sorry, Jason, I didn't mean to! Besides, Leo probably did it, not me!"

"Hey! Jason, are you going to let him talk to me like that-"

"Gods, it's like watching a buncha old married couples. Maybe I should just go."

They all stopped talking, and turned to face Nico, who stood a few feet away, a smoke hanging from his lips.

"Smoking kills," the blonde boy- Jason, Nico recalled-, said.

"Exactly."

Jason made a choking noise at the blunt tone, and the Latino- Leo, the black-haired boy had called him- laughed.

"Cat got your tongue really good, eh, Superman?"

"Shut up, you stupid Christmas Elf."

"Jason, how could you?" he said, faking a sob. He turned to the black-haired boy, "Percy, are you going to let him talk to me like this?"

Percy rolled his eyes, "No, Repair Boy. Jason, play nice. Leo, stop being dumb."

Leo gave a gasp, falling against Jason. Jason caught him, rolling his eyes in turn.

Percy turned to look at Nico, "Hey, name's-"

"Percy," Nico said, smirking. "The blonde is Jason, and the tiny shit is Leo. I pay attention, you know."

Leo gave a cry, "You've embarrassed me in front of the hot goth! how could you!"

Jason dropped him, "Well, it does give Percy an advantage."

Nico stared at the three, "What?"

"Why do you think we've been spending so much time outside since we first noticed you?" Percy said, chuckling. "Me and Leo thought you were cute. Everybody's been trying to help both of us win a chance, well, except for Frank, who's apparently dating your-"

"Oh fuck no. That's Frank Zhang? Holy shit, that kid is dead-"

"Wait! He's really nice, we swear-" Jason said.

"No, he borrowed my Myth-O-Magic cards a few months ago from Hazel and spilled pop on them. Hazel's kept him away from my wrath for this long, but no more. Dead, he will be."

They all stared at him for a few moments, before collapsing to the grass in fits of laughter.

"That's why you want to murder him?" Leo said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"We... We thought-"

"That it was cause of what he said last year," Percy managed to get the whole sentence out, before giggling uncontrollably once more.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Nico deadpanned.

"Yep, indeed."

"Wanna play that game?" he asked.

Leo's face lit up, "Si, indeed!"

They all stood up, exchanged looks, and then yelled in almost perfect unison, "NOT IT!" before taking off in different directions.

Nico soon learned physical activity was not meant to be done in skinny jeans.

"Hey, Mamma, Bianca."

It's been two months since he's last visited them. He'd been so busy running around with Leo, Jason, Percy, Grover (Percy's best friend), and Frank (who turned out to be really cool, even replaced his deck with a limited edition one), and had completely forgotten his promise to visit them every day.

The first time since he was ten, nonetheless. He's eighteen now.

"I made some... Ah, friends, I guess," he said, not sure how he felt about having friends.

The word tasted strange in his mouth, he doesn't think he's ever had any friends, not like the five friends he had made.

"...I kinda like them..."

"Awe, we like you too!" Leo Valdez said, appearing at his shoulder.

Nico almost had a heart attack, "What-? Why-"

Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, and Frank Zhang stood next to Leo, each with a bouquet of flowers. Nico stared at them all.

"My Mama died when I was seven, she was buried just over there," Leo said, smiling sadly, "Next to my twin brother."

"My mom died when I was about eleven, I think, I was abandoned outside this military facility- nobody claimed me-, so I didn't find out until I ran into my sister out on a mission with Leo, who I had picked up along the way with my girlfriend, Piper."

"And you?" he asked, turning to Percy.

"Here for emotional support," he said, brandishing two bouquets of red roses.

Nico stared at them all silently, "So-"

"Maria is a nice name," Leo said, sitting down next to where Nico sat hunched in front of the graves, "And if she had even a bit of your face on her, I bet she was gorgeous, too..."

Percy sat on the other side of him, placing a bouquet in front of the graves, "I'm sure Jason's mom won't mind. Bianca... That name sounds familiar. Was she an archer...?"

Nico nodded solemnly, "One of the best. At such a young age, she was already on the waiting list for the Olympics."

Percy went pale, "I knew her. I met her and you at a casino years ago."

"You- You were the boy with the blonde? That boy you left with was-"

"Grover, yeah. Annabeth is my other best friend, but nobody can compare to the G-Man."

Jason stood off to the side, and silently slunk off to his mother's grave.

Leo sighed, "Guess we've all met each other before, then. I remember her, too, she and Hazel used to play hide and seek with me and my brother Sammy Jr. all the time, up until he died."

"Sammy... Jr...? The kid she had a crush on?"

"Yeah, I had a crush on her, too, until I met my ex Calypso. Boy, that went to Hell-"

"-when he found out she had tried to seduce me while I was on-and-off dating Annabeth," Percy finished.

"Woah... We've got some fucked up connections, don't we?" Nico said, smirking.

"Yeah, we do," Percy replied, leaning back against the grass.

"Where'd Jason go?" Leo asked, looking around.

"Over here!" came the voice of the blonde.

"Oh, he's paying respects. Come on, Leo, let's go do that, too."

"...I'll come with, I can talk to them later," Nico said, standing up with the other two boys.

"Are you sure? You seemed to be having a decent one-sided conversation with the dead, Neeks," Leo said, chuckling silently.

"Yeah, yeah, Valdez. Let's go."

"Happy birthday, Baby Bat Wings!" Leo cried, waving a party streamer around.

Percy laughed and swung his arm around his shoulders, Leo following suit.

Soon enough, Nico had six boys hanging off of him, Jason, Frank, Grover, and Will Solace- who was the latest addition to their little group- soon joining in on the group hug.

Nico can't remember when he smiled so hard, but he'd gladly accept his face splitting in half if this was the reason why.

He blushed a deep crimson red as his two crushes, Leo and Percy, kissed each of his cheeks respectively.

"You've been hanging with the unloved kids a lot," Persephone accused, glaring at her step-son. "You've never really trusted or even liked them before, what happened?"

"He's just magnetic, he picks up all the loose pins," Hazel says, smiling sweetly at the wickedly bi-polar step-mother.

Persephone sniffed, "Yes, but he really shouldn't. I looked them all up, they all have criminal records or bad school reputations!"

"I'm nineteen now, Persephone. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

She got a wicked gleam in her eye at that, "Yes, you're right. So, you're an adult, now... Get the fuck out of my house.”

Nico stared at her, before turning to Hazel, "Can she do that?" he questioned, looking like he had just witnessed the most fucked up thing in history.

She shrugged, "'Dunno."

"Call Dad, then, see what he says!"

"He won't pick up the phone, and you know it," Persephone replied. "You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of my house, before I call the cops for thievery, breaking into my house, and vandalism!"

"Excuse the fuck you-"

She pulled out her phone, dialing 911. "Try me, Nico. Where's your mother to save you from my wrath now? I should have kicked you out as soon as you turned sixteen."

Nico glared, and rushed up the stairs, calling Leo to come get him. He grabbed all his clothes, pillows, and blankets and threw them out the window, packing his more fragile stuff and personal items into his multiple backpacks, his satchel, and his one suitcase, and dragged them all downstairs.

He spat in her face before leaving, Leo and Percy (who had offered his much bigger six-seater as a substitute for Leo's pick-up), helping him load up all his stuff.

They drove off, and Nico felt truly alive for once.

"Don't be so pathetic, Nico, just sing! Come on!"

"Shut up, Jackson, I will not-"

"You called?" Leo sang, prancing into the room, dressed entirely in Percy's clothes. He wore a black towel wrapped around his head.

Percy rolled his eyes, "Oh gods, not this again."

"Oh gods, not this again," Leo said in a mock imitation of Percy, "Look, I'm Perseus Jackson! All tough, all sexy! Dumb skater boy!"

Nico laughed, "He was a skater boy, she said seeya later boy-" he stopped himself, realizing he had been singing the lyrics.

The two boys stared at him, "Wow..."

"Such beauty," Leo said, smiling.

"Amazing..." Percy said, in awe.

Nico blushed, "Guys, come on... I'm not that good-"

"Better than Percy, he sounds like a dying whale!"

"You wound me, you shit."

"Suck it, Aquaman."

"When, where, how ha-"

Nico let out a squeak, "P-Percy!"

"Jealous, much?" the sea-green eyed boy said, smirking.

"I'm gonna be sick," Leo said, fake gagging.

"Both of you are dumb, absolutely not," Nico said, noticing how Leo's face lit up and Percy's face fell.

Oh boy, was he as smitten with them as they were with him.

Another nightmare, and Nico woke up screaming, thrashing at his blankets as he tried to sit up.

The sounds of footsteps came echoing down the hall, and Leo burst in, wearing nothing but a white tank top covered in grease stains and a pair of red Deadpool boxers, Percy appearing behind him wearing Superman pajama pants.

"What's wrong?" Leo asked, concerned.

Percy looked anxious, "Nightmares, buddy?"

Nico couldn't help it when he started crying, reaching out to them like a pathetic baby.

They both swooped in and hugged him, Percy settled behind him and Leo nestled up against Nico's chest, both mumbling soft, soothing words and holding him tight, but not too tightly as to trigger a flashback of any sorts.

"Mamma... Bianca... And I-"

"Shh, take your time..." Percy whispered, rubbing his cheek against Nico's hair.

"Yeah, Neeks, don't rush yourself."

"I felt so... Vulnerable... In that cave. We got stuck down there for a week on a field trip to Greece, there was this gas..."

Percy tightened his grip around Nico's waist, and Leo burrowed deeper against Nico's stomach, his cheek pressed against it.

Nico took a deep breath, before continuing.

"We were trapped for five days. Mamma... Got sick first. The gas created hallucinations, and... Her heart couldn't take the horrors. She started screaming about a lightning storm, shoved us out of the way, and then... She tripped and fell, landing face first on those ground spike things..."

Percy looked horrified, but Nico didn't see, so he continued on.

"Bianca got sick next. The smells really got to her. She thought she was in a metal scrap yard, and got... The ceiling collapsed on top of her," he said shakily, "I was left alone for the next three days, until they found me. I was malnourished and traumatized, and Dad... He left. Business trip after business trip.

"Last time he called me was when I was eleven... He said he wished I had died instead of Bianca, she wouldn't... She wouldn't have been as much of a failure as I am," Nico said, his whole body shaking as sobs wracked his body, occasionally breaking free.

He felt vulnerable, so very vulnerable.

"The noises were what fucked me up the most, mixed with the smells and hallucinations of monsters and demons and... And my dead family..."

He broke down entirely, turning slightly to latch onto Percy. Leo sat up and clung to them both in turn, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," Leo mumbled, "I know what it's like to watch people you love die... I watched Mama and Sammy die in a fire... I started it..."

"I watched my mom get strangled to near-death as a kid... Stayed by her side in the hospital for a few days before I went off with Grover and Annabeth. Ran away to find the sick fucker who attacked her, this guy named Minotaur, he called himself..."

"We're all fucked up," Nico gasped, laughing silently.

"And vulnerable," Leo added.

"But that's good," Percy said, smiling softly through his own tears, "That means we aren't robots."

"Can you teach me how to feel?" Nico asked softly, "Can you turn my power back on...?"

"We'll try our fuckin' best."

After a year of living with the two, Nico said something that made the two boys stop and stare.

"I like you both. Fuck, I'm in love with both of you."

"What-" Leo questioned, ears going bright red.

"How-" Percy questioned, dropping his lucky pen Riptide, which he's had for years but never really used.

"I. Love. Both. Of. You," Nico said once again, even more bluntly than the first. "And I don't know how, I just know I do."

The two boys shared a look, before they both broke into huge smiles.

"Fuck. Yes," Leo said.

"So... How the fuck do we smash? Do we take turns or-"

"Percy!" Nico scolded, face flushing.

"Why don't we find out tonight?" Leo asked, smirking. "Would be a great way to celebrate our three-way."

"Wait, so-"

"Yes, Ghost King, I'd happily share you with Repair Boy," Percy said grinning.

"As long as I can be a bottom, I hate topping," Leo said.

Nico laughed, and instantly crashed onto the couch between them, moving the resumes they had been filling out.

The two snuggled up against him, and Nico smiled.

I am not a robot.

{La Fin}

~Ashton Bende

#perleico #percico #valdangelo #nico di angelo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #leo/nico/percy

55 notes · View notes

aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

Text

Summer’s Child- Chapter 6-Angel of the Morning Pt. 2

Morning Loves! Here is the second half of the last chapter. I hope it’s as good to you as it is to Harry....

Thanks to the tripod, @dirtystyles and @bleedinglove4h for being the best pocket friends a writer could bombard with ideas and all caps texts. And to @emulateharry for her 👀. I edited a while ago, so all mistakes belong to me!

Jillian was fussing with the radio in the truck, the static it put out matched the static in his head.

He was sure he would have focused more on the hamster spinning on its wheel in his brain, but her face caught his attention. It was blank, but the corners of her lips were turned down a touch.

"Alright?" He slid in, and redirected his attention from the gears when she slid right up next to him and slipped her arm between his body and bicep. Her head found his shoulder, the notch she'd claimed at 9.

"No."

Well, he knew that, but he was hoping drawing out why wouldn't be as much like pulling teeth as getting her to divulge things that hurt her.

"What happened?" God, this question could cover at least the last 10 years of her life. He meant tonight.

"If I tell you, promise you will never breathe a word of it again. I don't want to think about it." He knew this was why she didn't even want to say things out loud ever. He didn't think her method worked though, it always came out, her pain, it's truth.

"Did he," he swallowed. This was the question he had been avoiding asking for years, with her dad and her mom's boyfriends and now Will. "Did he hu— did something happen?"

"No," she shook her head. "I hurt him."

"What?"

Her self satisfied tone matched the grin he caught in the red shine of the one stop light in town. Should he be worried?

"Jillian!" Harry pulled over and stopped. He needed to look at her face. What did that mean? "Hurt him how? Why?"

She sighed. "Everything was fine, and he was his normal self at the dance. Like, more interested in his friends yet complimentary, but only on my hair and body and...anyway. But it was like our normal dates and he was sweet, like a candy coating, ya know." He wasn't sure he did, but he nodded. "But then we got to the hotel, and, well, I wanted to hang out, people were already in that first hotel room. They were smoking." They'd talked about that. She liked getting high. "And had a keg." Drunk less so, she had good reason for caution there. Though he never said that, just encouraged her avoidance.

"Okay. Trina and I were in there. I didn't see you."

"Yeah that's cuz he insisted we go to our room first. It took us a while because everybody stopped us to slap him skin." She rolled her big eyes and shook her head. He loved her annoyed face, but annoyed seemed mild for the build up. "I caught a hit or two," She stamped her shoes, like she did when her mom left grade school events early. She usually got on with it then. "We made it to the room, him maneuvering me like I was his truck. He gave a little push in. I barely got to ask if we were changing for the party. I had that little bag of jeans and a sweater, before he started kissing me. Which was nice. He's a good kisser." She shrugged and Harry tried to be as nonchalant as her. "And we've been fooling around a little, but he usually, it was like forceful," She shook her blonde head to cover her face. "anyway, he didn't ask anything and was yanking at the sleeves of my dress I was afraid it was gonna tear. But, he had me backed against the door, luckily."

"Why luckily?"

"It's harder to knee somebody in the jewels if they're on top of you." She smiled like she'd stolen some cream and Harry blinked.

"What happened then?"

"He whined a lot, doubled over like an omelet and called me a tease and said I was trash, and lucky he gave me the time of day." Another eye roll. She was surprisingly relaxed considering it sounded like the kissing was more of an attack to Harry. "And then he started on all the things I hoped he never thought about me, but I know other people think." She hugged him closer. "That he knew I lied about where I lived and that if I didn't sleep with him, he was gonna dump me. But when he started in on you I kicked him again and started out the door to him yelling about us being over."

"And?" Harry knew he was bug eyed, like when he wore coke bottle lenses as a toddler, "what did he say about me." He shook he's head. "Never mind that's not important." He knew she wouldn't tell him anyway. "What happen then."

"He grabbed my foot and told me he loved me, but couldn't wait anymore and he'd have to find 'it' elsewhere. I told him that wasn't a threat, because I was done and kicked him off my leg. I think I caught his face a little." Harry wasn't sure if he should be impressed or scared she was smiling about all this "i'm sure I looked messy, but I needed to get out of there like now. But when I came out, Steve cheered and rushed in to give Will a high five. He must have helped him up. But Will never came out. I heard Steve telling everybody that Will had finally got a piece from my hiding spot all night. So, school's gonna be hell for the next month too."

"That's awful." He held her hand for a moment and waited for her to continue. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"I tried." He cringed. "But when I came to find you, you and Trina looked like you were having fun. So I found somebody with a joint and a quiet place to wait." She shrugged and he felt like he'd eaten ground glass, thinking about her alone. She seemed ok, but Jillian always seemed ok.

"We could have left whenever you wanted."

"I didn't want to ruin your prom night."

"I wouldn't have had a prom night if not for you. And besides, you couldn't ruin my night, any night. I'd rather spend time with you than the twats from our soon to be alma mater."

"What's a twat?" She giggled.

"Well, it's actually," he shook his head. He never thought about what it meant, or having to explain it. "It's an English word for idiot." He pulled out into non existent traffic.

"That's not true, you're doing that thing with your eye you do when you lie."

"What thing with my eye?"

"Your right eye twitches a tiny bit."

He didn't know that. "Oh, well I'm not lying."

"I am asking the next Englishmen I see ya know."

"Not my da!" He responded quickly.

"See! I knew it didn't mean idiot."

A change of subject was needed. "Home?"

She shook her head like it was the needle on the Richter scale in that educational short about earthquakes. He'd shown her that when he'd been trying to talk her out of California. The change of her mood was as shocking as a tremor.

Now was the time to tell her.

"So—"

"Harry, do you like Trina?"

"What?"

"Did you like going with Trina? You gonna take her out again." He really hadn't even thought about it, honestly.

"She was nice. We're going bowling next week. But only if you want to come."

"That's not really what I asked."

"No, I, I don't like Trina, not like, like that." The truck came to a stop like their conversation. He didn't know what to say and she was in her head, again.

His house was dark. Harry was surprised. Really. He thought for sure his da would wait up. He did suppose it was 3 AM.

They snuck through the house, like how they used to try to get to and from the cut crystal candy bowl when they were young. He held her hand, and when he would stop, she would crash into his back and muffle her laughter in between his shoulder blades.

He'd quit the jacket. The ruffled shirt she loved was thin enough to feel the heat and moisture of her joy. He wished there was more reasons to stop or a longer distance to his room. He loved how she could laugh after a night when she could very well be crying.

"I'm surprised." His filter turned off as soon as they got to his room."

"About what?" She looked up at him. Jillian was still really close, she took a couple steps to stay in his space.

"That you aren't more upset. About Will and your, well your mom."

Her eyes hardened for a split second. Like she was measuring the distance to a finish line. They cleared them, and she looked at him in a way he couldn't quantify. It was the fraternal twin of her best friend eyes, maybe. "I'm with you. It's hard to feel down when I'm around you. You're my favorite person Harry." She smiled her honest smile then and the next words stole his breath before he thought too much about them. "I love you."

That was the second time she'd said that and not meant what he wanted. He closed his eyes, because he couldn't see the face he adored say the thing he wanted to hear most and not mean it how he needed.

They popped open when he felt her mouth press to his. Her bottom lip slipped just so between his and the pressure she exerted was very different from their mistletoe kiss. When she sucked a little, he heard himself groan.

"Harry," she whispered, all breath and bone. "Will you kiss me back? Don't you want to kiss me?" Just the words felt like a kiss, if he was honest. At least the way he thought kisses felt. He wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to do.

But he said yes, meant yes, so he said yes. His voice was a rumble, his truck over the railroad tracks. His lips moving gave her all the opportunity to teach him what a kiss could feel like. All the slips and slides and sucks. When she slid her tongue over his bottom lip, his mouth fell open. Then, it slid inside, and if he wasn't sure he groaned earlier, he did now. Felt it in his stomach then reverb in his throat. Jillian moaned and pressed her self to him top to tail. He could feel all sweet, soft, strong parts of her, so he almost missed her hands undoing his top button. The one at his throat. Then her mouth was exploring the white under the frills.

"Jillian, what are you doing?"

"I'm making love to you." She said like she was offering him cup of tea. "Don't you want me to?"

The presence she pressed against in his pants said a very solid yes, but he was confused. She'd just kicked her boyfriend in the balls for the same suggestion hours before. "Yeah, obviously." She giggled and he was weaker for that sound than the fact she'd pulled his shirt off his shoulders and went for his pants. "But, why?" It seemed like a major question, and stupid as it may be to slow this down, he needed to know.

"Why?" She asked him like it was his question that came out of left field, not her advance. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. She was the color pink.

"Because I love you, and you're the only person I love who loves me back." He wished he could argue that, but all evidence was to the contrary. "Because you've never tried one thing with me that I didn't ask for." She had his pants off his hips. Her hand went to his dick between them, stroked over him like he'd done himself the night before thinking of her in the dress she wore. "And because I want to, want you."

He groaned then and soiled his boxers like nobody had ever touched him. Because nobody ever had. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." he was reeling, his mind as confused but engaged as when they taught chemical equations last year. "How embarrassing." He hid his head in her shoulder before he thought better of it and tried to turn away.

Jillian caught his shoulders. She laughed, but not at him. "No, it's ok. Now you can make love to me a little." She pressed a breathy kiss to his lips and licked into his mouth. He returned her motions and brought his tongue into play. She gasped a little into it when he tried to follow her lead, to play. "That feels good Harry. Will you kiss my neck?" He tried to do the things she'd done to him. He thought he might be a quick study at this too when the feline purrs she let out woke his dick up again. He was moving down to the boundary her dress created when she turned around abruptly.

"Oh, sorry. Did I do something wrong?" He thought he'd figured out how to do something right.

"No, no, it's good. Just, I love that. You just need to take off my dress. So you can, um, my nipples."

"Fuck." He said and laid his head on her shoulders while she giggled.

"Not yet, in a little while. Go on Harry. Take it off. Touch my neck like you did in the shop." She leaned her head over and he kissed the pretty pink tinged flesh there until it was red and undid her zipper.

He'd known she was beautiful, but the chrysalis shedding of the dress falling from her body, revealing all of her to him, transformed him too. Into a man.

He'd thought he was one, wanted the responsibilities of one, to take care of this woman, but he wasn't one, until she turned to him and the moonlight turned her skin silver and her nipples pewter. He felt like a golden band.

Out of curiousity, he ran a finger around the pink tip and pulled it back abruptly when she jolted and gasped. "Sorry!"

"Oh no, do it again. Please." Her head lolled back and he used one hand to draw the shrinking circle around her nipple again. He used the other to catch her neck where it was weakening and pulled her to him. He needed her mouth against him again. His hand found the overflowing flesh beyond her nipple and they both shivered. He caressed her until he was holding her up.

"Harry, sit on the bed." He'd sit on a cliff if she asked. He knew she didn't know everything, but she certainly seemed to have more hands on knowledge than him. Though he knew the mechanics, his dad had given him books, plural, at 10. He'd wanked to a few images at 12, then Jillian after long nights at 13, this was a wet dream come true. But still, "how do you know," he trailed off, "all this stuff?"

She sat astride him and smiled when she felt him hard against her again. "See, no problems," And they were kissing again and she was rubbing against him and he had her tits in his hands again, and oh god.

He'd said that out loud.

"Here." She climbed up him and rested her hands on his shoulders so her breast were at mouth level. He looked up after he'd gotten dizzy looking at her perfection so he wouldn't fall to the floor. "I, I don't know a lot. But I know you." She rubbed the soft yielding flesh over his face. His mouth watered. "And I know what I do. You can maybe do more. Kiss them, maybe suck too." She suggested and then the soft flesh ripened against his tongue, sweet like summer strawberries and he was sucking to try to get the sugar.

"Oh Harry!" And she was riding him and he was afraid he was gonna come again. He clutched her hips and stopped her.

"I can't." He shook his head. What the fuck? He'd never, god, this was. And she said she loved him. He could come thinking about it. He'd better not think about it. "It's too good."

"Ok, ok. Will you touch me?"

"I am." He didn't really follow.

"No, will you touch me.....there." She held his shoulders and leaned back.

"I don't, I don't know how."

"I'll tell you." She leaned back and drew his hand down the soft lines of her belly to her crux. She slide two of his fingers down to a well of wetness, her opening, wetting his fingers with her dew, and then up to the hard knot and inch or so above. "Rub there, like this." She moved his fingers in circles until he didn't need help anymore and he watched her face while her mouth fell open and she panted. She was squirming hard and he had to wrap an arm around her and clutch her other hip for fear she would fall. "Ah, ah, ah, Harry!" She shook out and he felt wetness trickle over his knuckles.

"Wow." His chest moved heavily up and down.

"Yeah, Wow." She slid his fingers through her wetness again and pressed one long digit into her opening. He slid it in and the thought of it around his dick. "Jilly!"

Uh oh- she hated that. Except, her moan said she didn't. She moved up and down his finger until his hand was sodden, asked for "two!" Breathlessly after a bit. He added the third without being told.

He was bewitched, bothered, and beholden when she got off his lap and his fingers. He would have followed her anywhere, to Gomorrah and beyond.

"Cmon Harry. She sat on the edge of the mattress, the little twin bed they'd shared many times, and pulled his boxers off. He stepped out of them and she wiped him off before throwing them somewhere behind him. She reclined on the bed and turned the hand she held up, so their fingers slotted together.

"I heard it's easier this way." Heard where? He would have asked, but the moonlight showed him parts of her he'd only just touched and Stole his tongue. She spread her thighs. There seemed to be nowhere else for him to go but between them.

He'd thought she felt hot through his boxers. He was burning up pressed against her wetness now. God, he might actually catch on fire.

"Um?" He asked and she shrugged before reaching down between them and pointing his tip down where his fingers had lately been. He pushed, but only felt resistance and none of the wetness from before.

He got a hand around himself and looked between them. "Fuck." He said again. He had no idea where his manners were. Maybe manners didn't belong in the bedroom. The problem seemed to be the fleshy lips around where he needed to be. "Um can you, can you open it up?"

"Yeah, I think so." She reached down and he said "oh my god" when he saw the dark pink within. Who knew that's how pretty She could be? He pressed forward. This time, there was resistance, but the warmth enveloped his tip and then gave over the ridge making a little popping sound. "Oh my god!" His vocabulary had also left him. He cried out and stopped.

Jillian squirmed beneath him, and the tips of her breast rubbed his chest, and could you close your eyes to sensation? "No, no, don't stop." She wrapped her legs around him and pushed with her heels until he came to a resting place.

"Fuck, holy fuck Jilly."

She squirmed again, smiled.

"You ok? Hurt?"

"No, not, not really, it's just a lot of pressure." She winced a bit. "Can you move."

He knew he could, but he wasn't sure what would happen if he did. "You're sure?" Though it seemed late to ask, already all the way interlocked with her. "I love you, Jillian." He swore.

"Me too, it shouldn't be anybody but you. I can only be me with you." She pushed on his hips with her heels a bit and moved her hips away. And he was sure this was everything. It couldn't be anybody but her. Ever.

He pulled back and thrust in, and then was overcome by the feeling and kept pushing and pulling until it was coming again.

"Oh god Jilly!" The feeling, god the feeling. Nothing had ever felt better in his life than this.

"Harry!" She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter, legs too. He knew he was being louder than he ought to be, but he couldn't stop. Then his vision whited out, way worse than the blur without his glasses. When he shuddered to a stop he simply collapsed on her, into her.

He lay there until he realized how heavy he must be and felt damp on his neck where her face was buried. He was so sweaty. Poor Jilly.

"Sorry, I'm so big." He lay on his side next to her and curled an arm around her midriff.

"Well, I don't have much to compare you to, but I'd say you're alright." And she made that sweet sound that was home to him.

He blushed, which was strange to happen now. His hand was moving lazily over her soft tummy skin and he was so happy. They were together. "Love you Jilly." He murmured as he drifted off without his own permission.

He vaguely remembered her kissing his forehead and her hair a halo in blue morning light.

"What time's it?" He mumbled.

"Early, still. I need the bathroom. Go back to sleep."

"Ok." He rolled into his pillow. The late night and dreams coming true made his eyes and body heavy.

He woke up to blazing sun, and thought he should be warm. But even his tiny bed was cold without her presence.

She wasn't making tea in the kitchen, or at the Dairy Barn that evening.

Sandra was pissed she'd missed her shift.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, or something. Maybe he'd said he loved her too many times. He'd not thought to keep a balance sheet. Did he say it more than her?

When he still hadn't seen her by Monday morning at school, and heard all the talk in gym about her going all the way with Will, he was worried. She known the rumor mill would be turning her to dust. Maybe she was just avoiding it. But they were so close to the end. A couple weeks was all. He was so worried.

For her, not just for the grief he'd feel as he got his heart's desire to lose it so soon. He finally did what had to be done and left school at lunch. He'd never ditched, but it didn't matter now.

He drove out to her house, and saw that semi familiar car again.

Dick answered the door.

"Um, is Jillian home?"

The man screwed up his grimy brow, and even at this time he reeked of beer, from last night or the hours since breakfast. "Nah, she took off. Took her mom's stash and suitcase. Little bitch." He scratched his rounded belly. "We figured she's with you."

"No, um no sir, she's not with me." Where was she?

"Too bad, must be that rich kid, Will then. Ain't that just like a woman?" His smile was sharp around the edges, and wide to his canine teeth.

The comment was meant to cut him. He was already aching too much to notice.

Harry knew she wasn't with Will.

He might have nodded, or mumbled on his way back to the truck.

It wasn't until he got home he let himself really think it.

Jillian was gone.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #summer’s child #angel of the morning pt 2 #chapter 6 #editted a week ago- hopefully still good!!

65 notes · View notes

tangyyyy · 5 years

Text

Fluffy ELU one shot (a little bit of smut at the end... ;))

As usual, please, be aware that english isn't my first language. I hope there aren't too many mistakes in this story, I did my best at least ! I hope you'll enjoy this little story anyway... Comments are loooved ! Oh and feel free to come and talk to me... :)

Under the sheets

A light rain was falling on the streets of Paris since morning. Lucas, safe in the apartment he still shared with Mika, Lisa and Manon, was enjoying one of those rare days when he was alone at home. Anyone who once lived with roommates will understand this small but oh-so-precious pleasure. Do what you want, as you want, when you want. The Playstation controller in his hands, he was in the middle of a game when he heard a knock on the door. No doubt it was Eliott, knowing that they could be alone for a day, Lucas had invited him to join him.

« Come in! » Lucas shouted, still quite absorbed in the game. Eliott stayed outside. Why didn't he come in? Lucas knew that by raising even a little his voice, anyone in the lobby of the building, could hear. Frowning, Lucas paused the game, pulled himself out of the blanket he had placed on his laps and walked to the front door.

As he approached, Eliott, on the other side of the door, started to pound on it, yelling at Lucas to hurry up. He seemed eager to come in. Lucas rushed himself. The door was indeed locked. He turned the key in the lock and scarcely had it opened the door that Eliott rushed inside the apartment and closed behind him in a hurry.

« What... what the hell? » The young man asked, anxious.

« Your neighbours out there... They have a girl, She's freaking me out as fuck. »

Lucas had a hard time holding back a mocking laugh.

« Clémence? The little blonde? She scares you?!

-It's her eyes... I don't trust them.

-But...

-The girl is strange no question.

-She’s 10, how can she scare you?

-She is, that's all. Oh. » He bent over and put a soft kiss on Lucas's lips. « Hello, by the way. » Then he started walking toward the living room. Lucas, on his heel, was still thinking. « Still... » He laughed. « All this for a kid...

-She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips... » Eliott answered, taking a seat on the ageless couch. Surprised of this crazy answer, Lucas remained speechless for a few seconds.

« You weirdo... » He finally cracked, collapsing on the couch before snuggling up against him.

« I’m not weird. I am limited edition. »

Lucas smiled. Indeed, there weren't two like him. In this dimension at least. Would he be tired, someday, of listening to his crazy stories, his crazy ideas? It was obvious that Eliott didn't really think that the little neighbour was a bondage fan. He said that simply to make him laugh, he, Lucas, always so serious, down-to-earth. Eliott was aware of this, he had the imagination and the necessary "craziness" that Lucas lacked. He had the power to bring forth the most beautiful smile on his lips. So indeed, he used and abused of that power.

« Well... What do you want to do? » Lucas asked after a long silence.

« I don’t know, what do you want to do ? »

It had been a full week since Lucas knew they would have the apartment for both of them so, of course, he had imagined every possible places where they could make love. The kitchen countertop exceeded by far all other options. But for now, he had another idea in mind...

« Do you know what I liked to do when I was a kid, alone at home? -Tell me. » Eliott answered, gazing his laughing eyes into Lucas's. « You'll think it's stupid. -Tell me ! -Blanket forts. » He said shyly, lowering his eyes. Eliott smiled. « Alright ! » He cheered, getting up suddenly. « What are we starting with? » He asked, slapping his own thighs like a strange warrior.

« Don't you want to change out of your clothes first? » If Lucas wore his jogging and tee-shirt since morning, the perfect outfit for a good chill-out sunday, Eliott was still wearing his tight jeans and wet hoodie. « Bébé... » He started to say, using this nickname to annoy Lucas as he thought it was ridiculous. « I don't fit in your clothes.

« Not mine, you idiot, I'm sure Mika's would fit perfectly... » Lucas replied, getting up before walking toward his roommate's bedroom. He came out a minute later, a jogging and a white tee-shirt in his arms. « Here, try this and put your sweatshirt on the radiator. » He gave the clothes to Eliott. The latter, smiling, grabbed his chin with infinite sweetness, made him raise his face and kissed him tenderly. « Thank you. » Eliott sighed before taking off his hoodie and jeans. Lucas let his eyes lingered on his boyfriend's body. He never would have thought he could feel so strongly attracted by a body of a boy or even a girl. Even after two months of relationship, he couldn't help but feel this sweet pain in his belly caused by the view of Eliott's skin. Once changed, the young man turned to Lucas. « It's perfect. You're right it's better like that.

-However not a word to Mika, he'd kill me on the spot. -No problem, bébé. -Putain, stop with that! -Sorry but it's funny. -No funny... » Lucas pouted. « Well! What do we do now? » Eliott asked again, too happy to have such an impact on the boy who haunted all his own nights. « First of all, we have to make room... Push the table. »

Eliott ridded the coffee table of every objects which were on it in order to move it against one of the walls. Lucas pushed the heavy couch next to the dining table to create a space big enough for the fort.

« Damn, you’re strong for a little thing... » Eliott told with a mocking look.

« I keep my cards hidden Eliott, I keep my cards hidden... »

Once the furniture was pushed to the sides, Lucas went to explore every corner of the apartment and brought back all the sheets and blankets he could find.

« Step aside and watch a pro... »

Without waiting, Eliott grabbed a white sheet, tied it to an old woolen blanket, and tried to hook one of the corners to a small bookcase. The fort was taking shape but Lucas wasn't moving, watching his boyfriend with skeptical eyes. As Eliott prepared to lay a heavy blanket on top of the fort, Lucas spoke again. « It'll break everything if you put that on it.

-You’re questioning my methods ?

-I’m not questioning, I’m saying it’s stupid. »

Leaving Eliott to his frustration, Lucas walked to the speaker on the coffee table, plugged in his phone and started one of his favourite songs, Comfortably numb by Pink Floyd.

« Fuck... »

Lucas turned around and saw the roof of the fort collapsed on itself in front of Eliott, useless and dissapointed, passing his hand through his hair. The two young men came back to work even more, this time, showing an incredible cooperation. A few minutes later, the result surpassed all Lucas's hopes.

Their blanket fort was large and colored. The floor was covered by a thick mattress on which were disperced many covers of different materials and four pillows of different sizes. This was perfect.

The first to come in the fort was Eliott, crawling, he disappeared under the covers. Lucas turned off the living room's main light, turned on a little bedside lamp on the bookcase and followed him closely. Under the covers, the boy found Eliott lying comfortably on the mattress, all the pillows on his side. Lucas lay on his back, close to him. He still lacked one or two pillows to feel totally comfy though...

« Pillows are over-rated... » He sighed.

In response, Eliott threw one of the pillows on his face. Lucas replied, lashing his stomach with the same pillow. Bursting into laughter, Eliott stepped over Lucas, sat on his stomach and immobilised him without any difficulty, his wrists in his hands above his head. Lucas frowned.

« Admit it, I'm stronger than you. »

Not knowing what to say, Lucas remained silent and sulked.

« Hate me all you want. You can’t deny we spend wonderful time together.

-I don't hate you. » Suddenly Lucas recovered all his seriousness. « I could never hate you. »

Smiling and visibly touched by Lucas' answer, Eliott released him, handed him two of the pillows and stretched out. The two young men lay on their backs side by side.

« Wait, stay right there, I’ve got a song I want to listen now. » The oldest of the two boys crawled to the exit of their fort. For a few short minutes, Lucas heard him coming and going in the living room. The first notes of a song started to escape from the speaker. Eliott reappeared at the entrance to the fort. He had gotten rid of his clothes, wearing only his black boxer. He held a joint in his left hand. He lay on his back, lit the joint and took a long, deep puff. Unable to help himself, Lucas shifted and dropped his head on Eliott's torso.

Le spleen n'est plus à la mode, c'est pas compliqué d'être heureux

A song with a deep meaning for Eliott... Lucas's lips twisted into a melancholy smile. He understood why Eliott had chosen that song. He decided to remain silent. He closed his eyes and got as close as possible to the young man's body.

« You’re very warm… It’s nice. » He whispered.

« And you smell good. » Eliott answered. « I wish we could stay here forever. » He added in a bittersweet voice.

Lucas sighed, he took the joint and took a first puff. The air was now saturated with herbaceous smoke, the rain was hitting the window, punctuating the few silences conceded by the music. After a long time, it was Lucas' turn to straighten up, with sweet gestures, he sat down on Eliott's belly and took all his courage in his hands to gaze into his light blue eyes.

« I love you. » He whispered, as if he was out of breath. Eliott, still looking into his eyes, said nothing, took the joint and took a puff. « I'm »... Lucas bended over and kissed Eliott's lips. « ...completely... » A kiss on his jaw. « ...and utterly... » A new one in the neck. « ...in love... » On the collarbone « With you » On the chest.

Shivering and unable to hold a hoarse groan of pleasure, Eliott put his hands on Lucas's face, brought him close to him and put his lips on his.

Le spleen n'est plus à la mode, c'est pas compliqué d'être heureux

Not thinking about words strong enough to respond to those of Lucas, Eliott kissed him, completely surrendered to him. The meeting of their two mouths became warm, deep and passionate.

Tout, il faudrait tout oublier

On joue, mais là, j'ai trop joué

Feeling only one desire, to become one with Lucas, Eliott clung to him like to a life ring. Tasting his lips and his breath, forgetting to breathe, he truely wanted to give back these wonderful love words to Lucas, but for that, it would have been necessary to move away from his lips, impossible.

Ce bonheur, si je le veux, je l'aurai

Eliott would have liked to love him with his words, words which he couldn't find so he gave him his whole soul through his lips. Hands in his hair, arched back to better fit the shape of his body, he forgot everything. Lucas was the only thing to exist, his eyes, his lips, his body.

N'existe pas sans son contraire, une jeunesse pleine de sentiments

Tout, il faudrait tout oublier

Opening his eyes after a long long time, Eliott put his forehead against Lucas's, breathless, flushed cheeks. The two young men gazed into each other's eyes. In the History, the blue colour had never been considered as a warm color, it was a very big mistake, Eliott thought, there was nothing warmer and more comforting than Lucas's blue eyes.

On joue, mais là, j'ai trop joué

Ce bonheur, si je le veux, je l'aurai

Lucas, with a wide gesture, took his tee-shirt off before resting his forehead against Eliott's one. « Kiss me again. » He whispered. Too happy to be permitted to do what he was craving for, Eliott push his boyfriend under his body and rested his wet lips against his. This time, his hands didn't stay in his hair, they became more adventurous, stroking his cheek, his neck, his chest, discovering his belly.

Le spleen n'est plus à la mode, c'est pas compliqué d'être heureux

Ferme les yeux, oublie que tu es toujours seul

Finally, Eliott's hand slipped under the fabric of Lucas's pants, caressed the groin area and made his way between his legs. Then, while he began to stroke him from the base of his penis to its head, he felt some hands slip into his own boxer. Eliott gazed into Lucas's eyes. « Together and we're waiting for each other... » Lucas whispered in a sigh, like a child dictating the rules of a new game.

C'est simple, sois juste heureux, si tu l'voulais, tu le s'rais

Ce bonheur, si je le veux, je l'aurai

In a childish setting, under colourful blankets and swirls of smoke, the two teenagers loved each other to the rhythm of the music. Then, once the desire was consumed, their bodies rested and their spirits soothed, Eliott and Lucas fell asleep, huddled together.

Le spleen n'est plus à la mode, c'est pas compliqué d'être heureux

It wasn't very late when Manon came back home so she was surprised not to hear a single noise. Had Lucas left the apartment without locking the door? Weird... Arrived in the living room, she discovered the pile of blankets a.k.a the blankets fort of his roomate and his boyfriend. On tiptoe, she approached, leaned over and ran her head through the white sheet. The two teenagers slept, cuddling in underwear. Manon bit his lip. God, they were beautiful... Reluctantly, she turned away from this peaceful scene. On the way to her room, she picked up a jogging and a tee-shirt which she recognized belonging to Mika and put them in his room. They could thank her later...

note : Eliott’s song is Tout oublier by Angèle feat. Roméo Elvis (I’m sorry I can’t put any link on here...)

#Skam France #fanfiction #ELU #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #lucas x eliott #fluff #smut #love story #oh god no #I'm not used to write so fluffy things #one shot #long one shot #not too long i Hope #french writing in english #what a joke

114 notes · View notes

badwolf-in-the-impala · 5 years

Text

~Where the Crow Flies~

Chapter 1 - Hometown Girl

Image Credit: Myself. Pictures aren’t mine but editing/collage is.

Pairings: Juice Ortiz x OFC ((face claim - Emily Rudd))

Inspired by: God Love Her by Toby Keith

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Sexual content, violence, ((to be determinded))

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

“Yeah she's a rebel child And a preacher's daughter She was baptized in dirty water Her mama cried the first time They caught her with me They knew they couldn't stop her

She holds tight to me and the Bible On the back seat of my motorcycle Left her daddy standin' there Preachin' to the choir You see, God love her Oh me and God love her”

Laredo, Texas.

It was a long way from their sleepy little hometown of Charming, CA. It was a rare occurrence that they would travel so far, but when a friend and fellow MC connection of Jax’s contacted him about a Patch Over, they were all for making the trip.

The ride was long and exhausting, taking them a total of three days when it only should have taken them one. No thanks to the two separate bike breakdowns, a wrong turn -- courtesy of Tig -- and a couple of flat tires. Needless to say by the time they arrived, they were road worn, dirty, and in desperate need of stiff drinks and a good night's sleep.

It was around 7:30pm when they finally made their destination, pulling into the nearest Bar and venturing inside for a drink, pleased to discover that the joint also served food. Three days of living off of gas station jerky, beer, and whatever else they could scrounge up to eat on the go had left them famished. So it went without saying that they were started to get more than a little disgruntled when the waitress working the floor seemed to be avoiding them entirely.

The mousy looking blonde ducking into the back almost the second they took their seats. A few minutes passing before the doors swung open and another woman emerged and disappeared for a moment behind the bar. She was average height, petite yet curvaceous and her delicate features made her appear younger than she likely was.

Juice’s jaw nearly hit the floor as she approached their table with a tray of full of shots. She was clad in a pair of ripped dark wash jeans that hugged her in all the right places, cowboy boots, and a black, cropped, tank top patterned with white and neon green skulls; her cleavage peeking out the top just ever so slightly.

Several elegant tattoos adorned her arms and left wrist, while another one on her right hip lie hidden by her jeans, part of it just visible above the waistband. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and her smile radiant. The kind that reaches the eyes and makes them shine more brightly, her own a brilliant shade of blue with just the smallest hints of green; vibrant as she placed the tray on the table in front of them.

“My apologies for the wait, Gentlemen.” She apologized sweetly as she passed out the round of drinks. “These are on the house. Can I offer y’all somethin’ else to drink; maybe some menus?” She inquired with a drawl that was as smooth as the whiskey in the shot glasses before them.

“Menus would be fantastic.” Jax replied with a smile. “And a round’a whatever you got on Tap would be fine.”

“You got it, Darlin’.” She winked.

“Christ’ Juicey, quit yer gawkin’ and remove yer jaw from the table.” Chibs mused with a small smirk as he caught the younger man ogling the young waitress, eyes following her as she sauntered away to grab the requested items, her hips swaying in time with the thud of her boots across the hardwood floor.

It was hypnotizing; clearly.

“What?” Juice’s attention snapped back to reality at the sound of his name, the table erupting in a fit of boisterous laughter at his confused expression, the men settling back down as she returned to set some menus, ice cold mugs, and a large pitcher of beer on the table.

“You boys jus’ holler when you’re ready to order, alright?” She winked with a grin, hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans as she turned on the heel of her boot, starting back towards the bar to replace the blonde who had been working until they came in. Pausing when Jax called out after her, the men watching as she arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him, turning back to see what he needed.

“What’s your name, Sweetheart?” He asked with that signature flirtatious smile of his that made most girls swoon and go mad with desire. But she simply smiled, ignoring the suggestive nature of the question being asked, her eyes settling on Juice as she replied casually.

“Missy.”

A few hours had passed, the guys dispersing to mingle around the bar after demolishing the three pizzas they ordered. Juice remaining at the booth in which they had all originally been sitting, fidgeting with the empty beer mug in front of him out of boredom. Normally he might have been up mingling with the rest of the guys, ‘New town, new pussy.’ as Tig would say; but he just wasn’t feeling it tonight. So instead he sat, quietly watching their Waitress, Missy, as she tended up at the bar.

It struck him how easy going she was, how easily she conversed with the locals and other customers as she worked, like she had know them for years. Hell, she even managed to put up with Tig’s wildly inappropriate, drunken, advances and still keep a level head. It was absolutely mind blowing to watch.

“You want another one, Sweetie?” She drawled softly, pulling him from his thoughts. A sweet smile hanging from her perfect, full, red lips as she approached his table, finally able to break away from the bar as things had started to die down for the night. “Um, yeah, thank you!” He returned her smile, passing the empty mug off to her and accepting the already opened bottle she held in her hand.

“Not in the mood to mingle?” She inquired with a curious look, turning her attention to the rest of his group that were scattered throughout the bar playing pool and whatnot, before returning it back to him, watching as he shrugged lightly.

“Not really.” He chuckled nervously. “It was kind of a long trip.”

“Patch Over business?” She chuckled softly at the confused look on his face before gesturing to his Kutte.

“Oh...right.” He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling like the world biggest idiot as he glanced up at her, reassured by the warm smile she gave him in return.

“Sorry, I should’ve clarified.” She replied, gesturing to the seat opposite him with a questioning glance before taking a seat as he nodded eagerly. “The Road Reapers are really the only crew in these parts, save for a few rival gangs; but Joey and his crew are good people. He’s been talking ‘bout the Patch Over for a while now...so I assumed when I saw your Kutte’s that you guys must be it.”

“Makes sense.” He chuckled before taking a swig of his beer.

“Missy.” She introduced herself personally to him as she extended her hand across the table, earning herself a ridiculously goofy, yet adorable, smile as he accepted the gesture; some of his nervousness fading as he replied. “Juice.” “For real?” She snorted a small laugh, her own smile growing, her hand still grasping his as she waited for a response. “I-- It’s a nickname.” He shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck again as he withdrew his hand finally, taking another sip of his beer. “I like it.” She smiled warmly. “You have a real name to, though, I’m assuming?”

“Juan.” He nodded with sheepish grin. “Is Missy short for anythin’?”

“Maybe.” She quirked a smile at him as she pushed herself out of her seat, standing to pull a pack of smokes from her pocket. “But that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juice watched as she crossed the room, disappearing behind the bar where she grabbed a leather jacket and shrugged it on, waving at the other waitress who had come out of hiding and instructed her to watch the bar for a bit, her eyes meeting his again as she paused beside his table.

“You’re more than welcome to join.” She gestured toward the back entrance, shaking the pack of smokes in her right hand, grinning as he grabbed his drink and climbed out of the booth to follow her outside.

Silence hung between them as she sparked up the cigarette that hung from her lips, offering Juice her lighter as he searched for his own only to come up empty handed, tucking it back into the pocket of her jeans as she leaned against the brick wall behind them; exhaling a trail of smoke into the night air.

“So…” Juice cleared his throat, earning her attention almost instantly as she fixed her blue eyes on him intently, his nerves suddenly returning as he looked away quickly and took a long drag from his own cigarette. Trying to pretend he didn’t notice as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, shift and turn towards him as she waited for him to continue. Juice turning to give her a curious look after a minute or so when she started to chuckle softly.

“Sorry, it’s just-- I’ve never met a shy biker before.” She apologized before taking another drag from her cigarette, tilting her head to the side as she looked up him through dark lashes. “Y’all are usually so outgoing.”

“Yeah…” Juice chuckled a little as he stared back at her. “This is a little new, for me.”

“How so?” Missy asked with a curious look.

“I dunno. I guess I’m just not use to having a woman be so forward...normally it’s the other way around most of the time.” He replied with a shrug, watching the grin that tugged at the corners of Missy’s lips as she nodded at him.

“I can see that.” Her blue eyes gleamed with amusement as she studied him closely, shifting to step closer as the breeze picked up a little. “I’m little forward sometimes, I apologize.”

Juice gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. “No, it’s cool. Little change of pace never killed anyone.” He said. Missy smirked and nodded as she huffed out another puff of smoke. Missy eyed him as he took a drag and glanced out over the town, giving a small smile at all the lights and neon signs that knocked him back to the 90′s a little.

“Have you ever traveled out this far before?” Missy asked, taking another drag as Juice turned to her. He turned down the corners of his mouth as he gave his head a little shake.

“Not really. I mean, I’m from Queens, but never really made it down South.” He said. Missy nodded and glanced down, kicking a random piece of broken glass away as she asked,

“Is it hard being away from your old lady?”

The way Missy glanced up at him, a sweet, yet coy smile perched on her lips, blinking out from under her long lashes, Juice couldn’t hold back a similar sly smirk as he shifted a little closer and said, “Not really...Since I don’t have an old lady, yet.”

Missy couldn’t stop her smirk from spreading as she dropped her cigarette, stamping it out with the toe of her boot.

“Oh? No one who can handle the life?” She teased.

“Nah...not yet at least.” Juice shrugged.

“Guess those Cali girls must be pretty soft then, huh.” Missy chuckled sarcastically as she leaned in a little closer. “But then again, us Texas women are different breed.”

She watched as his brown eyes darted from her own gaze down to her lips and back, starting to lean in himself when the back door to bar flew open with a loud BANG as it slammed against the brick wall. A small chuckle left Missy’s lips as Juice startled backwards a little bit at the noise, turning to watch as the rest of his group filtered out back.

“There you are, we’ve been lookin’ all over for ya man.” Jax spoke up with a grin as he swaggered over towards the pair, hands shoved in his pockets.

“That’s my fault.” Missy grinned, giving a small shrug as she shoved her own hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“No worries, Sweetheart.” Jax replied. “We should probably get goin’ though since we still need to find a place to crash. There any good cheap motels nearby?”

Missy snorted at the question, raising an eyebrow at the blonde who in turn, gave her a questioning look. “Cheap and Motel are two words that do not belong in the same sentence.” She replied.

“You got a better idea?” Jax chuckled lightly, watching as Missy glanced up to the second story of the small brick building that housed the bar they stood outside of.

“Got a couple vacant rooms upstairs.” She replied casually, watching as Jax glanced around to the rest of his group for their approval. Earning a collection of nods and shrugs before turning his attention back to Missy.

“That’d be awesome...if it isn’t any trouble?” He replied.

“None at all.” Missy smiled kindly as she made for the door.

“How much?” Jax asked as they stepped back inside, surprised when Missy waved the comment off as she stepped behind the bar to fish out a set of keys.

“No charge.” She shook her head in reply. “The Son’s are always welcome here.” The comment earned her a plethora of confused looks from the group of men that stood before her, watching as she rolled her eyes and turned, reaching up on her tiptoes to grab an old picture that hung above the register.

“My real Dad, he fought in Nam with some of the Original 9. Was part of the Charter up in Tacoma for a lot of years until he went Nomad. Bounced around quite a bit after that till my Mom managed to get him to settle back here in Texas.” She gestured around the room they stood in as she laid the picture on the bar.

“He built this place from the ground up...”

“No fuckin’ way?” Jax stated as he picked up the picture off the bar to study it, recognizing it immediately as one he’d seen in some of JT’s old things.

“He had one golden rule back then, that the Son’s were always welcome in this establishment, no matter what. I made sure that stayed in place after he passed and I was old enough to take over...my Mom wanted nothing to do with it after she left him and remarried my Preacher step-daddy.”

“You’re a Preacher’s daughter?” Tig’s voice inquired, his interest suddenly peaked as he appeared at the front on the bar. Missy simply rolled her eyes and ignored his pervy antics as she brushed the comment aside.

“And after she died a couple years back, the Bar fell to me, as instructed, per my Father's will.” She gave a small sigh as she took the photo of her old man back from Jax and returned it to its rightful place above the bar. “So as I said before, y’all are welcome, free of charge for however long you need.”

“Well, we really appreciate that.” Jax stated with a kind expression.

“Don’t mention it.” Missy smiled as she stepped out from around the bar, reaching up to grab the rope that hung from a small bell that hung from a wooden pillar, giving it one sharp ring to catch everyone's attention. “LAST CALL!”

“C’mon, I’ll show you boys upstairs.”

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

A/N: AHHHHH...I did another thing you guys XD I really need to stop coming up with new ideas lol SHOUT TO JACKSONROTH for helping me on this <3

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @cole-winchester @stacie-marie-bloom @journeyrose @penny4yourthot

52 notes · View notes

inimene-skates · 6 years

Text

Kodu [DenEst fanfiction]

Summary: Tallinn, the 1990s. The first foreigners come to Estonia that has recently freed itself from the Soviet terrors. Mathias Kohler becomes one of those daring people while seeking inspiration for his book. Thrilled to find out more about Estonian punk culture, he stumbles upon one of its particularly interesting subjects named Eduard. What follows next is a story about trust and freedom, revolution and philosophy, love and culture. A story about the land where they found kodu – a home.

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094802

Notes: After my rather prolonged hiatus I finally came up with something decent. I believe this world needs more DenEst since this rarepair is absolutely stunning. All the events in the fic are a mere fruit of my imagination; however, it is based on the events that really took place in the 1990s: the times when the USSR dissolved and Estonia regained its independence. At the time, the punk culture in Estonia was particularly popular.

I have previously posted this fic in its original language (Russian) here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/6731059

The main inspiration of the work comes from a song of the famous Estonian singer Ott Lepland "Kodu", you can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbyOx-1AGNg

There’s a lot of Estonian slang used in this story so please refer to the notes for translations. ___________________ Ma ei oska vene keelt — I don't speak Russian Tõmba nahhui, idikas! — fuck off you idiot Ime lahti! — same as previous Oota — wait Putsi — Estonians would use this word to curse if/when something goes wrong Vend — dude Lilla (also: pede) — fag Keppi mind — fuck me Mida sa tegid? — what have you done? Mul on nii kahju — I am very sorry

Also, I tried to illustrate punk Eduard for you so take a look for a better reading experience! Enjoy!

_____________________________________

Mathias first saw him by Kadriorg. He was the one who the Dane caught his sight of from all six members of that frenziedly formed circle. Mathias could not be sure exactly why: perhaps, it was his hair with its part being tousled up and dyed unbelievably intense, almost acidic, pink, and making him look head up taller than the rest of the gang, even though, in reality, he appeared a rather short person. Perhaps, it was all a cocky look he gave the Dane with his mesmerizing eyes of cornflower color boldly fetched out by what seemed to be poorly blended blackish eye pencil. Or, perhaps, the reason could be the way he stood up front deeply inhaling the smoke of his self-made joint as Mathias approached him.

One way or another, Mathias knew for sure it is this fascinating man who would become the main focus of his next improvised interview.

“Tõmba nahhui, idikas!” One of the fellows standing straight behind the subject of Mathias’ attention and whose forehead was crossed over by an apparently fresh wound decided to move forward with an uncovered attack on a stranger. Mathias could not blame him. In Estonia, the land that tried to make it through the quite tough times, people like him, that is to say, people devoted to the punk culture could only hope for a better perception of their selves. That involved, for a kickoff, a better understanding of the origins and existence of their culture and, ideally, less or no condemnation of the bad habits that most of the punks had, according to the public.

In any case, Mathias knew he did not make any mistake by having chosen him. It seemed to him that the young Estonian himself was the leader of that offhand punk gang judging by how daringly he rebuffed his fellow gang mate with a clear and abrupt ‘oota!’. His frown vanished freeing space for a spark of interest. Hoary smoke disappeared into the soft blow of the April wind, not freezing yet not too warm. He was looking at Mathias and his astonishingly vibrant eyes revealed emotions rather opposite to the light dimming inside his body. To Mathias, it seemed like the tragic but, nevertheless, stunning fate of the Estonian folk itself was reflecting in the eyes of this young man.

“Ma ei oska vene keelt,” The Estonian breathed into the air thickened by the cigarette smoke and locked his eyes with the stranger. Mathias gave him a smile getting his message. In the scope of the latest events, he could not even ask for the opposite.

“Ma ei oska ka vene keelt.” The Dane felt that his Estonian language skills had just reached their limit. “English?”

Someone in this incredible company seemed to have started to be running out of patience. Someone else pocked the leader in his shoulder but he shrugged it off making it clear that the next poke would cost his fellow not a mere shrug but a punch. With the back of the hand. There was someone who smirked and spit on the gravel-inlaid road.

“No English, vend.” Here is where Mathias started losing his hope in the abyss of the language barrier. Up to the point when the Estonian himself restored it by giving it a chance to exist with a soft but clear, “Aber ich kann Deutsch sprechen.”

Mathias’ lips stretched in a wide smile of relief. He knew they would make it work from that time on.

***

Only two things in this world could Mathias not stand – being bound to one place and the lack of inspiration. The prior was pretty hard to live with yet easy to handle. At least, for the man that made a living from writing articles for an independent publisher, finding himself in different points in the world to seek unconditional and outstanding events was quite a regular thing – later on, Mathias used them as sources for the new pieces of word art. He could not say that such activity earned him a fortune though; it happened to be just enough to make ends meet. Not that Mathias longed for more. Most of his time he spent outside the walls of his tiny apartment in Aarhus and in times of inspiration did not care much for a place to sleep or the food offered to him but was thrilled by a single fact of being somewhere new and uncharted. In the end, his every little adventure ended up with a new article sent to the publisher for editing – and off he went again as he found himself at the starting point of a circle of his life.

The inspiration was a completely opposite problem. Especially in the recent times. Although the nineties, the times of drastic changes in the unstable world, gave practically endless room for seeking inspiration, Mathias could not find a single place to plant his seed of creation. Everyone around him was making too much noise about the fall of the iron curtain and the collapse of the entire (post) Soviet bloc. But the Dane found it absolutely boring.

This was how Mathias ended up in Estonia. While the rest of the First World was enjoying the comfort and coziness of their apartments reaping the benefits of the post-industrial society and shaking their heads in disapproval of what was going on beyond the borders of the former Land of the Soviets, Mathias had got enough of this worthless pleasure. The decision was made out of the blue. The Dane visited his office the same day letting the boss know with undoubted valor that he was going to chase an ultimate breakthrough in the art of periodical writing in liberated Estonia.

So here he was, standing in the middle of a paved street road having his light scarf wrapped around his neck and put on the variety of decent tourist equipment: a backpack full of snacks and items he did not even recall, a fresh t-shirt, a new coat and a map with a proud ‘Tallinn’ printed at its top. However, this is where the tourist image of the young Dane came to its limits. Tourism as such was the last thing he sought in this cold land not yet recovered from the terrors of the last fifty years.

Mathias knew exactly what he sought. He sought people that were deemed yet not threatening but rather isolated. The young men wearing high boots and creating colorful masterpieces, that could easily beat up the most professional barbers in the art of hair styling, out of their hair. The young ladies changing the ‘right’ and ‘socially acceptable’ garments for the ultra-short skirts and combing their hair up in the chaotic shape to the point when even the strongest storm could not bother their cocky looks. People that could spit on the ground with no back thinking and drink themselves until they dropped in public, not really caring for anything anyone could say and leaving their feelings and thoughts live within the community of their own where no outsider was ever welcome.

Mathias sought them, the people with no right to be spoken of. The free folk of free Estonia, the folk that the rest of the society called punk, somewhat with disgust, somewhat with generalization. Mathias could not find peace unless he told their story to the world, the story shaped by historical, social and political events that had no equivalent anywhere else on Earth.

And so he went along the streets of Tallinn gathering the tiny pieces of the Estonian punk culture found in the words and faces of those who cherished it and allowed the Dane to take a grasp of it as of their souls and cores. Just when Mathias thought his journey was complete, he met Eduard. And oh, he proved the Dane wrong.

***

“Over here, vend!” A loud voice made Mathias almost let go of his camera, not because of the shock, though. It was more because of how familiar the voice seemed to him, that mellow, somewhat leisurely but also daring voice speaking German with a particular Estonian accent. “Out there, you hear me, vend? Putsi...” said the voice once again and the Dane looked back facing its source. Literally.

It was not the first time he and Eduard met by the Viru Gates. At first, he did not even hope for The Estonian’s consent to come and keep his promise to Mathias. However, here he was. He came to the spot every single day, first bringing some of his fellow friends along who had absolutely no command of German and therefore could not grasp the idea of the talks Eduard and Mathias shared. Soon enough Eduard found the presence of the gang members rather useless and started coming to their ‘usual spot’ by himself. Frankly speaking, Mathias was thankful for the opportunity to have conversations without the presence of any third parties around.

The reason for such an attitude was not really the fact Eduard’s pals did not give Mathias the same inspiration as Eduard himself.

Eduard was not tall. In fact, his height made the Dane look down at him every time they spoke. He was shameless, too. Although his voice revealed no impudence, it did not take the credit off his shamelessness. He was cold as the ice on the Tallinn roads when winter decided to remind the country of its long presence with the snowfall: it did not last long having melted in the early spring sun but as the twilight fell the puddles got deeply frozen causing Eduard to swear in his own language, totally incomprehensive for the Dane yet warm and sweet as latte in the cafe next to the Freedom Square. He was as plain as the rest of one million people forming the population of Estonia. Being one of them but also incredibly different from them, he left no room for comparison, the reason being hidden somewhere in the depth of his cornflower eyes dimmed with black makeup. He was conditional like apartment blocks of Tallinn’s Uus Linn, the New Town, reflecting in the lenses of his glasses yet careless and vibrant like the medieval houses of Vanalinn, the Old Town. Eduard smelled of salt of the Gulf of Finland that washed Tallinn’s shores and sweetness of infamous ginger caramel walnuts spreading the sugary smell all over the Old Town.

Someone might say he was perfect. Flawless. At a time, he was a mere Estonian guy, though, piercing Mathias with his cocky Estonian look and dictating him the rules of this cold land. Mathias did not mind. That was the reason he came here, after all.

This time the way led them to the park bench next to the Orthodox church at Toompea hills where the Dane, slightly amused, was observing Eduard drink out of the beer bottle and catching glimpses of every single passerby. At a certain point, Mathias even thought that he himself became a target for a part of those glances. However, The Estonian could not care less.

“How come you speak such perfect German?” Mathias broke the silence but Eduard did not seem to mind at all.

“My full name is Eduard von Bock,” he said watching his favorite beverage splash behind the dark green glass.

“Does not sound Estonian at all.”

“I come from the Baltic Germans folk. Well, half of me does. Not many of ‘em decided to stay after the occupation. The major part was returned to Germany by the Nazis. Back to the land of fathers where they were said they belonged.” Eduard slipped the glasses back onto the nose bridge where they also belonged. “But not my- what’s the word?” he cut the phrase short trying to remember the correct German word, “Ancestors. We all speak German. To not, like, forget our family roots or something. I don’t give a fuck about the roots, frankly. At least I can speak to you now. More or less a reason to have learned it.”

All this time the Dane was silently scrubbing the pages of his rather old but nevertheless priceless notebook with the tip of the pen. This is how the notes taken in this book usually turned into profound articles. His job was not to judge – he was there to listen, to comprehend, to write things down, to live them though and then to share them with the world. Judgment, in its purest form, was the readers’ job.

“Dare to tell me what you’re writing there all the time?” wondered the Estonian.

“Your story,” the Dane smiled. He could not ignore the change of emotions from amusement to understanding in Eduard’s eyes that followed after Mathias’ line and the way his lips stretched in a smile.

“’Course. You told me before,” smirked the Estonian and decided to finish his drink off. “I’m gonna be popular, ha. Life well spent.”

“Well, for purposes of confidentiality and protection of your personality I’ll have to change your name. For your own good.”

Eduard slipped off the bench carefully looking around to make sure no regular folk or law enforcement officer was watching and threw the empty bottle into the nearest wall observing it break into hundreds of sparkling pieces. Once again, Mathias did not say a word. Eduard put his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket and, instead of taking back the seat next to the Dane, sat down straight at the cold sidewalk watching Mathias carefully. A sudden breakout of wind tousled his pink hair strands calming down as unexpectedly as it started blowing.

“You’re nice, vend,” he said.

“How so?”

“Well... you’re not from our folk but I guess you have our spirit.” Eduard started rummaging through the pockets of his clipped leather jacket apparently looking for a pack of cigarettes. “You don’t judge. You’re trying to understand us. Usually, all we’ve got is people spitting in our faces.”

“You spit back at them, though,” said the Dane pursuing no purpose of insulting him with those words or point at his imperfections.

“People are weird creatures,” Eduard replied finally feeling a thin body of a cigarette between his fingers and impatiently lighting it on. “They are living in this crap for decades and putting up with shit those idiots are doing to Estonia but can’t stand a view of someone who simply does not look like them. This is why I spit in their faces. Not because they wanna piss off my pink hair or something. I don’t give a fuck. I spit back because they don’t care about the freedom we gave them. Where have they been when we were trying to reach out for the world by transmitting signals via Finland? When we were crafting the self-made transmitters of mercury thermometers in order to receive the broadcasts from Helsinki and spread the freedom of speech? When we were breaking off the Curtain? Where have they all been? Ha, they simply tightened their grip on us as their own opportunity. They saw hope in us. The revolution. We are the cause of the first Song Festival of the Free Land. But now they seem to have forgotten this. Now they are all not worth an old song. This is why I spit in their faces.”

His words forever imprinted in the broad handwriting of the Dane on the pages of his slightly worn out notebook got carried away by the rising wind. Mathias could see with the corner of his eye that Eduard frowned attempting to keep the cigarette lit.

“Jeez, I’m starving. You, vend?” The Dane sarcastically mimicked Eduard with his own nickname watching the Estonian sit on the freezing cold stones of the paved road and have absolutely no worries for the fate of his balls. Mathias genuinely thought that today’s meeting with this shameless young Estonian had come to its end and Eduard would refer to other plans to justify the unwillingness to follow the Dane. However, he did not expect a smile that appeared on the Estonian’s face at that moment.

“Is it on you, then?” he breathed raising up from the sidewalk and Mathias watched his German words disappear into the thin air.

“If you promise to meet me tomorrow at the same spot.”

There was a moment of silence, and Eduard allowed himself to finish his cigarette and give Mathias his verdict.

“Where are you staying?” asked Eduard suddenly giving Mathias an impression that he tried to escape giving promises.

“Anywhere,” he said shrugging. “I don’t need much.”

“That’s dope,” followed the reply and Eduard put the cigarette up by stepping on it. “From now on you’re staying at our condo. I’ve got a room all by myself. If you promise to buy food for everyone, I’m not gonna charge you a kroon for rent.”

Mathias beamed.

***

“Aight vend, here are my boys. Guys,” this time Eduard spoke Estonian addressing his young fellows, “This is Mathias. He’s with me.”

“Here guys, I brought a new dick to stick in my asshole tonight.” Someone in the corner of a great living room made himself heard and the room burst with laughter. Eduard rolled his eyes letting the confused Dane know with the gesture that there was nothing to pay attention to.

“Anyway, from right to left. This is Taavi, he’s joined us recently. We sorta keep an eye on him.” The Estonian pointed at the youngest, to Mathias’ thought, dweller of this spacious flat, and he welcomed the guest with his middle finger. “This,” Eduard stepped over what seemed to be a lifeless body whose soul had definitely departed this cruel world, “Is Erkki. Don’t bother him, he’s a busy man.”

The Dane gave the body whose name had just been identified as Erkki a suspicious look.

“And... what’s so important that he’s doing?”

“He’s thinking of the fate of the Estonian folk,” Eduard concluded seriously shrugging his jacket off and moving on to the next members of his gang. “This is Aare. He got us this condo so his rent share is less than the others’. Here we have Jürgen. He’s got a brain bro, nice working brain. It only works when he’s sober, though. And finally, this is Urmas. Urmas lives for the sake of two things – songs and girls.”

Mathias really had to take his time to get used to the new environment as well as the new housemates who he intended to spend quite some time living with. In reality, there was something more to this excitement he felt in his chest. He was thrilled to realize that the inspiration he was longing for had finally found him here, in the very heart of the punk community that resembled a family more than any other company he had ever seen.

Mathias simply could not believe his own happiness. One shall not lose himself in a dream. One cannot come to the new county, meet such a precious person there in a few days of time and, to sum everything up, blindly trust this person with his own life by accepting the very first offer to come and stay with him and the entire gang of people with the indefinite background. As much as he wanted to, Mathias knew nothing about them. He did not know their reasons to live for, the air they breathed, the sources of their inspiration and ideas or the things that made their lives worth living. Here was where experience came to place. The experience that had the power to distinguish dreams from reality.

Mathias spent the entire night writing. He wrote about the flags decorating the walls, the posters revealing the lines that were banned from use not that long ago. He wrote about the music he could not perceive by himself and sought his new neighbors’ help in order to understand the solid meaning of the lyrics. Mathias wrote about him, about this Estonian sitting on the floor with a recently lit cigarette and his eyes closed in tiredness and a simple wish to face his thoughts. He wrote about Eduard who reached out for the Dane trusting him back, just like Mathias trusted him once, letting him into his little personal world as well as the enormous world beyond the boundaries of his soul. He wrote about his cornflower eyes, his unbelievably calm yet highly inflammable spirit that made Mathias’ heart skip a beat from time to time.

“What are you writing about now?” Eduard spoke and his dense voice reminded the Dane of the cigarette smoke he let through his fingers.

“Urmas lives for the sake of two things – songs and girls,” smiled Mathias and the Estonian gave him a skeptical look.

“Oh yeah, that’s super important. Almost everyone in this room likes girls, you know.”

“Almost?” the Dane asked him back noticing the unease that went through the Estonian’s body as he inhaled the bitter smoke in his lungs particularly deeply.

“You know what they call me? Lilla,” said Eduard avoiding the eye contact. “It actually means ‘violet’, like, a color, you got me? But that’s not really the point here, vend. They use it to insult someone who doesn’t like girls. It means ‘a fag’.”

There was a certain degree of tension settling down in the air after he became silent. At that very moment, Mathias did not feel like joking anymore. Instead, this feeling was replaced by chilling shiver going down his spine, the feeling that usually possessed his body in times of anticipation or shock. The Dane could not say for sure which one of the two feelings prevailed. However, he immediately drew a picture of what could happen in the streets of post-Soviet Tallinn to someone who Estonians called lilla. Someone who could be prosecuted for being lilla not that long ago, if not worse.

“Listen, I can omit this if it makes things better–”

Eduard immediately frowned his blonde eyebrows letting the smoke out of his chest.

“Yea, sure, go ahead if you wanna rid me of my dignity! Not for toffee. I let you in my life, I let you tell my story so do me a favor and tell it right!”There was a sort of anger in his voice but Mathias had no doubt it had nothing to do with the Dane himself but rather with the experience Eduard had faced in a lifetime. “I am not ashamed of who I am. I don’t give a fuck about what those assholes say and what meaning they give to this lilla word. I don’t give a fuck if they’re gonna find me, stab me in the chest or break my ribs. I won’t run. Because you cannot escape from someone who is everywhere. You cannot escape from yourself. It makes no sense! I am not afraid. I am who I am and I’m not alone. Right now we have to hide from the idiots in the streets but I swear to you, the day will come and we will let ourselves be heard. The revolution is not over yet, vend. We are still fighting and we will not stop until we get what we want or die trying.”

Eduard put up his unfinished cigarette leaving it in the common ashtray and stood up to start walking towards his room. He did not even give a chance for the Dane’s disarray to settle by giving him a brief line: “Are you coming or what?” Mathias followed him right away grabbing his stuff from the floor and vanishing behind the door to Eduard’s room until next morning.

***

In the next few days, Mathias’ good old notebook got filled in with notes to the cover. He even managed to find the ways to communicate with the rest of Eduard’s second family (not without his help, of course) whose thoughts and memories he also imprinted in the paper. Mathias tried to grasp every single little moment, every detail of their lives as well as Eduard’s brave and somewhat wise thoughts that came out of nowhere from time to time. Once it happened to him after the Estonian offer him a self-made joint.

“Do you want to die healthy or happy?” asked Eduard raising his eyebrows at Mathias’ refusal to his offer and explanation that smoking does no good.

“You think that dying both happy and healthy is not an option?” he parried. Eduard rolled his eyes inhaling the smoke and letting it out of his deeply smoked lungs.

“How do you even see this, ha? I know no one who would die because he had too much health. We all die. Someone dies from aging, others from injuries or accidents but anyway, everyone dies from an inability to handle certain effects. Everybody is given a particular amount of energy upon birth. Since that moment, we die every day because our bodies slowly give up the energy we were given. And then it gets replaced by exhaustion and tiredness. You simply haven’t felt it yet. But go out there and find, let’s say, a fifty-year-old dude. Ask him a question. Ask him out for a drink tonight and he will refuse. Because it is you who can drink all night long and then wake up at seven in the morning and go waste your life in the office or whatever like nothing happened the night before. He can’t do the same anymore because his body has let go of too much energy in all the years. One day we all come to this thought and then there’s nothing we can do. And so we let go. And as you see it has nothing to do with smoking.”

Mathias gave him a sly smirk but in his mind, he could not help but agree with the fact Eduard’s words did not lack reasoning.

“You’re way too smart for your 22, aren’t you?”

“It’s as easy as pie, vend,” the Estonian shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about that. There’s nothing too smart about it. It’s just who we are.”

Sometimes Eduard got lost somewhere in town having left Mathias his set of keys to not let the Dane find himself trapped in the apartment (and to allow him to get outside and do some grocery shopping just as agreed). The other day the Estonian would develop certain melancholy which only he could perceive and express by the unwillingness to leave the bed listening to J.M.K.E. and lighting up self-made joints one by one all day long. Mathias just let it be. Very soon both of them started to realize that their lives would have never taken any other direction. The nights they spent being half the time among the other gang members, half the time with each other made their souls collide to the point when they no longer felt that the usual night routine satisfied them both.

That night Eduard made sure the door to his room was locked. He simply did not want a single soul to distract him from the lips that tasted too sweet to Eduard’s thinking. He was the one to take this first step towards being even closer than before and, having made sure the Dane was eagerly reciprocating his insistent, almost demanding kiss, allowed the impossible to happen. The Estonian let him come too close, break through the layers of smeared makeup, pink hair and cocky words to reveal a vulnerable soul in his core. He let the Dane know him as deeply as no one had ever dared to even try to get to know him before.

After all, there was no difference between their bodies rushing together, willing to feel each other’s skin. Eduard lay open and naked in front of Mathias and the Dane contemplated his chest surge heavily, fingers stroking down the ribs, his skin covering some decent muscles underneath, his bluish veins revealing themselves as the Estonian tightened his grip on the Dane’s shoulders, their hips tenderly colliding and making their desires look so obvious. Mathias reached out for his neck caressing it with endless kisses and let Eduard’s hands touch the Dane’s body wherever he wanted. And oh he did just that. He was barely breathing, brushing his fingers against Mathias’ back in slow, soothing movements that trailed down to his hips, found the way to his chest and finally rested on his warm neck. All the differences between them did not matter anymore. There were no boundaries, no history, no culture or politics – anything that would draw a fine line between people in the outside world. In Eduard’s world behind the locked door there was nothing that would remind either of them of the different lives they used to live, though.

So Eduard allowed Mathias to get even deeper under his skin. He allowed the Dane to lock his arms around his body causing Eduard to let out a choked gasp and words whose meaning remained a mystery for Mathias. He allowed him to watch the Estonian arch his spine, to tangle his fingers in Eduard’s hair, to gently put their arousals together shifting the fingers in a soft yet intense touch. A whispering ‘keppi mind’ escaped into the distance between their lips filled with the thick, moist, almost burning hot air and Eduard squeezed Mathias’ waist with his legs letting him in, letting him come closer, letting him thrust into his body, making his insides burn. As they were melting together, the Estonian forgot his own name; he was calling Mathias by his instead for the first time since the very moment they saw each other by Kadriorg. That moment was enough for him to realize that perhaps they would not be a one night stand – and so he got lost in a long, open-mouthed, moist kiss as his body trembled in sweet relief...

As soon as the morning came, Mathias made himself clear about their fate. For the reasons that left the Estonian completely flabbergasted and set him off track, the Dane announced his departure later this evening. His job in Estonia was done and he did not see any other reasons to stay there any longer. At least, this was what Mathias said. He did not even give a single chance to either of them to let things sink in leaving Eduard alone with his bare soul hanging out of his body, shattered and broken into million pieces.

Of course, that was enough for Eduard to throw Mathias out of the condo together with all the stuff he brought in. He did not really incline to any mercy, say any last words or threat him with serious consequences should Mathias ever decide to come back. The Estonian simply did not see any merit in this. Was there any merit in this situation at all?

“Mida sa tegid?” was the only thought that rushed through his mind as Eduard was falling into an unconscious sleep. The regret filled his heart – the regret of having approached the Dane in the first place. If only he had known.

***

“East or West, home is best,” said the infamous expression. Some people praise it as the absolute truth. Others are always ready to challenge its meaning. One way or another, everyone perceives it in their own unique way.

For some of us, home is a place where we first saw the light of day. Indeed, those of us who find such place home contribute to its everyday life in order to make it at least slightly better for themselves as well as the others. For some of us, though, place of birth has nothing to do with home. It is a place that sets such people at a starting line of a lifetime creating numerous challenges and obstacles that make them wonder whether they are actually calling a right place a home. At that point, they wander along in their thoughts seeking a home where their hearts would settle.

Mathias had been running away his entire life. He fled each and every place that bore a threat to him – a threat of becoming attached to somewhere or losing himself. That night, while walking down the streets of the Estonian capital the Dane raised his head to look up at the roofs of two towers forming Viru Gates. Their usual spot. The spot where he and Eduard used to meet. The place that divided the present and the past, split the buildings of the New and the Old Towns as well as two young souls.

“What am I really doing here?” he was thinking. Lonely, lost, having his heart left somewhere in Kadriorg on a cloudy day in April. Standing in the country that used to be foreign to him but seemed to have become something so much more in the end.

Mathias could not tear his glance off the place where the Estonian, whose essence itself smelled of smoke and sweet caramel, waited for him every day the same hour. The paved road broadened in front of him in its medieval glory. The rows of colorful, almost toy-like houses framed the road leading to the place where the Town Hall Square tower proudly winded to the sky. Tiredness and weird thoughts occupied the Dane’s mind and he went through the Viru Gates once again, facing the void of a very familiar spot.

That night he seemed to have lost his ferry ticket to Helsinki, deliberately or accidentally, for he urged to reunite with the light of the cornflower eyes dimmed with the shadows of black makeup, the scent of the hair freshly dyed acidic pink and warmth of the spirit Mathias would never trade for anything in the world.

“Mul on nii kahju,” he whispered as Eduard surrounded him by tightening embrace of his shivering arms.

“Lilla.” That single word was everything the Estonian could say in return, too happy for the sentimental greeting. Mathias did not mind. After all, it was the Eduard he met by Kadriorg. Eduard he never wanted to lose anymore.

***

“Everyone, listen up! I’ve got my contact with the publishing! It means that my book will be translated and printed!” The Dane came back to the apartment on the seventh heaven. The loud cheers followed the announcement, someone in the familiar corner even left out a cheeky comment about all the work Mathias had to do to earn some decent sex that night. That, in return, was followed by a sound ‘ime lahti’ coming from one of the bedrooms revealing Eduard leaning on the door frame and smiling widely.

Surely, Eduard had other ways to express his happiness with the news: that is to give Mathias a particularly deep kiss – behind the closed doors of his room, of course.

“So, does it mean you came up with a final title after all?” Eduard asked exhaling some bitter smoke from a cigarette he reached out for after their lips parted.

“Guess so.”

“Dare to tell me what it is then?”

“Kodu. Home,” replied Mathias. “’Cause this story is about you, about me, about every one of us. About people of this small imperfect land where revolution is still raging. But we’re gonna fight through it, for our home, for our happiness... don’t you think so?”

Eduard just smiled.

#denest #aph denest #aph denmark #aph estonia #rarepair #eduard is punk af #mathias has a thing for a punk boi #the 1990s #punks #eesti #hetalia #aph fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 6 years

Text

NOW 2~G-Dragon Pt.24

Genre:Angst/SMUT

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:6,784

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book

Jiyong helps me zip, up and I rake my fingers through my hair while he buttons his jeans. “What time is it?” I ask as he slides his shoes back on.

“Two minutes till midnight,” he answers, after looking at the alarm clock on the small desk.

“Oh . . . well, we need to hurry and get downstairs,” I tell him. I’m still beyond intoxicated, but now I’m relaxed and calm, thanks to Jiyong. Drunk or not, I can’t believe what happened with Cgaerin.

“Let’s go.” He takes my hand, and we nearly make it to the staircase before everyone begins chanting.

“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”

Jiyong rolls his eyes.

“Seven . . . six . . .”

“This is stupid,” Jiyong complains.

“Five . . . four . . . three . . .” I begin chanting. “Do it with me,” I say.

He tries not to smile, but is defeated as a huge grin spreads across his face. “Two . . . one . . .” I poke his cheek with my finger.

“Happy New Year!” everyone screams, including me.

“Yay for the New Year,” Jiyong says in a monotone voice, and I laugh as he presses his lips to mine. Part of me was worried that he wouldn’t kiss me here, in front of everyone, but he is now. As my hands travel to his waist he grabs them to stop me. When he pulls away, his emerald eyes are shining. He is so beautiful.

“Aren’t you worn out?” he jokes, and I shake my head.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t coming onto you.” I smile. “I really need to pee.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“Nope. Be right back,” I say, giving him a small kiss before walking to the bathroom. I should have had him come along; this is much more difficult than it is when I’m sober. Tonight has been so fun, even with the Chaerin drama. Jiyong has surprised me by being calm, even with Seungri, and he’s remained in a good mood all night. After I wash my hands, I head back down the hall to find Jiyong.

“Jiyong !” a female voice calls.

I look over and see a familiar face: the girl with the black hair who bumped into me earlier. And she’s walking toward Jiyong. Being the nosy girl that I am, I stay back a few feet.

“I have your phone, you left it in Logan’s room.” She smiles, pulling Jiyong’s phone from her purse.

What? It’s nothing, I’m sure. They were in Logan’s room, which means most likely they were not alone. I trust him.

“Thanks.” He grabs the phone from her, and she begins to walk away. Thank God.

“Hey!” he calls after her.

“Can you do me a favor and maybe not mention to anyone that we were in Logan’s room together?” he asks.

“I never kiss and tell.” She grins and walks off.

The hallway begins to spin. My chest immediately aches, and I quickly head for the stairs. Jiyong notices me rushing by, and I watch as the color drains from his face, knowing he’s been caught.

Jiyong POV

I notice a flicker of gold a few feet away. I look past Jamie and see Y/N, whose eyes are wide and whose bottom lip starts trembling. She goes from deer in headlights to angry girlfriend quickly and takes off down the stairs fast.

What? “Y/N! Wait!” I yell after her. For someone as drunk as she is, she’s really flying down those steps. Why must she always run from me?

“Y/N!” I shout again, pushing people out of my way.

Finally, when I’m only a few feet from her in the entryway, she does something that nearly brings me to my knees. The blond asshole who was checking her out earlier whistles as she rushes by. As she stops in her tracks, her look makes me freeze, too. Grinning, she grabs a handful of the kid’s shirt.

What the fuck is she doing? Is she going to . . .

She answers my thoughts by looking back at me before pressing her lips against his. I blink rapidly in an attempt to make this disappear. This isn’t happening. She wouldn’t do that, not Y/N, no matter how pissed off she is.

The kid, surprised by her sudden show of affection, quickly recovers and wraps his arms around her waist. Her mouth opens, and she moves one hand to his hair, tugging on it. I can’t comprehend what’s actually happening right now.

“Jiyong! Stop!” she screams.

Stop what? When I blink again, I’m on top of the blond, and his lip is busted. I hit him already?

“Please, Jiyong!” she screams again.

I climb off of him in a hurry before everyone crowds around us. “What the fuck?” the kid groans.

I want to kick him in his fucking head, but I’ve been trying to restrain myself. She had to go and fucking do this, mess up everything I’ve been working toward. I head for the door without bothering to see if she’s following me.

“Why did you hit him?” her voice calls from behind me as I reach my car.

“Why do you think, Y/N? Maybe because I just watched you fucking make out with him!” I scream. I almost forgot what it feels like, this adrenaline rush and the familiar sting on my knuckles. I only got one hit in . . . I think, at least . . . so it’s not so bad. But I want more.

She begins to cry. “Why do you care? You kissed that girl! Probably more than kissed! How could you?”

“No! You don’t get to fucking cry, Y/N. You just kissed someone right in front of me!” My hand connects with the hood of my car.

“You did worse! I heard you tell that girl to stay quiet about you two in Logan’s room!”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about—I didn’t fucking kiss anyone!”

“Yes, you did! She said she doesn’t kiss and tell!” she screams, waving her arms around like an idiot. Fuck, she is infuriating.

“It’s a fucking figure of speech, Y/N. She meant she wasn’t going to tell anyone anything that we talked about—or that we were smoking pot!” I shout.

She gasps. “You were smoking pot?”

“No, I wasn’t, actually, but who gives a shit! You just fucking cheated on me!” I tug at my own hair.

“Why did you leave me to hang out with her, then tell her not to say anything? It doesn’t make any—”

“She’s Dan’s sister! I was telling her not to say anything because I was trying to apologize privately for what I did to her. I was going to tell you tomorrow when you weren’t fucking belligerent! We were all in the room, me, her, Logan, and Nate. They were smoking a joint, and when they left I asked her to stay behind because I wanted to try to make shit right with her, for you.” All my anger comes out through my eyes, I’m certain, when I say, “I wouldn’t fucking cheat on you—you should know that!”

And like that, Y/N deflates. She’s speechless. Damn right she is. She’s fucking wrong, and I am fucking mad.

“Well . . .” she begins.

“Well what? You’re wrong, not me. You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself. Instead you acted like a child. An impulsive little child!” I scream, punching the hood again. She jumps from the noise, but I don’t give a shit.

I should just go back inside, find the blond guy, and finish what I started. Punching my car doesn’t give me the same satisfaction.

“I’m not a child! I thought you did something with her!” she shouts back at me through her tears.

“Well, I didn’t! After everything I went through to get you to stay with me, do you think I’d cheat on you with a random chick at a party . . . or hell, with anyone?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” She throws her hands into the air again. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to calm myself.

“Well, that’s on you, then. I don’t know what the hell else to do to make you see that I love you.” She kissed someone—she kissed another guy right in front of me. This feels worse than when she left me; at least I could blame myself then.

Her warm breath is creating puffs of smoke in the cold air. “Well, maybe if I wasn’t so used to you keeping secrets, I wouldn’t have been so ready to misunderstand!” she yells.

I look at her. “You’re unbelievable. I honestly cannot even look at you right now.” The image of her kissing him won’t stop playing over and over.

“I’m sorry for kissing him.” She sighs. “It isn’t that big of a deal.”

“You’re joking, right? Please tell me that you are, because if that had been me kissing someone else, you probably wouldn’t have spoken to me again! But I forgot that since it’s Princess Y/N, it’s okay! No harm done!” I mock.

She crosses her arms with an indignation she doesn’t deserve. “Princess Y/N? Really, Jiyong?”

“Yeah, really! You cheated on me, right in front of me! I brought you here so you would know how much I care about you. I wanted you to know that I don’t care what anyone thinks about us. I wanted you to have the best night you could have, and then you go and do this shit!”

“ Jiyong . . . I . . .”

“No! I’m not done.” I pull out my keys. “You’re acting as if this is no big deal! This is a huge deal to me. To see another man’s lips on yours . . . is . . . I can’t even explain how sick that makes me.”

“I said—”

I lose it. I know I look wild and scary, but I can’t help it. “Stop interrupting me for once in your goddamn life!” I shout. “You know what . . . it’s fine. You can go back in there and ask your new boyfriend to give you a ride home.” I turn and unlock the car door. “He looks a lot like Hoseok, and you probably miss him.”

“What? What does Hoseok have to do with this? And I clearly do not have a type,” she growls and gestures at me. “Though maybe I should.”

“Fuck this,” I spit and climb into the car, turning it on and leaving her standing out in the cold. When I get to the stop sign, I can’t help but hit the steering wheel over and over.

If she doesn’t call me within an hour, I’ll know she went home with someone else.

Y/N POV

Ten minutes later I’m still standing on the sidewalk. My legs and arms are numb, and I’m shivering. Jiyong will come back any minute, there’s no way he’ll actually leave me here, alone. Drunk and alone.

When I go to call him, I remember that he has my phone. Great.

What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. We were doing so good, and I didn’t even try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Instead I kissed someone. The memory makes me want to vomit on the sidewalk.

Why hasn’t he come back yet?

I need to go inside. It’s way too cold out here, and I want another drink. My buzz is starting to wear off, and I’m not ready to face reality. When I get inside, I head directly for the kitchen and pour myself a drink. This is why I shouldn’t drink—I have no common sense when I’m drunk. I immediately assumed the worst of him and made a huge mistake.

“Y/N?” Seungri’s voice says from behind me.

“Hey.” I groan and lift my head up from the cool counter and turn to face him.

“Um . . . what are you doing?” He half laughs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah . . . I’m okay,” I lie.

“Where’s Jiyong ?”

“He left.”

“He left? Without you?”

“Yep.” I take a drink from my cup.

“Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” I answer honestly.

“I doubt that.” He smiles.

“No, really, I am this time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.” I sigh.

“Okay . . . well, I’ll leave you alone,” he says and begins to walk away. But then he turns back around. “It’s not supposed to be so complicated, you know?”

“What?” I ask him and follow him to sit at a card table in the kitchen.

“Love, relationships, all that. It doesn’t have to be so hard.”

“Doesn’t it, though? Isn’t it always like this?” I have no reference except Noah. We never fought like this, but I don’t know that I loved him. Not like I do Jiyong . I dump my drink down the sink and grab a glass to fill with water.

“I don’t think so. I’ve never seen anyone fight the way you two do.”

“It’s because we’re so different, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I guess you are.” He smiles.

By the time I check the clock again, it’s been an hour since Jiyong left me here. Maybe he isn’t coming back after all. “Would you forgive someone if they kissed someone else?” I finally ask Seungri.

“I guess it depends on the details.”

“What if they did it right in front of you?”

“Hell, no. That’s unforgivable,” he says with a disgusted expression.

“Oh.”

Seungri leans toward me sympathetically. “He did that?”

“No.” I look up at him with wide eyes. “I did.”

“You did?” Seungri is clearly surprised.

“Yeah . . . I told you I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, I hate to say it, but you are.”

“Yep,” I agree.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

“Well, I keep thinking he’s going to come back to get me, but he’s obviously not going to.” I bite my lip.

“I can take you if you want,” he says. But when I look around uncertainly, he adds, “Or Hyuna and Tristan are probably upstairs . . . you know.”

I look at him quickly. “Actually, can you take me now?” I don’t want to dig myself in any deeper, but I’m beginning to sober up, thank goodness, and I just want to be home to try to talk to Jiyong.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Seungri says, and I down the last of my water before following him outside to his car.

WHEN WE’RE ONLY about ten minutes away from the apartment, I begin panicking over Jiyong’s reaction to Seungri driving me home. I keep trying to force myself to sober up, but it doesn’t work that way. I’m a lot less intoxicated than I was an hour ago, but I’m still drunk.

“Can I use your phone to try to call him?” I ask Seungri.

He removes one hand from the steering wheel to dig into his pocket for his phone. “Here . . . shit, it’s dead,” he says, pressing the button on the top and revealing an empty-battery symbol.

“Thanks anyway.” I shrug. Calling Jiyong from Seungri’s phone probably isn’t the best idea I’ve had. Not as bad as my idea to kiss a random guy in front of Jiyong , but still not a good one.

“What if he isn’t here?” I say.

Seungri looks at me quizzically. “You have a key, don’t you?”

“I didn’t bring mine . . . I didn’t think I would need it.”

“Oh . . . well . . . I’m sure he’ll be here,” Seungri says, but he sounds nervous.

Jiyong would literally murder him if he found me at Seungri’s place. When we do arrive at the apartment, Seungri parks and I scan the parking lot for Jiyong’s car. And it’s parked in his usual spot, thank God. I have no idea what I would have done if he weren’t here.

Seungri insists on walking me up. As much as I think that will not end well, I don’t know if I’m capable of getting myself up to the apartment alone in my intoxicated state.

Damn Jiyong for leaving me at that party. Damn me for being an impulsive idiot. Damn Seungri for being so sweet and fearless when he shouldn’t be. Damn Gangnam for being so damn cold.

When we reach the elevator, my head begins to pound along with my heart. I need to go over what I’m going to say to Jiyong. He’ll be so mad at me, and I need to think of a good way to apologize without using sex. I’m not used to being the one to apologize for anything, because he’s always the one who messes up. Being on this side of things doesn’t feel good at all. It feels terrible.

We walk down the hallway, and I can’t help but feel as if we’re preparing to walk the plank. I just don’t know whether it will be Seungri or myself that drops down into the water.

I knock, and Seungri stands a few feet behind me as we wait for the door to open. This was a terrible idea, I should’ve just stayed at the party. I knock again, this time louder. What if he doesn’t answer?

What if he took my car and isn’t even here? I didn’t think of that.

“If he doesn’t answer, can I go to your place?” I try to hold my tears back.

I don’t want to stay at Seungri’s and make Jiyong even more upset with me, but I can’t really think of another option.

What if he doesn’t forgive me? I can’t be without him. Seungri’s hand touches my back, and he rubs up and down to soothe me. I cannot cry, I need to be calm when he answers . . . if he answers.

“Of course you can,” Seungri finally replies.

“ Jiyong ! Please open up,” I quietly beg and rest my forehead against the door. I don’t want to yell and cause a scene at nearly two in the morning; our neighbors probably have issues with us yelling enough already.

“I guess he’s not going to answer.” I sigh and lean up against the wall for a minute. Then, finally, as we turn to walk away, the door clicks open.

“Well . . . look who decided to show up,” Jiyong says as he stands in the doorway and eyes us. Something about his tone sends chills down my spine. When I turn to face him, his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are pink. “ Seungri! Pal! It’s so nice to see you,” he slurs. He’s drunk.

My thoughts suddenly clear. “ Jiyong . . . have you been drinking?”

He looks at me imperiously, clearly unsteady. “What’s it to you? You have a new boyfriend.”

“ Jiyong. . .” I don’t know what to say to him. He’s obviously wasted. The last time I saw him this drunk was the night Taeyang called me to come to Ken’s house. With his father’s history of drinking, and the way Trish was so fearful that Jiyong had began to drink again, my heart sinks.

“Thank you for bringing me home, I think you should go now,” I politely say to Seungri. Jiyong is too drunk to be around Seungri.

“Noooo-ho-ho . . .” Jiyong exhales. “Come on in! Let’s have a drink together!” He grabs Seungri’s arm and pulls him through the doorway.

I follow them in, protesting, “No, this is not a good idea. You’re drunk.”

“It’s fine,” Seungri tells me, waving me off. It’s almost like he has a death wish.

Jiyong stumbles over to the coffee table, grabs the bottle of dark liquor standing on it, and pours the liquid into a glass. “Yeah, Y/N. Chill the fuck out.” I want to yell at him for speaking to me that way, but I can’t find my voice. “Here you go—I’ll get another one. One for you, too, Y/N,” Jiyong mumbles and walks into the kitchen.

Seungri sits in the chair, and I take a seat on the couch. “I’m not leaving you here alone with him. Look how drunk he is,” he whispers. “I thought he didn’t drink?”

“He doesn’t . . . not like this. This is my fault.” I put my head in my hands. I hate that Jiyong is drunk because of what I did. I wanted us to have a civil conversation so I could apologize for everything.

“No, it’s not,” Seungri assures me.

“This one’s . . . for you,” Jiyong says loudly as he bursts back into the room and hands me a glass half full of liquor.

“I don’t want any more. I drank enough tonight.” I take the glass from his hands and set it on the table.

“Suit yourself, more for me.” He smiles at me something evil, not the same as the smile I’ve grown to adore. I’m honestly a little frightened. I know Jiyong would never hurt me physically, but I don’t like this side of him. I would rather him be screaming at me or punching a wall than sitting here drunk off his ass and being so calm. Too calm.

Seungri gives a little “cheers” and brings his drink to his lips.

“This is just like old times, isn’t it? You know, back before you wanted to fuck my girl,” Jiyong says, and Seungri spits his drink back into the glass.

“It’s not like that. You left her there, and I just brought her home,” Seungri says in a threatening tone.

Jiyong waves his own drink in the air. “I’m not just talking about tonight, and you know it. Though I am pretty annoyed by you taking it upon yourself to bring her home. She’s a big girl, she can fend for herself.”

“She shouldn’t have to fend for herself,” Seungri fires back.

Jiyong slams his glass onto the table, and I jump. “That’s not up to you! You wish it was, though, don’t you?”

I feel like I’m in the middle of a gunfight, and I want to move, but my body won’t allow it. I watch in horror as my Mr. Darcy begins to transform into Tom Buchanan . . .

“No,” Seungri responds.

Jiyong sits down next to me but keeps his glassy eyes focused on Seungri. I look down at the bottle, which is at least a fourth gone. I pray that Jiyong has not consumed all of it tonight, within the last hour and a half.

“Yeah, it is. I’m not stupid. You want her; Chaerin told me everything you said before.”

“Leave it alone, Jiyong ,” Seungri growls, only egging Jiyong on. “Your first problem is talking to Chaerin.”

“ ‘Oh, Y/N is so beautiful, Y/N is so sweet! Y/N is too good for Jiyong ! Y/N should be with me!’ ” Jiyong mocks.

What?

Seungri avoids looking at me. “Shut the fuck up, Jiyong.”

“Hear that, babe? Seungri thought he could actually have you.” Jiyong laughs.

“Stop it, Jiyong,” I say and get up from the couch.

Seungri looks humiliated. I shouldn’t have asked him to drive me home. Did he really say those things about me? I had assumed the way he acted toward me had to do with shame over the bet, but now I’m not so sure.

“Look at her, I bet you’re thinking about it right now . . . aren’t you?” Jiyong taunts him. Seungri glares at Jiyong and sets his drink on the table. “You will never have her, kid, so give it up. No one will have her except me, I’m the only one who will ever fuck her. The only one who will know how good it feels to have her—”

“Stop it!” I yell. “What the hell is wrong with you!”

“Nothing, I’m just telling him how it is,” Jiyong answers.

“You’re being cruel,” I tell him. “And disrespectful to me!” I turn to Seungri . “I really think you should go.” Seungri looks at Jiyong, then back to me. “I’m fine,” I assure him.

I don’t know what will happen, but I know it won’t be as bad as what will occur if he stays. “Please,” I beg.

Finally Seungri nods. “Fine, I’ll go. He needs to get his shit together. Both of you do.”

“You heard her, get the fuck out. Don’t be too sad, though, she doesn’t want me either.” Jiyong takes another drink. “She likes those clean-cut pretty boys.”

My heart sinks even lower, and I know I’m in for a long night. I don’t know if I should be afraid, but I’m not. Well . . . a little, but I’m not leaving.

“Out,” Jiyong repeats, pointing, and Seungri heads for the door.

Once Seungri is no longer in the apartment, Jiyong locks the door and turns to face me. “You’re lucky I didn’t beat his ass for bringing you here. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I agree. Arguing with him doesn’t seem like a good idea.

“Why did you even come here?”

“I live here.”

“Not for long.” He pours more alcohol.

“What?” The air leaves my lungs. “You’re going to kick me out?”

When the glass is full, he cocks one eye at me. “No, you’ll leave on your own eventually.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Maybe your new lover has room at his place. The two of you looked really nice together.” The hateful way he’s speaking to me takes me back to the beginning of our relationship, and I don’t like it.

“ Jiyong , please stop saying those things. I don’t even know him. And I’m incredibly sorry for what I did.”

“I will say what I want, just the way you do whatever the fuck you want.”

“I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me so cruelly and drink like this. I was so drunk, and I really thought something happened with you and that girl, I didn’t know what to think. I’m so sorry, I’d never hurt you purposely.” I say it all as fast as I can, with as much emphasis as possible, but he isn’t listening.

“You are still talking?” he snaps.

I sigh and chew on my cheek. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “I’m going to go to bed and we can talk when you aren’t so drunk.”

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at me, so I take off my shoes and walk into the bedroom. As soon as I go to close the door, I hear glass shatter. When I rush into the living room, the wall is wet and glass litters the floor. I watch helplessly as he grabs the other two glasses and slams them against the wall. He takes one last swig from the bottle and then uses all of his strength to shatter it against the wall.

He grabs the lamp off the table, causing the cord to rip out of the wall before smashing it on the floor. Then he grabs a vase and breaks it against the brick. Why is his first instinct to break everything in sight?

“Stop it!” I scream. “ Jiyong , you’re going to break all of our stuff! Please stop it!”

“This is your fault, Y/N! You fucking caused this!” he shouts back and grabs another vase. I scurry into the living room and snatch the object from his hand before he can break it.

“I know it is! Please just talk to me,” I beg. I can’t hold my tears back any longer. “Please, Jiyong.”

“You fucked up, Y/N, so badly!” His fist slams against the wall.

I knew this was coming, and honestly, I’m surprised it took this long. I’m thankful he chose the drywall to hit—the brick surely would have damaged his hand much worse.

“Just leave me alone, dammit! Go away!” He paces back and forth before slamming both palms against the wall.

“I love you,” I blurt. I need to try to calm him, but he’s just so drunk and intimidating.

“Well, you don’t act like it! You kissed another fucking guy! Then you bring Seungri to my fucking house!”

My heart lurches at the mention of Seungri’s name. Jiyong humiliated him. “I know . . . I’m sorry.” I fight the urge to call him out for being a hypocrite. Yes, I know what I did was wrong, so wrong—but I have forgiven him for hurting me repeatedly.

“You know how fucking crazy, how absolutely fucking mad it makes me to see you with anyone else, and you go and do this shit!” The veins in his neck are turning a deep purple, and he’s beginning to resemble a monster.

“I said I’m sorry, Jiyong.” I speak as softly and slowly as I can manage. “What more can I say? I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He tugs at his hair. “Sorry doesn’t erase the image from my mind. It’s all I can see.”

I walk toward him and stand directly in front of him. He reeks of whiskey. “Then look at me, look at me.” I put my hands on his face, directing his gaze.

“You kissed him, you kissed someone else.” His voice is much lower than it was seconds ago.

“I know I did, and I’m so sorry, Jiyong . I wasn’t thinking. You know how irrational I can be.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I know, baby, I know.” I’m hoping those words will soften him.

“It hurts,” he says, though his bloodshot eyes have lost their edge. “I knew better than to have a girlfriend, not that I ever wanted one, but this is what happens when people date . . . or get married. This type of shit is why I need to be alone. I don’t want to go through this.” He pulls away from me.

My chest aches because he sounds like a child, a lonely, sad child. I can’t help but picture Jiyong as a child, hiding away as his parents fight over his father’s alcohol abuse. “ Jiyong, please forgive me. It won’t happen again, I will never do anything like this again.”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N, one of us will. That’s what people do when they love each other. They hurt each other, then break up or get divorced. I don’t want that for us, for you.”

I step closer to him. “That won’t happen with us. We’re different.”

He shakes his head lightly. “It happens with everyone; look at our parents.”

“Our parents just married the wrong people, that’s all. Look at Karen and your dad.” I’m relieved that he’s being much calmer now.

“They’ll get divorced, too.”

“No, Jiyong. I don’t think they will.”

“I do. Marriage is such a fucked-up concept: ‘Hey, I sort of like you, so let’s move in together and sign some paperwork promising to never leave each other, even though we won’t stick to it anyway.’ Why would anyone do that willingly? Why would you want to be tied down to one person forever?”

I’m not mentally prepared to process what he’s just said to me. He doesn’t see a future with me? He’s only saying this because he’s drunk. Right?

“Do you really want me to go? Is that what you want, to end this now?” I ask, looking straight into his eyes. He doesn’t answer me. “ Jiyong?”

“No . . . fuck . . . no, Y/N. I love you. I love you so fucking much, but you . . . what you did was so wrong. You took every single fear that I have and brought them to life in one action.” His eyes begin to water, and my chest begins to cave in.

“I know I did, I feel terrible for hurting you.”

He looks around the room, and I can see in his eyes that everything we’ve built here was him trying to prove himself to me. “You should be with someone like Noah,” he says.

“I don’t want to be with anyone except you.” I wipe my eyes.

“I’m afraid you will.”

“Afraid I’ll what? Leave you for Noah?”

“Not him exactly, but someone like him.”

“I won’t. Jiyong, I love you. No one else, I love you. I love everything about you, please stop doubting yourself.” It hurts me to think that he feels this way.

“Can you honestly tell me that you didn’t start seeing me to piss off your mum?”

“What?” I say, but he just watches me and waits for an answer. “No, of course not. My mother has nothing to do with us. I fell in love with you because . . . well, because I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t help it. I tried not to because of what my mother would think, but I never had a choice. I’ve always loved you, whether I wanted to or not.”

“Sure.”

“What can I do to make you see that?” After everything I’ve been through for him, how could he think me being with him is a way to rebel against my mother?

“Not kiss other guys, perhaps.”

“I know you’re insecure, but you should know that I love you. I have fought for you from day one, with my mother, Noah, everyone.”

But something I’ve said strikes him wrong. “ ‘Insecure’? I’m not insecure. But I’m also not going to sit around and be played for a fucking fool.”

With his sudden turn back to anger, I’m starting to get angry myself. “You are worried about ‘being played’?” I know what I did was wrong, but he has done much worse to me. He really did treat me like a fool—and I forgave him.

“Don’t start that shit with me,” he growls.

“We’ve come such a long way, we’ve been through so much, Jiyong. Don’t let one mistake take that from us.” I never thought I’d be the one begging for forgiveness.

“You did it, not me.”

“Stop being so cold to me. You’ve done a lot of things to me, too,” I snap.

Anger returns to his face, and he storms away from me, yelling over his shoulder, “You know what? I’ve done a lot of things, but you kissed someone right in front of me!”

“Oh, you mean like the night you had Chaerin on your lap and kissed her in front of me?”

He spins around quickly. “We weren’t together then.”

“Maybe not to you, but I thought we were.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter, Y/N.”

“So you’re saying that you aren’t going to let this go, then?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, but you are getting on my nerves.”

“I think you should go to bed,” I suggest. Despite the glimpses of understanding that have appeared in the last few minutes, it’s clear that he has his mind set on being cruel.

“I think you shouldn’t tell me what to do.”

“I know you’re angry and hurt, but you can’t talk to me that way. It’s not right and I won’t put up with it. Drunk or not.”

“I am not hurt.” He glares at me. Jiyong and his pride.

“You just said you were.”

“No, I didn’t, don’t tell me what I said.”

“Okay, okay.” I throw my hands up, giving in. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to pull the pin on the grenade that is Jiyong. He walks over to the key rack and takes his key chain off while he stumbles to grab his boots. “What are you doing?” I rush over to him.

“Leaving, what does it look like?”

“You aren’t leaving. You have been drinking. A lot.” I reach for his keys, but he slips them into his pocket.

“I don’t give a shit, I need more to drink.”

“No! You don’t. You had enough—and you broke the bottle.” I try to reach for his pocket, but he grabs ahold of my wrist like he has done countless times.

This time is different because he’s so angry, and for a second I begin to worry. “Let go,” I challenge him.

“Don’t try to stop me from leaving and I’ll let go.” He doesn’t let up, and I try to appear unaffected.

“ Jiyong . . . you’re going to hurt me.”

His eyes meet mine, and he lets go quickly. When he raises a hand, I flinch and slink back away from him, but he’s only running it through his hair, I see.

His eyes flash with panic. “You thought I was going to hit you?” he nearly whispers, and I back away farther.

“I . . . I don’t know, you’re so angry, and you’re scaring me.” I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but this is the easiest way to get him back to reality.

“You should know I wouldn’t hurt you. No matter how drunk I am, I wouldn’t fucking touch you.” He glares at me.

“For someone who hates your father so much, you sure as hell don’t have a problem acting like him,” I spit.

“Fuck you—I’m nothing like him!” he shouts.

“Yes, you are! You’re drunk, you left me at that party, and you broke half our decorations in the living room—including my favorite lamp! You are acting like him . . . the old him.”

“Yeah, well, you’re acting like your mum. A spoiled snobby little—” he sneers and I gasp.

“Who are you?” I ask and shake my head. I walk away, not wanting to hear any more from him, and I know if we continue to argue while he’s this drunk, it will not end well. He’s taken his disrespect to a whole new level.

“Y/N . . . I’m . . .” he begins.

“Don’t.” I turn and spit before continuing to the bedroom. I can take his rude comments, I can take him yelling at me—because, hell, I dish it out right back to him—but we both need distance before one of us says something even worse.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says and follows me.

I close the bedroom door and lock it behind me. I slide my back down its smooth surface until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees pulled up to my chest. Maybe we can’t make this work. Maybe he’s too angry and I’m too irrational. I push him too far and he does the same to me.

No, that isn’t true. We are good for each other because we push each other. Despite all the fights and tension between us, there’s passion. So much passion that it nearly drowns me, pulling me under. And he’s the only light, the only one to save me regardless of whether he’s the one dooming me.

Jiyong taps the wood softly. “Y/N, open the door.”

“Just go to sleep, please,” I cry.

“Dammit, Y/N! Open this door now. I’m sorry, okay?” he shouts and begins to pound at the door.

Praying that he won’t bust through the door, I force myself up off the floor and pad over to the dresser to dig through my bottom drawer. When I see the white of the paper, relief washes over me, and I go into the closet and close myself in there. As I begin reading Jiyong’s note to me, the pounding at the door is drowned out to the point of no longer existing. The ache in my chest dissolves along with my headache. Nothing exists except this letter, these perfect words from my imperfect Jiyong.

I read it over and over until my tears stop along with the noise from the hall. I desperately hope that he didn’t leave, but I’m not going out there to find out. My heart and my eyes are too heavy. I need to lie down.

Taking the letter with me, I drag my body to the bed, still wearing my dress. Eventually sleep comes to me, and I am free to dream of the Jiyong that scribbled these words on a sheet of paper in a hotel room.

WHEN I WAKE UP in the middle of the night, I fold the letter up and place it back in my bottom drawer before opening the bedroom door. Jiyong is asleep in the hallway, curled up in a ball on the concrete floor. Figuring I shouldn’t wake him, I leave him alone to sleep off his intoxication, and go back to sleep.

a/n well what a drama

#gdragon #bigbang gdragon #gdragon scenarios #gdradon #bigbang #bigbang seungri #bigbang fanfiction #bigbang smut #top bigbang #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop seungri #kpop series #bigbang scenarios #bigbang scenario #bigbang kwon jiyong #Kwon Jiyong #kwonjiyong

53 notes · View notes

cawfulwriting · 6 years

Text

Heel, Step, Turncoat

[This is a bit different from my usual fare, and was written for an assignment where we were supposed to write a one-act play. I adapted this from a short piece I wrote for a roleplaying site, using the characters I ran on that site. Plays don’t format very well for Tumblr, and a lot of edits had to be made so I could post this, so apologies for any awkward formatting.

Content Warnings: None]

Cast of Characters

Emi Kashiwara: Leader of a local girl gang. Infamous due to the methods that put her in power to begin with. Prissy and self-centered, and has a strong interest in fashion. Best friends with Kanon. Speaks with a valley girl accent.

Kanon Watanabe: Member of Emi's gang. The strong, silent type. Dated the previous gang leader, but betrayed her for Emi's sake. She's easily picked out of a crowd by her red raincoat.

Chiyo: A member of Emi's gang.

Haruna: A member of Emi's gang.

Nana Murakami: “Miss Not-Appearing-In-This-Play”. The previous gang leader, who Emi forced out when she started to have doubts.

Scene:

Behind a Japanese high school in an unnamed city, in an area where the faculty rarely ventures.

Time:

After school, close to sunset. Present day.

ACT 1

SETTING: EMI KASHIWARA stands in front of a brick wall, leaning against it slightly. The exterior wall around the school grounds can be seen from her location. The sound of cicadas chirping is faintly audible in the distance, and there is a slight orange light over the stage.

AT RISE: EMI looks around the stage casually, apparently not seeing what she's looking for. After a few seconds, she pulls a sheet of paper from the collar of her shirt, looks it over, and crumples it up and tosses it away, giving an irritated sigh. She reaches into her skirt's pocket and pulls out a package of cigarettes, thumbing the top open before shaking her head and returning it to her pocket. She then pulls out a package of gum and pops a single piece into her mouth.

As she does this, CHIYO, HARUNA, and KANON WATANABE approach the stage, with CHIYO leading the group. They're carrying a mix of pipes and bats. Emi straightens up as they approach and crosses her arms.

EMI:

It's about time! Ugh, seriously, if you're gonna call me out, can you at least, like, try to be on time?

(Neither of the three confronting EMI respond. EMI shifts her position again, before staring over the group and making eye contact with Kanon. Kanon's gaze slides toward the ground.)

EMI:

Kanon, what do you even think you're doing here, anyways?

CHIYO:

What, you're going to play dumb about it, Kashiwara? She's here because of you.

HARUNA:

Actually, we're all kinda here because of you, technically. You hadn't been around much lately. The girls were getting worried.

CHIYO:

Imagine how surprised we were when Watanabe said you'd gotten called up by a modeling agency. And that you were thinking of ditching us so you could go dress up in bikinis all day.

(There is a pause before she continues.)

We were kind of surprised, you know. Considering you beat the life out of Murakami for even thinking about doing the same thing.

EMI:

(uncomfortably) Yeah, well, things changed?

CHIYO:

(with a sneer) Apparently they did, 'cause you were real serious about that back then. Serious enough that even though you and Murakami were friends, you still took the first chance she gave you to kick her out. Serious enough that you talked Murakami's own girlfriend into helping you beat the snot out of her! Ain't that right, Kanon?

(KANON does not respond when she's addressed.)

CHIYO:

(her voice returns to normal levels) But now you're getting cold feet on us. What did you think was going to happen if we found out you wanted to leave? We'd have to do to you what you did to Murakami. Even Kanon agrees with us.

HARUNA:

Come on, boss. There's no reason it has to be this way. If you give up on this whole thing, we can forget this ever happened. Why don't we meet up with the girls and go mess up the guys on the south side of town just for kicks? You always did hate them.

(EMI scowls at the two, but she takes a step back toward the wall, putting her back against it. KANON's head rises from the floor, and she makes eye contact with EMI.

EMI lowers her head, and then her body begins to shake with a chuckle, before breaking into a full on cackle.)

EMI:

(with a lilt of amusement in her voice) Are you actually serious?! Of course I'm leaving! What, do you think we could keep doing all of this forever? Beating up anyone who looks at us funny, ducking around police cars all the time, getting high every night we get the chance?

(HARUNA takes a step forward, only for CHIYO to hold a hand out and stop her.)

EMI:

(She slaps her chest with her hand.)

Maybe you girls can do this forever, but I'm growing up! I'm not gonna stay here and run away from my problems forever. I have a life now! Murakami was right when she ditched, and we're all stupid for not listening to her to begin with. You all can have fun all you want getting high and getting picked up by the cops, but I'm done.

CHIYO:

(coldly) I'm sorry to hear that. Guess we're going to have to do this the hard way.

EMI:

(with a sneer) Yeah, I guess we are.

(CHIYO, HARUNA, and KANON raise their weapons. The second HARUNA moves toward EMI, KANON swings her bat at HARUNA's head, and HARUNA drops to the ground. CHIYO swings her head around, and EMI redirects her bat before swinging her knee into CHIYO'S stomach, and then kicking her to the ground too.

EMI crouches beside CHIYO and grabs her by the hair, tugging her face up to look at EMI's. KANON steps around the fallen to stand by EMI's side.)

EMI:

(with a satisfied, antagonistic grin) Are you a bunch of idiots? Did you really think I didn't know what you were up to when you called me out here? I wrote the fucking book! And you fell for it, just like Murakami did! Why did you think Kanon even agreed to help you? I mean, God, we've been friends forever!

CHIYO:

You...

EMI:

Hey, I want you and Haruna to give all the girls back home a message for me, okay? Me and Kanon, we're never coming back. We're done. And if you all know what's good for you, you'll leave us alone. Okay? Okay.

(EMI drops CHIYO's head and straightens up. She gives her a well aimed kick into her ribcage before stepping away, KANON following.)

EMI:

Come on, Kanon, let's blow this joint.

(CHIYO suddenly raises her head and points her finger at KANON.)

CHIYO:

You think you can get away with this, Watanabe?! You and Kashiwara can't run away from us forever! The next time we see you, you're dead meat!

(KANON suddenly whirls toward CHIYO and swings her pipe at her. CHIYO recoils, pulling her hand back.)

KANON:

If you come anywhere near us, I'll kill you.

(She walks away from the fallen girls, catching back up with EMI.)

EMI:

Come on, let's go. I've got a photoshoot tonight, and the last thing I want to do is mess my makeup up any worse than it already is.

KANON:

Coming.

EMI:

(as they leave) Oh, right, do you, like, want the last of my cigarettes? My agent says I'm not allowed to smoke anymore...

(EMI and KANON exit. The lights on the stage begin to dim to a cool red, and then get darker. As the lights dim, the sound of CHIYO sobbing can be heard faintly from the stage.)

(BLACKOUT)

(END OF SCENE)

#writing #play #script #cawfulwriting #nora shank #sukeban

16 notes · View notes

savage-rhi · 6 years

Text

First 20 Pages of Ravage

@msaruetar

@dontunderestimatemypoison

//Tagging you guys because you showed interest. I would like some feedback if you got the time! For anyone else, this is the first section or two of my novel on Rhi and her world I’ve been working on. I’m finally getting close to getting the manuscript done then have to go through editing. If you got any tips or feedback yourself, let me know! I will appreciate constrictive feedback!

Story is below the line

RAVAGE CITY

THE POISON APPLE

9:30PM

The neon colors of Ravage City illuminated the fixers red green eyes. Wild abandon had hit the citizens as nightfall sparked to life. It was time to party. A time to give into primal desires. Fucking, drinking, dancing, all of it could be done with no qualms. For Rhi, this was a time to hunt, and she had her gaze on a target.

Rhi found the hotshot heading towards The Poison Apple--a stripper and sex joint that catered to high fantasy with gene junkies. Rhi snorted with a low growl when her target disappeared into the confines of the red light establishment. There was no way in hell she was going to waste her time going in there to look for her mark. Not with the headache that was pounding the side of her head like a drummer banging with wild abandon

A migraine didn’t compare to the pressure splitting numbness that built up in her nasal cavity and frontal lobe. She felt like her face had been socked in by a pro wrestler thirty times over. At this point, Rhi wished some idiot would come up and do just that, deck her hard so she wouldn’t have to deal with the irritation of her nose being set on fire from the putrid musks that filled the crisp night air. Her olfactory zone was overstimulated from the scents of humans around her. Tar and bile, candy and oil, artificial strawberry and lemon zest all permeated from the the sweat of people that passed her by. Like a trained bloodhound, Rhi could pinpoint anyone as long as she had their smell. In a large group however, she tended to get overwhelmed. That’s precisely why she didn’t find her target Flint Jasper until now, the bastard caught onto that weakness of hers earlier in the week as she spied on him.

While waiting for Flint to come out, Rhi mentally went through her assignment. First Casey Moniker, a crime boss, had contracted her to go after Flint on suspicion of embezzlement. Second, she needed capture the thief and bring him to Casey. Third, if Flint tried anything Rhi was allowed to take matters into her own hands. Granted that meant getting her bounty fee cut in half considering Casey wanted Flint alive. Before she could continue further, Rhi grimaced upon catching a whiff of expired milk and jelly emitting from a woman that bumped into her during a drunken haze. Rhi forcibly pushed the intoxicated gal away, earning a fit of laughs as the scantily clad female swayed off.

Why do people have to stink so fucking bad? Rhi thought to herself after taking out a Crime Wave cigarette, shoving it into her mouth and quickly lit it up while waiting for her target to leave the establishment. Probably getting his dick wet with cunny juice. Who could blame Flint? Sex was good. The ladies and men that worked in The Poison Apple were sexy for gene junkies to boot.

The aroma of peach and weed musk filled her taste buds with a fervor. Nothing could ever beat the natural taste and smell of Crime Waves. Best of all Rhi couldn’t get high from them. The marijuana however allowed her to tune out most smells. Rhi could feel a pleasant hum floating in her nose now, the marijuana in the product saiting her olfactory zone for the time being. It was a terrible habit of hers, smoking. Rhi didn’t care. It helped her fit in with the local nightlife and spared her a couple hours of smelling genetic defaults in human sweat. Once upon a time when she didn’t have Crime Wave cigarettes to tame her senses, Rhi would get so fed up with the smells she’d end up killing the people that stood out the most in the crowd. Now that she learned to adapt to human society, Rhi realized that was a big no no to kill on the spot. Well, unless she was having a treat yourself day.

Inhaling for a final time, Rhi allowed the smoke to snake through her nostrils as she exhaled then put the rest of the cigarette out. She took a moment to gauge in her surroundings. There were hologram commercials playing on every corner, with the same stout middle aged man in everyone but with different attire from glittered out tuxedos to wearing nothing but a cowboy hat or doing an impersonation of Prince. Pop up Wheezy was the name of the actor. DNA havoc! Ravage’s favorite alcoholic beverage! Try out the new doberman flavor! Exotic and raw! Straight to your tongue! The Vipers Den has everything! Sex, drinks, 80s music, and personal rooms to cater to whatever devious shit your little heart can think of! Book a conference room now! You win some you lose some, but you’ll always be welcome at Drongos. Ravage’s finest watering hole! Let us cater to you! Rhi wasn’t sure which was more annoying: Pop up Wheezy, or humans in general. Both probably.

A couple passed by Rhi as she watched The Poison Apple doors like a hawk. Rhi caught the actions of the two for a brief moment out of curiosity. Their eyes were a mess of blues, reds, and greens. Eye coloration like that was usually a dead giveaway that said person was a gene junkie. It was quite common on the streets of Ravage to encounter people who have dabbled with animal genes. Using high powered chemical cocktails to enhance one’s physicality via the traits of other organisms. It became an overnight sensation in the black market, genie, once upon a time, but had the worst side effects.

Their laughter got under Rhi’s skin. Especially the male who doused himself up with a genie cocktail of cat and frog DNA. He had bulbous eyes like a frog but the fleshy orbs had that signature cat slit as the pupil. His feline features, the whiskers and button nose, were enhanced by his laughter, though he couldn’t help but make a ribbiting sound in his throat as the flesh would bob in time. The female, whom Rhi assumed might have been a girlfriend or fuck buddy, had canine DNA. She had two big floppy ears, a saggy face, and a semi snout. To Rhi she looked more like a baboon than a dog. Rhi assumed the female was a newbie to the drug scene, from her jittery behavior and single genie dose. More experienced genie users loved to mix and match animal genetics to obtain unique attributes. The young twenty something nearly barked when her gentleman caller tried his luck at tickling her. Like a rabid dog, she bit him hard and thrashed around like she was tearing up a newspaper. He let out a harsh meow, but laughed it off. His first three fingers on the left hand were dangling by a tendon, blood pooling slowly around him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

To be young, dumb, and fucking stupid.

The two swayed, bumping into one another like a couple of drunk high school lovers, shushing each other as if their parents were going to find out they were wasted from a prom party. Rhi turned to face them fully for a moment. They were annoying, but she couldn’t help letting out a chuckle at their antics, especially once their temporary tails poked out of their pants started feeling one another up. It made Rhi envious. She hadn’t been able to get out of her meatsuit in a month. Her own tail was chafing for all she fucking knew. Rhi could almost feel it trying to break out of her flesh prison.

Rhi’s attention went back on the establishment. Now that the Crime Wave smoke filled her nose, it helped her tune everyone’s scent out minus her target, which she was able to give her undivided attention. She thought back to how he smelled. His sweat was a combination of tar and peanut oil, greasy and bitter. Rhi allowed that scent to flow back into her skull, almost to the point where she could taste it with every deep breath. Clicks and deep guttural growls escaped her throat as she tasted the air for her mark. Her nostrils flared, flexing like a cocaine users after taking a hit. There was no chance in hell Flint was going to be able to escape her. Not tonight.

Her red-green eyes widened. Rhi’s pupils went from dark abyssal orbs to reptilian slits as the blue neon lights across the street lit up. Rhi blinked a few times to adjust to the new lighting, then noticed her target was moving out of the stripper joint and heading down main street.

Pfft. Didn’t take long. Twenty minutes tops. Flint must be ‘fun’ at parties if he couldn’t last an hour in there. Before pursuing her hunt further, Rhi took another deep inhale through her nose. Nope. Her guy didn’t get lucky tonight. There was no smell of sex lingering off the poor bastard. She almost felt sorry for the poor fella. Almost.

Rhi observed Flint Jasper duck for cover into the farmers market. The smell of rancid dog shit hit Flint like a pound of bricks and he brought up a part of his tattered t-shirt to cover his nose. Rhi could tell the barking was intense for him, and he looked like he wanted to throw up whatever contents he possibly drank at The Poison Apple. Rhi had the impression Flint purposefully came here assuming the smells from the canines approaching the slaughter houses would throw her off.

Casually, Rhi took notice Flint would observe the food auctions going off. People buying the canines for meat resources. Flint jumped as a large doberman breed being shot between the eyes with a needle gun, stunning the animal while the butcher went to work cutting and separating the meat out to their customers. Rhi recalled overhearing Flint mention at The Vipers Den that he had eaten dog, but could never bring himself to butcher them. Flint was a rare type of man in this day and age. He didn’t like to get personally acquainted with his food. Rhi on the other hand, was quite the opposite.

Rhi could remember when she first encountered Flint at The Vipers Den when Casey first contracted her. She tried not to appear intimidating. Not on direct sight. Rhi flaunted her haughty nature, and bragged about how she was one of the best fixers in Ravage. A person whom made arrangements for people especially of a devious nature. It was much like bounty hunting, but with style. She could tell Flint was taken aback by the statement given that she was playful and a little too cocky. Even by first appearances, one wouldn’t think Rhi would be involved with some of the darker aspects of Ravage but here she was, talking to Flint like they were old school chums.

Her and Flint had hit it off well. She could tell he had a thing for her eyes. He even went as far as to compliment Rhi that her eyes reminded him of the rare emerald gemstone. She had him charmed like a snake. Upon seeing the red in her green hues, Rhi could tell Flint was thrown off and grew more cautious around her. Though he did compliment the scar under her eye. It was crescent shaped but flipped with the bowl of it turning up, meeting directly with those piercing orbs of hers. He said it was pretty, then quickly bolted once he put two and two together that perhaps Casey hired her and she wasn’t really into him. Rhi had a feeling too Flint got the vibes that she wasn’t a run of the mill gene junkie. Even with some of her animalistic attributes, there was something off about her compared to them.

Rhi could see Flint visibly swallow nervously after doing a quick scan of the farmers market and adjusted his shirt accordingly as he moved out of the area and away from the putrid dog shit. Flint was an idiot for assuming Rhi would never be able to get him. Besides for having a rep, Rhi knew people. Knew how to get the right connections to find her targets. He was impeccably stupid compared to other targets Rhi had taken down in the past. Most people that knew Rhi had a bounty on them would go to her at this point, saving themselves the trouble of being hunted down. They’d either try to kill her themselves or would make a plea bargain. Rhi loved it when people owed her favors. That’s why she was quick to take up those offers and half a bounty fee instead of the whole. Flint was running away like a coward, thinking he could outsmart her just because he got a tip about her sense of smell and how her head could get overstimulated from scents. She had to give him credit, at least he tried.

Rhi was so close to Flint now, she could practically taste his flesh.

“Hey tuna melt.” Flint froze, turning around after he felt hot breath creep against his hair and neck. Rhi’s voice penetrated his eardrums, and his heart thudded deeply in his chest. He was scared out of his wits that Rhi could almost clap in time with the sound his pulse was making. Like a deer in the headlights, Flint was locked in place, ready to meet the headlights of the vehicle. His skin was littered with goosebumps as he tried to hide a nervous swallow. That got Rhi to chuckle as she came around to talk to him face to face.

“You wouldn’t be trying to run away from me now, would you Flint?” Her tone was mocking, albeit playful in nature. Rhi was toying with him and enjoying it thoroughly.

“N-no. Nothing like that!” Flint managed to choke out, trying to sound normal. “People know better than to run away from you, Rhi. Look--I was in a hurry. A lot of errands to run, you know, for the boss. I need to be getting back to Casey. You know how he gets about people being late. I mean--he’s hired you before.”

Rhi raised a brow. Looking over Flint like a parent would after catching said child in a lie. Playing dumb. Most targets of hers pulled this shit. It got old real fast.

Sighing, Rhi shook her head scratching the side of her cheek and smiled wide. Flint noticed how unnatural her lips looked. Almost like her mouth wanted to expand, grow larger, but restrained itself. Like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Meeting her red green eyes didn’t help the fear that was creeping up in his spine. Flint wanted to shit himself. His body was bracing itself for a fight or flight response. His eyes widened as he noticed one of Rhi’s sharp shark like teeth poking out.

“Look Flint, I don’t know you too well even after during our little swaray at The Vipers Den. You seem like a nice bloke, but you pissed off a very powerful guy. You done fucking goofed, asshole. So don’t lie to me. Casey wants you dead for your little side business embezzling money from his personal account, but I’m going to give you a couple options to get out of this mess because--” Rhi was cut dangerously short as Flint in a moment of weakness and terror, pulled out a handgun and fired.

Flashes of light and the piercing sound of machinery went to work, the guns gears clicked rapidly with the slick sound of flesh being pierced echoed throughout the marketplace. Rhi’s blood flew all over in a spectacular splash of different shades of red, her body flailed as it followed the impact of each bullet that hit her skin. The customers and owners of the dog farms moved out of the way, some screaming, others not caring in the slightest. It was another night in Ravage after all.

After Flint had made his move and bolted from the scene, the smell of the gunpowder began to recede and the strong stench of blood began to emit in their air. Everyone went back to business leaving Rhi’s body to whatever wanted to scavenge her corpse.

Rhi breathed heavily after five minutes of stillness. As she felt air fill her lungs, Rhi sounded like a feral beast catching a first wind after running. A gal smoking nearby watched, taken aback as the cigar she was chewing the butt end of fell from her chapped lips and toppled on the ground. The young twenty somethings eyes held a petrified look to them as Rhi slowly stood up. She was bathed in several streams of blood that stained the white over shirt she wore, seeping into the black t-shirt underneath the soft fabric.

“Mother fucker—” She gasped as a worn out series of chuckles began to escape from her mouth. These didn’t sound like the carefree childlike ones she had been displaying earlier. These were more sinister. And as the slick muscle of her tongue darted out, revealing it to be a dark blue color and gently swiped at her own fluids that painted her face, she vowed that Flint was going to regret putting a bullet in her hide.

Getting up, Rhi patted herself down, wincing occasionally from the bullets bee like sting. Her eyes glanced up at the woman who was still gawking. Smiling and giving an inhuman chuckle, Rhi shrugged her shoulders and gave the woman her full attention.

“You heard me right? I said I was gonna give him some options! Can you tell me where my shooter ran off too?”

Rhi had never seen a human pass out so quick.

“Well, fuck you too mate.”

RAVAGE CITY

THE ABANDONED AIRPORT

10:00PM

Flint’s right leg gave out on him after he hit one of the light poles. His running became more weak over time. He pressed himself to keep going, to get out of the area. He had pumped twelve bullets into Rhi’s body. She wasn’t going to be his problem any longer unless, but the repercussions for killing someone with notoriety was well on his mind. There were people in power that would be pissed off to hear a fixer such as Rhi went six feet under considering she was one of the best at taking care of people’s personal problems. In retaliation and in honor of the fallen, those in power could send out lackeys to pick off whoever did it. Flint had to get out of here. Had to get out of Ravage, and maybe migrate to one of the other thirteen tribal cities. Carnivora sounded good. The violence and crime wasn’t a high point compared to Ravage. It meant he would never have to deal with embezzling scandals ever again.

He tried to calm his erratic breathing. His pulse had skyrocketed. Flint covered his own mouth to get his body to chill and took refuge in an alley. Now came the hardest part of this whole ordeal: waiting. Waiting for his body to calm down before moving on. Flint was near what was once an old airport. He could see one of the hundred year old planes in the distance now a decaying relic of the past with rust and vegetation growing from it. Planes hadn’t been used since the early 2100’s in Australia, not since the Resource Wars. The place was incredibly silent. Flint could only hear his own heartbeat, the warm air flowing from his nose and the semi humid Australian air that breezed by.

He had tears in his eyes now. This was not how he wanted to go. Flint had dreamed of getting out of Ravage for a long time, and he thought stealing money from crime lord Casey would help him get out fast. He didn’t want to be in Ravage too once he found out the plans for city some folks had in mind. Flint slid down against the alley wall, hitting his head on the brick a couple of times. He felt stupid for believing that he could outsmart someone like Rhi or Casey, that no one would catch onto the embezzlements.

Flint remained in place for five minutes as he collected his thoughts. It felt like hours as his pulse ticked by like the hands of a clock on its last limbs. Somehow through the fog of adrenaline and anxiety he forced himself to look around the corner of the garbage bin. His dark eyes roved the area, not seeing anyone or anything. He quietly brought his head back.

Red green eyes stared at him mere inches away. Close enough he could see their reptilian slits Those hadn’t been there before. Flint felt several pops in his face that had a similar sensation to being bitten by a swarm of hornets; warm breath hitting his face like a steam bath and his vision disappeared in a wave of sickle sharp teeth and a blue tongue with its own set of miniature knives. He screamed loudly into the unhinged mouth of Rhi as she ravaged and skinned his face off with her mouth. She shook her head back and forth, sounding like a dog chewing up a toy. Warm blood hit her skin and Flints screams became deeper and echoed down her throat. She’d pull away after growing tired of using Flint as her personal pacifier, the skin of his face caught on the bottom section of her teeth as she could see the porcelain glow of his skull underneath delicate layers of muscle. She swallowed the last bits of his face. Flint was still screaming, his eyes now so big and bulbous without skin covering them that for a moment it made Rhi uneasy, recalling a zombie in an old 80s flick that looked like poor Flint in this sorry state. It didn’t stop Rhi from grabbing Flint by the head and bashing his skull into the brick wall behind him. It was like a bowling ball dropping on a watermelon. Bits of brain and bone flew in every direction before the body slumped over. Flint was no more.

Deep growls left Rhi’s throat as she collected herself. Her face was twisted in a glare that wouldn’t go away as she got up and decided to walk off her high. She stopped herself short feeling the sting from the bullets beginning to make their strike yet again. She leaned against a giant light pole nearby, her eyes closing while she focused on the sounds of the city. The various screeches from cars being stopped at the last second, the piercing sound of an angry group getting ready to fight, the voice of the warm summer rain hitting the ground, even the smells in the air had their broken promises and endless bounty. She could easily fall asleep right now.

Rhi took in a deep breath and another. Several bystanders appeared, exiting out of some night clubs and other establishments. Rhi composed herself and began to walk back towards Flints carcass.

“This is the worst walk of shame I’ve taken since I tapped that drag queen last spring,” She muttered to herself. Such fuck ups in life made her laugh. It made it easier to get through the day. Rhi didn’t care for the outcome of this job.

Contrary to popular belief, the fixer didn’t like killing unless she had to. Unless she was hungry. Something she was reminded of when she came across the violent aftermath of her glorious display of power. Petrichor and the metallic scent of Flints blood intermingled in a lovely dose of a natural perfume. She devoured it like candy. Rhi didn’t want to kill him, didn’t intend to but he made his choice. Technically he’d done her a favor: One, she didn’t have to give him a backdoor out of Casey’s possible death penalty. Two, she got to sate her animal needs that had been neglected for a while.

Rhi licked her chops before her mouth receded back. No longer was it that huge snake like gape, but now she carried about her regular appearance. No big ass Cheshire Cat like mouth could be seen, and no sharp teeth either. She stepped through the oozing tar pit of blood, guts and skin to come across Flints wallet lying beside him. She pick pocketed then started shoving some of the brain matter and bone bits into her mouth. Rhi sat down and picked up bone and tissue like crumbs off a pizza. Her lips smacked in pleasure as she treated herself before having to haul the body.

“Jesus fuck. Flints mom should have been shot when she found out she was gonna give birth to this cunt…” Cursing was her personal therapy when she got shot.

Rhi was beginning to head out with Flints corpse dangling from her left shoulder like a stereotypical caveman carrying a woman to his den, when she felt the vibration of her phone below her knee in a pocket of her cargo pants. She sighed, feeling like perhaps maybe there was some deity out there that just wanted to see her bend over and burn from her wounds. Rhi reached for the cell phone in her pocket. She dumped the corpse down beside her feet while she took the call.

“Yorgi! You grade A cunt, how’s it going?” She tried to put on her most cheerful voice to keep her associate from picking up on her not sounding well.

“Hey Rhi we need to talk about the--”

“Look mate we can spit in the wind later I’m in the middle of tagging my mark.”

“But Rhi I need to--”

“Yorgi I love you, but piss off mate.”

While hearing her associate chat it up on the other end, there were more folks coming into the area, taking the party scene with them. As when Rhi got shot, no one really cared about seeing a corpse by her feet. A body could be lying on the street and no one would bat an eyelash until it rot. Such was Ravage life. A couple people had some perplexed looks when they saw Flints body next to Rhi. She knew she needed to get out of there before anyone got too curious for their own good. After being able to hunt and feed after such a long while, Rhi would love more than anything to tally up the body count. She needed to tend to her wounds instead.

“Yorgi I’m gonna have to call you back. I’m about to get some fast food and head home. Anyway if you bump into Casey, let him know I took care of Flint. We came to a mutual understanding on the embezzlement case.”

With that she hung up putting the phone back into her pocket, bent down and swung her prize carcass over her shoulder and began to head back home whistling an 80s tune she couldn’t remember the name of.

RAVAGE CITY

THE FIVE POINT FLATS

11:30PM

The clatter from the flats elevator came to a halt when Yorgi arrived at his and Rhi’s pad. A large yawn escaped his mouth as he scratched the dark stubble on his face with two cybernetic fingers. One was getting rusty after the first month. The cheap metal was wearing thin. His back shivered, still not use to the cold his new limbs emitted before he pushed the elevator door up and out of the way. Home sweet home, he thought to himself. Yorgi paused for a moment to observe his and Rhi’s flat. 80s memorabilia such as posters littered the walls. Intricate tapestries hung from the ceiling. Ten of their fans were spinning at a snail's pace, doing little to get rid of the humidity. The flats deck area was covered in lights, some were blinking rapidly while on their last limbs. Pillows and shirts were littered on the living room floor nearby the L couch. He could smell Rhi’s scent which was like peaches and cream permeating from that area. Yorgi needed to remind Rhi that her nests needed to be picked up after she was done phasing. He’d wait until tomorrow to fight with her on that. He was exhausted. Besides earning his fixer bounties for the night, he had been trying to track down Rhi. He was still mildly irritated at how she had hung up on him earlier. He then proceeded to the kitchen to get a much needed drink.

Yorgi kicked off his boots near the fridge and rubbed the sweat off his face with both his palms. Yorgi stopped midway after taking a big inhale. Something smelled god awful coming from their secondary living room. It was a rancid flavor. He followed the trail, inhaling occasionally before he found the source, a corpse on the couch, and nearly leapt like a gazelle evading a lion’s frontal attack. Panting heavily, Yorgi observed Rhi watching television. 80s and 90s esque shopping commercials played on the Nostal-Channel. Her four fingers dipped into Flint’s carcass, pulling up intestines and god knows what else like it was a bag of popcorn and munched on the organs contently.

“Crikey!” Yorgi breathed out loud.

Rhi’s nostrils flared when she picked up on Yorgi’s scent, smoke and whiskey, and she turned her head to face a highly irritated associate. His arms were crossed, looking down at her like a parent catching their child sneaking back into the house after they had been on a drunken rave binge with friends. She smiled big then grinned to show off those sickle teeth, stained with blood.

“Hey buddy!” She exclaimed.

“You got shot. You’re bleeding into the couch. You fucking suicidal imbecile!”

“How observant of you.”

Yorgi sighed and face palmed, rolling his eyes as his head shook.

“Rhi, you said you were off getting fast food.”

Rhi looked down at Flint’s carcass that was sitting beside her on the couch as if she were having a movie date night. The arms were even resting at the top of the black furniture like so. Not batting an eyelash, Rhi once more dipped her hand into Flints stomach and pulled out an organ and plopped it into her mouth. As she munched, Rhi gave an innocent shrug to Yorgi’s remark then looked him dead in the eye as she chuckled.

“Well he ran, didn’t he?”

She wasn’t expecting Yorgi to backhand her upside the head that quick.

RAVAGE CITY

THE FIVE POINT FLATS

12:15AM

“That looks bad Rhi.” Yorgi murmured as he sat in on one of the stools nearby, his dark brows furrowing tightly as he observed how deep the bullet wounds traveled. In the bright lighting and with her shirt off, the injuries looked more grotesque. It didn’t bother Rhi as she took a pair of tweezers and sunk it into one of the fleshy pockets. The gurgling sounds from metal meeting squishy flesh bothered her ears as she winced, digging around for the bullet before clamping down and ripping the bullet out. To Rhi, this was the equivalent of ripping a botfly maggot from the skin. Bullets behaved a lot like them, wanting to burrow further and greatly resisted being pried at.

“It could have been worse. I’m getting better at pushing them out. Gotta give me some credit there.”

“Last month you could handle up to five bullets after shooting yourself.”

“You got a point to that?”

“My point being is you took twelve hits!” Yorgi gestured with his hands, counting the amount on his fingers, exaggerating some but nonetheless was trying to get his point across to her. “Twelve my friend, twelve! Twelve shots tonight you crazy bitch!”

“I could use twelve shots of another kind after this if you catch my drift--”

“No, no drinks for you after tonight.” Yorgi interrupted.

Rhi couldn’t help but smile, trying to suppress a laugh as she went to work digging another metal seed out. Yorgi was right about one thing, even though he didn’t outright say it. She needed to take it easy when it came to testing her body’s limits. Then again Rhi wasn’t one to hold back when it came to pushing past the envelope, even if it ended up killing her in the process. If she could push science past the edge of no return, then surely there was a way for her to expand on her meat suit.

“You sound like my ex when you worry.” Rhi said.

“Well if your ex was alive, I’m sure he’d have a heart attack knowing the freaky shit you dab in.”

Rhi smiled again as she ripped another bullet out and placed it into a tray nearby with a solution at the bottom that would eat away any traces of her blood. Sighing, she took a moment to wipe off the sweat that had been trickling down her face with the backside of her palm.

She decided to change subjects while the ball was in her court otherwise she wouldn’t hear the end of his lecturing about self care. “I’m going to need a clean up crew at the site where I killed Flint.”

Yorgi rubbed at the fine black hairs on his chin. His eyes held a sadness in them. Yorgi knew what she was doing, once more trying to push him away. Even though Rhi had a hard ass nature, he had the feeling she often downplayed her personal bullshit, getting shot or otherwise, so others wouldn’t worry too much about her wellbeing. Or it could have been her animal nature telling her not to appear wounded for fear of being challenged.

“You’re perfectly capable of ripping apart a human body, you’re perfectly capable of handling the cleanup by yourself. Not to mention you could have licked the place clean.”

Yorgi snorted as Rhi looked at him via the rustic cheval mirror she was using to help see her body in the bathroom.

“True I could take care of the mess, but given half the women Flint slept with I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch an STD and die tonight after eating most of him. I might be too sick to clean up. Besides you wouldn’t send poor little me out there after I got shot up, would you?”

The quietness of the room was interrupted by Yorgi’s booming laugh. Despite not knowing much about Flint, it was well known in Ravage he was a bit of a man whore. Rhi could attest to that given how he had come onto her at The Vipers Den.

“Poor little you? Don’t make me laugh. It’s funny how Flint had a penchant for fucking women according to Casey. Didn’t think the poor bloke had it in him. I thought for sure Flint was under the belief to never trust something that bleeds for days and doesn’t die. Much like yourself.”

“The period joke is a little juvenile, don’t you think Yorgi?”

“Hm..you’re right I need to work on that. Considering you don’t go through what most females endure.”

They both snorted, then went back to enjoying a few moments of silence. The two knew as soon as Rhi would haul the last of the bullets from her body the serious talk would begin. They’d have to be quick and on the clock to get their shit done. As Yorgi let out a puff of air, he nearly regretted going out for the night to take care of his own marks. Then again he wasn’t expecting Rhi’s meet up with Flint to end this bad.

Once the final bullet had been snatched, Rhi fell back into the chair in full. Letting out soothing breaths. Her chest would slowly rise and fall almost to the point where she could easily fall asleep. There was still work to be done in the young night, and her red green eyes shot open and she adjusted in the chair accordingly to face her associate.

The three large claw scars on the left side of her chest illuminated more under the light after she moved, and Yorgi’s throat bobbed as he briefly gazed upon her breast area at the patches of rough pink skin. Even after all this time they had known each other, he felt intimidated by her body . He found it honoring and scary he could sit in the same room with her at times and hold a conversation like two old school buddies, especially when Yorgi knew what Rhi was. Truly was.

“Let’s get something straight, I would have cleaned up the scene, but I got sidetracked.” Rhi began, giving a brief pause as she locked eyes with Yorgi, making sure he was listening in full. “Flint was involved with Dingo Snake Exy.”

The raised brows and the “o” shape at Yorgi’s mouth showed his shock. Nine times out of ten, if Yorgi thought something was up shits creek his face would contort into a variety of obscene features.

“You being serious?” He asked.

“As serious as I am about purposefully letting Flint shoot me up so I could get a few days off from this fucking job.”

“Wait, so you allowed yourself to get shot just so you could take a fucking day off?”

“Duh.”

Rhi smiled and winked much to Yorgi’s chagrin. “Anyway…what makes you think Flint had it in with the ‘mother nature’ cult?” Yorgi asked.

“On the way back home I dug through Flint’s wallet. He had some sticky notes cramped up where his money should have been. Apparently he was helping Dingo Snake Exy smuggle in GMOs. Fifteen specimens were promptly delivered to them.” Rhi said.

“Flint never gave the impression he was a smuggler.”

“You learn something new everyday about humans,” Rhi paused and continued. “The only place anyone can get GMO’s is from Carnivora, but their security is so tight I don’t see how a guy like Flint could get in, much less persuade someone to let him leave the city with any modified creature. I remember when we had to smuggle GMOs it was a pain in the ass. We barely made it through. Hell we don’t take those gigs anymore, but how did he do it?”

Yorgi sighed. “There’s always Rikers Enterprises. They’re within our borders. God knows what kind of stuff they are up to in there when it comes to genetic engineering.”

Rhi had to agree with her associate, except there was something that didn’t set right with her. Rikers was a secretive company within Ravage. They worked on biological enhancements to help save humanity from the impending doom of global warming and resources near run dry. The company was founded in 2112 around the time the Australian civil war subsided and worked on creating genetically modified animals that could adapt to an earth that lacked clean air, water, and other valuable natural resources. After a number of years Rikers tanked, money ran dry, but they still continued to produce product and work with the other tribal cities in the area to de-extinct plants, clone dogs and cats for the farmers markets since bovines were permanently extinct, and the like. Rikers was a humble company. They kept to themselves, provided resources for citizens in Ravage and the other tribal cities, and people left them alone.

So after all this time of keeping a low profile, why the hell would they be involved with Dingo Snake Exy? If Flint wasn’t smuggling from Carnivora, Ravage’s sister city, then what business did he have taking from Rikers Enterprises?

Rhi was in deep thought. She hadn’t said a word in a while. She contemplated about her possible connection to Rikers. Given that Rhi wasn’t human, not in the slightest, it was assumed the company had something to do with it.

“So what are we going to do?” Yorgi asked.

“First, I want you to take care of the cleanup for me while I recover. Then I want you to do me a solid and go to The Poison Apple where I caught Flint poking around. See if he talked to anyone from Dingo Snake Exy or otherwise. It’s not our place to get involved with the cults business unless they pay us, but I gotta figure out how the hell a cockroach like Flint was able to get his hands on GMOs.”

“Why the urgency?” Yorgi asked.

“Yorgi, think about it. The last time we had a job smuggling GMOs we nearly got our asses handed over. If we didn’t have enough money bragging the cops to get off our butts we would have been executed given how valuable the assets were that we stole for Richfield Rex. Figuring out how Flint pulled it off would be a business opportunity for us.” Rhi’s enthusiasm leaked in her words.

“You got a point Reese.” Yorgi smirked. He liked the direction she was going. There was more money to be made in smuggling GMOs than taking care of people’s personal problems in the fixing world. Rhi and him needed a new scene.

For now, Rhi needed to rest. Maybe have a few drinks before taking a dive into the covers of a warm bed. She couldn’t do much when she had taken quite the punch.

Yorgi sighed and got up from the stool, looking down upon her as he mentally prepared himself for the long night of work ahead. Cleaning up murder scenes was his forte. He had seen brutal shit, but there was something unsettling whenever he had to take care of Rhi’s killing sprees. Which is why most of the time she took it upon herself to do his job for him cause most cases were so ghastly, he’d end up hurling.

“Before I go I got a call from your pal BWM. He was wondering if you’d help him out on an assignment in the Ruin District. Said he’s willing to make a cut with you, yeah?”

The tired, almost glossy look in Rhi’s eyes were subdued by intrigue as her orbs widened subtly. She seemed to perk up rather quick.

“Did he mention what kind of assignment it was?”

Yorgi shook his head. “He said he’d give the details to you personally either by phone or in person. You know how eccentric the mother fucker is.” He smirked. “But since you’re hurt and now on a temporary vacation I guess I could take the job in your stead and—“

“Nah I’m good. I’ll call him first thing tomorrow.” Rhi said.

Yorgi had an exasperated look on his features as he groaned.

“You went through all that trouble getting your ass nearly blown up just so you could have a few days to yourself, now you’re suddenly feeling better to go help BWM?”

Rhi smirked, shrugging as she closed her eyes again. This time letting the gentle coax of sleep take her momentarily.

“Hey, I need money still since I lost out on the fifty grand killing Flint in a rage. It was worth it to me at the time, but I know Casey wanted to do it himself. He’s not going to happy with the results. And more money equals food and paying off cops.”

Yorgi couldn’t argue with that. He swallowed roughly. Trying to keep it subtle but Rhi knew this part of the clean up job when it came to her dealings always bothered him to one degree or another. It was a fact of life, and considering what the woman was, this was only natural.

“Do you want the remains of Flint on the couch rare, medium, or well done?”

She could almost smell the flesh again upon hearing Yorgi’s words. Her long dark blue tongue darted out slowly from her mouth like a snake exiting its den as she licked her chops. Her eyes half open as she looked over at Yorgi with a carnal smile.

“Just put them my freezer when you’re done. G’night Bushy Baba. Owch!”

Strike two for Yorgi backhanding her.

“You know I don’t like you using my old stripper name.”

Rubbing her head, Rhi smirked. “Why, is it giving you an existential crisis?”

“Nah, just further proving my point that nothing matters in the world. At the end of the day we’re all lousy strippers. Trying to put our bodies out there for someone to take interest intermingling their genes with ours so we live on somehow. Life is about fucking and getting fucked over.”

“If nothing matters then why did you care about me calling you Bushy?” Rhi countered.

“I--well--” Yorgi was at a loss for words on his hypocrisy.

Rhi shrugged not knowing anything clever to say. She always felt put on a spot when it came to Yorgi having one of his nihilistic rants. Most people in Ravage had a passive aggressive approach to nihilism much like Yorgi. It was the staple diet for people’s minds in the day and age and fit well with their Roman empire culture where everyone knew society was collapsing, so they drank, fucked, and were merry until it was over. Rhi could wrap her head around it to a degree, but like a child, she was still learning the mechanics, the deeper meanings.

“Hey Yorgi,”

“Yeah?”

Rhi figured before the night was through for her, she’d amuse her associate. Snap him out of his funk.

“Last month when I got out of my meatsuit, a man saw me.”

Yorgi’s eyes widened. “Is this something we are gonna have to worry about?”

Rhi shook her head. “I took care of it. But he called me something I never heard of before. Dray-juh.”

“I think the proper term is drah-geh.” He corrected.

“Ring a bell since you’re the language expert?”

“Eh, not really. But it sounds like old Norse. If I could compare it to anything in old English it sounds like dragon, chimera maybe?”

Rhi leaned back in the seat, nodding in approval. She whispered the word to herself several times. For years Rhi had been trying to find something, a word that separates her from the two legged apes she had to share the planet with. Finding her name was easy, but a species name was a whole other job in itself. This new word seemed to fit the bill.

“I think I like being called a drage.”

#outofhotpockets #ooc #ravage #novel #work in progress

6 notes · View notes

soto-translates · 7 years

Text

Chaos (aka the body switch scene)

Aha, I love this scene. The guys fall down a mountain and end up in each others' bodies. Listening to Sanzo speak like Hakkai cracks me up.

Thank you to @seiten-taisei for the track!

(Pebbles roll down a hillside) [Gojyo]: (gasps for breath) Hey! You SURE there’s no other way? [Hakkai]: I’ve said so before; if we don’t cross this mountain we’ll have to make a large detour on our route west. [Goku]:What’s the big deal? It’s good to work up a sweat climbing a mountain every now and then. Yah! [Sanzo]: (panting) This… isn’t mountain climbing… This is rock climbing. [Goku]: Huh?! Sanzo?! Did ya say somethin’ just now?! (Wind whooshes by) [Gojyo]: Please don’t tell me… it’s gonna be like this the rest of the way?! [Hakkai]: Well, I’d like to hope not. But not only is harshness a trait of this area’s topography, it varies considerably from the map thanks to the effects of the Minus Wave. [Goku]: Quit complainin’, Gojyo. (Sanzo panting in the background) [Goku]: Even Sanzo’s keepin’ quiet an’ tryin’ his best. [Gojyo]: This guy’s not “keepin’ quiet”. He just can’t get up enough breath to say anything! (BANG! Gunshot ricochets off the rock) [Gojyo]: Woah! (catches his breath) Don’t go firing your gun in this situation, you beansprout monk! [Sanzo]: Who would do something so annoying?! [Hakkai]: Hm? Then, who was that just now? [Youkai 1]: Hahahaha! (cocks gun) It’s lucky you’re still alive, visiting Sanzo Ikkou! [Youkai 2]: (brandishes blades) We’ll take your lives and that scripture! [Sanzo]: … (sighs) Here? Seriously? [Goku]: Read the situation! This’s no time for that stuff! [Hakkai]: Ah, I think this is the result of them reading the situation. We are weakened this much, after all. [Youkai 1]: Ahahahaha! Quit your complaining! Say your prayers! [Youkai 2]: Get ‘em! [All Youkai]: YAAAAAHH!! [Sanzo]: “Prayers”? … I’m telling you… The only ones I read scripture for … (cocks gun) are the living! (BAM! Sanzo fires)

[Goku]: Saiyuki Reload Blast, volume 2. Limited edition drama CD: Chaos.

[Hakkai]: Haa. From here it looks like the sand gets much looser, too. [Gojyo]: (pants) I used too much energy. Even this is hard on me. (Sanzo panting in the background) [Goku]: Isn’t it just that you two smoke too much? [Sanzo]: Don’t say something like Hakkai would, Goku. Unlike you guys, I’m just a mere human! [Goku]: Oh, that’s right. Sometimes I forget tha- (The ground suddenly crumbles) [Sanzo]: Nnn! [Goku]: Ah! Sanzo! Woah!! (Sanzo grunts and Goku yelps as they go tumbling) [Hakkai]: Sanzo! [Gojyo]: Goku! [Sanzo]: Ow… [Gojyo]: Ah man, what’re those two doin’? [Hakkai]: Good thing it wasn’t a sheer cliff like earlier. Are you all right?! [Sanzo in Goku’s body]: Don’t go dragging people with you when you fall, you stupid monkey! [Goku in Sanzo’s body]: It wasn’t like that! You tripped, Sanzo! I was just helpin’ you! (Wind whooshes by) [Sanzo and Goku]: Huh? [Gojyo]: Wh-wh-wh-what? Hang on, what? [Hakkai]: (gasps) This can’t be… It’s the old “body switch” gag?! Who would have believed such a worn out gag would make an appearance after 14 years of serialization?! [Gojyo]: Hey, who’re you speaking for? Actually, would this even make sense to kids? [Goku in Sanzo’s body]: Huh?! Ah, it’s true! I’m Sanzo! No wonder I was movin’ so slow! (FWAP! Goku gets the fan) [Sanzo in Goku’s body]: Quit saying unnecessary things, monkey. You guys stop smiling and hurry up and figure out a way to get us back to normal. [Gojyo]: Sanzo, I like how you hit your own head without hesitation. OOF!! [Sanzo in Goku’s body]: (hits Gojyo) Don’t look down on me, you useless hulk. [Gojyo]: (groans) Do you even know how hard Goku punches when he uses his full strength, you stinkin’ monkey priest? [Goku in Sanzo’s body]: (popping joints) Ahh, Sanzo’s so skinny. Hey, how come every time I extend your arms ’n legs, your joints go pop? [Sanzo in Goku’s body]: Hey, don’t handle someone else’s body so roughly! [Hakkai]: Mmm, unfortunately, it is a bit inconvenient as things stand. [Goku in Sanzo’s body]: How come that’s unfortunate? [Gojyo]: I mean, it’s hilarious from where I’m standin’. [Hakkai]: Yes, well. The standard solution for this situation would be… I can only think of this! (Hakkai shoves Sanzo and Goku) [Goku in Sanzo’s body]: Woah! [Sanzo in Goku’s body]: Hakkai, you bastard! [Gojyo]: The hell’er you doin’ pushin’ me over too, stupid?! (grabs Hakkai) [Hakkai]: Huh? Woah! (All four yelp and groan as they tumble over and over. The dust settles. A hawk cries) [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: What’re we doin’? [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Isn’t it all right if everyone’s back to normal? For once. [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Nnn? [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Hm? [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Woah! I’m all huge! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Geh, the hell? My arms ’n legs’re so short! No way, I’m the mini monkey?! [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Hm? Huh? [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: That means… [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Hakkai. You are going to fix this. Right?! [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Ahahahaha. Ah, I’m sorry about that. But look, we’ve definitely had a breakthrough ♡ [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Nnnn! Don’t smile with my face! And don’t end with a heart! [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Gyaah! Sanzo’s creepy! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: That’s the only thing that hasn’t been done in the past 14 years. Prohibited, prohibited. [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Please don’t treat others like monsters. You two are quite amusing yourselves. [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Nah, we can’t beat that impact. [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: What’re we gonna do?! We’re all messed up! [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Yes, hm… Since it’s become like this, the most proven way to return to normal would be… to climb back up two by two and then fall back down… repeating as necessary. [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Ah, wait a minute. I really wanna show this Sanzo to somebody. [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Huh? [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Me too! I wanna play around like this a little more! I mean, this never happens! [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Well, that is true. [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Right? Anyway, let’s call Kougaiji and his group. [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: (cocks gun) Enough. Start climbing. Or do you want me to slice your souls from your bodies one by one? [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Uuuu… This’s the first time I’ve ever thought Sanzo was scary. [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Wait, where the hell on Hakkai’s body did he pull that gun from? [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Ahahahaha. Seems like the joke’s gone too far. Okay, first, Goku and Gojyo, please climb to the top and come tumbling back down. [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Okay! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: ‘Ch. Not only do we gotta climb back up, we gotta get roughed up, too. What a pain. [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Hurry up and climb, you stinking kappa monkey! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Fine, fine. (He starts climbing) [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: He’s way scarier than usual.

[Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Oryah! Oryah! Wow! In Gojyo’s body I can reach rocks so far away! This is such a waste! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Shaddup, giant monkey. ‘Sides, what’s up with your body? You’re so light, I’m not going forward at all. [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: What? That’s just ‘cause the guy inside’s motor skills suck. My body moves way more, and it’s way easier to use. [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: This thing is too light. It’s got no stability. Your arms ’n legs’re short, just like a frog. It’s hard to use! [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: Gojyo your body stinks of cigarettes, and you run out breath super fast. What’s up with this? Your arms ’n legs’re like the Eighth Wonder of the World, they’re so long and they get in my way. Red Roach Eighth Wonder! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Who’s a Red Roach Eighth Wonder? Don’t keep callin’ me a creepy bug! You mini monkey frog! (They start scuffling with each other) [Goku in Gojyo’s body]: What was that, you-! [Gojyo in Goku’s body]: Bring it! (They continue fighting in the background) [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: What are you two doing? [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: They’re incurable idiots. (CRACK! The rock under Goku and Gojyo gives way) [Goku and Gojyo]: Huh? Wha — ow ow ow ow! [Hakkai in Sanzo’s body]: Hm? [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Hey, don’t come this way! (BOOM! They all collide. The dust settles and a hawk cries as they all groan) [Goku]: Gyaha! … Huh? … It’s my body! I’m back! Hey, so we turned back to normal just now. Lucky, right? [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Ugh… We’re not back to normal. [Goku]: Huh? Hakkai, you’re still … Sanzo inside?! [Gojyo in Sanzo’s body]: Ouch. Shit, this sucks ass. Who woulda thought I’d end up in Cherry-chan’s body. (BLAM! He gets shot at) [Gojyo in Sanzo’s body]: Woah! [Sanzo in Hakkai’s body]: Try saying that one more time, you nasty shithead. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because that’s my body. [Goku]: Huh? This time it’s … Gojyo inside Sanzo?! This’s so confusing! I don’t get it anymore! [Hakkai in Gojyo’s body]: I give up. Ahahahaha. [Sanzo, Gojyo, Goku]: Uwah……

END

#saiyuki #dramacd #translation

77 notes · View notes