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littlemisslol-fic · 3 years

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Summary: Eugene was raised in a world of fire and blood. He barely remembers a time before the lights went out, the Blackout, that plunged humanity into a chaotic realm of violence and desperation. It’s been ten years since the end of the world, the birth of a graveyard that wasn’t kind to those too weak to take care of themselves- and it is there that Eugene finds a kid, abandoned to the wasteland and desperately trying to return home. Varian’s unassuming, easy prey in the hard-knock world Eugene’s come to call home, so it’s with begrudging acceptance he agrees to help the kid out. Not everything is as simple as he’d believe, however, and Varian hosts a few secrets of his own. In order to survive, they’ll have to learn to trust one another- though trust is a rare commodity in a world like theirs. No one man is an island after all.

Chapter Notes: It’s the end!

Eugene hadn’t expected to wake up again.

The first thing he notices is that his mouth tastes terrible. It’s a strange thing to notice first, but really, who can blame him? There’s no real noise, but he can hear something muffled; everything sounds like it’s through a filter, or underwater. Eugene’s thoughts swim through his head, impossible to catch, it’s like trying to grab a fish with his bare hands. Infuriating.

Whatever he’s lying on is soft, warm. A bed for sure. It’s a far cry from the rough concrete he’d been splattered on before. Eugene groans, shifting and reveling in the comfort for a second, allowing himself to nearly drift off again. God, he’s tired, he could sleep for a thousand years if the pain in his left shoulder would just knock it off for a bit-

Wait.

Pain. Getting shot. Andrew.

Varian.

Brown eyes snap open as Eugene feels a sudden pulse of panic. The man shoots up into a sitting position, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. The kid, oh shit, where’s the kid, his mind screams at him on repeat, a cacophony of thoughts piling on top of each other in a way that keeps any of them from fully making sense.

Eugene flails on the bed, his legs quickly tangling in the sheets and sending him toppling to the hardwood floor with a harsh thump. It’s agony, a fiery pain that laces from his upper shoulder and into his chest properly, but Eugene doesn’t stop to contemplate it. He’s in unknown territory, with unknown people. He’s only in his undershirt and pants- boots, gone, jacket, gone, backpack, gone.

Kid, long gone.

Shit.

Eugene’s mind brings up the image of Varian’s face, streaked with tears and blue eyes blown wide in terror, and feels himself steel. The kid needs him. Andrew’s sure to be pissed, and something tells Eugene the Saporian isn’t going to be kind about that fact. The man can’t help the feeling of anger at the brief memory of how roughly Andrew had treated Varian when he’d seen them in the same space.

Case and point, he has to get going after them, and fast.

…As soon as he figures out where the hell he is.

It’s probably not with the Saporians, Eugene can’t see them healing him after attempting to murder him. Bandits, maybe? Sometimes they liked to grab people from the wastes once they were too weak to take care of themselves, and then coerce them into repaying the kindness of saving their ass. Seems the most likely, for sure.

Eugene grumbles as he pushes himself up off the floor. He stands on shaky legs, nearly falling over from fatigue and only staying upright by clumsily grabbing at the headboard of the bed he’d been laying on. His bare feet slap against the wooden floor, making a series of loud thumps. He groans, whoever had grabbed him probably knows he’s awake now.

Eugene rolls his shoulders, wincing at the stiffness. He sends a questing hand towards the wound in shoulder, assessing. Thick, well wrapped bandages cover the wound, which stings as he touches it. It was definitely a shot at his heart, but it had hit too high. Right in the fleshy part of his shoulder sits five new stitches, expertly done from the feeling of them. He doesn’t trust it, to be honest.

A good look around the room doesn’t yield much in the way of information. He’s in a smaller room, a bedroom to be sure. It’s barren, save for the bed, a nightstand with a pitcher on it, and a table pushed against the opposite wall. There’s large windows to his left, a door to his right. Bright sunlight flows in from the window. It’s a homey enough space, warm and clean, but Eugene knows better than to trust it. A closer look at the table brings good news. Eugene grins when he catches sight of his stuff, jacket folded primly and backpack seemingly untouched from how full it still looks.

That’s… suspicious.

But not what he needs to focus on right now.

The wooden floors creak slightly as he heads towards his stuff. Eugene’s mind whirls with a million plans. First, he has to get out of the house. Second, he has to figure out where the hell he even is. Third, and the most important: he needs to find the fastest route back to Saporian territory. Andrew thinks Eugene is dead, thinks it’s safe to take Varian back to their home base, and that is an incredible advantage. Eugene knows where they’re going, knows where Varian is going to be, which makes getting the kid back leagues easier than if the Saporians had split to somewhere new out of fear of being caught.

Eugene quickly slips his boots and jacket on, ignoring the burning fire in his shoulder at the motion. Damn he’d gotten lucky, even if it meant living with an injury this bad for at least a month. The backpack follows soon enough, something of a grounding weight. Varian’s boon, he notes, is missing.

Teeth grit, Eugene turns towards the window.

If he’s a prisoner, there’s no way the door isn’t rigged. If it’s not locked, it’s a trap. Eugene cracks his knuckles, quietly moving towards the window with practiced grace. It seems whoever had bandaged him up had yet to figure out he’s still awake, another stroke of luck.

He reaches the window, a medium sized opening that’s just as well maintained as the rest of the room, and slips his hands under the wooden sill. It opens soundlessly, allowing a fresh breeze to flow through. Eugene allows himself the quick moment to let himself enjoy it, as well as the feeling of the sun on his face. It’s a warm day, probably about mid-afternoon if he’s to guess, the air crisp with the smell of apples, of all things.

It’s during this moment of reprieve, that Eugene hears growling.

A blur of grey fur comes bolting through the window and into the room, startling the man into falling backwards with a very manly shriek, thank you. His ass hits the floor with a loud thump, muffled by the sound of high-pitched snarls coming from-

“A raccoon?!” Eugene snaps, shoving the furry creature away from his face. It lands on the bed with a yowl, its beady black eyes narrowed in a glare. “What the hell-?“

The rodent snarls again, spitting and pacing on the bed. It’s weird looking, for a wild animal, its coat shiny and fluffy. It looks like it’s had baths, like it’s a pet-

Eugene’s mind suddenly makes the connection, and he throws out his hands.

“Uh, shit,” he mumbles, “What did the kid call you? R-Reggie? No, that’s stupid. Remington?”

The raccoon stops the feral act, his little head cocking as Eugene stumbles over a few more R names.

“Ruddiger!” Eugene finally shouts, snapping his fingers. At the sound of the name, the raccoon perks right up, chittering something that almost sounds like a question. Eugene sees the spark of recognition in those beady eyes though, and things quickly start to fall into place.

“You’re Ruddiger, right?” he asks, grinning when the raccoon blinks. “And you belong to Varian?”

At the kid’s name the raccoon makes an excited noise. Eugene holds out a hand, smiling when the critter pushes into his palm with a purr. The raccoon, Ruddiger, is surprisingly soft. His little eyes shut as he shoves his face into Eugene’s hand. It’s ridiculously cute. Eugene feels a small smile cross his face, scratching the animal behind his ears.

“Alright, you weird cat.” He says, “Want to tell me where the door is? I know where your human’s at.”

Ruddiger squeaks at that, eyes wide at the mention of the kid. His ringed tail perks up, swishing from side to side. Eugene also notices that one of his ears, the one towards the door perks. The raccoon looks past the man and towards the exit; Eugene only has a split second to spin around before the door to the bedroom flings open.

With a startled yell Eugene bolts backwards, putting the corner of the bed between himself and the two people who come running at him through the door. They’re two women, one holding a sword and the other swinging a frying pan like it’s a bat. All three of them scream, the women in rage and Eugene in fear.

The one with the sword gets to Eugene first, swiping at him with a fierce cry. Her dark hair swings with the motion, nearly distracting as Eugene’s forced to duck to avoid her blade. He’s made a mistake, but he only realizes that when, with a perfectly executed switch, the women reverse positions and the blond one swings her frying pan up in a wide arc. Eugene can’t avoid it, taking the hit in the chin and toppling to the floor with a grunt.

He lands hard, blood filling his mouth from a bit tongue. Before he can even move the black-haired woman has him pinned, kneeling by his head with her hands keeping him on the floor while the blond one looms over him. Eugene’s head spins, his mouth filling with the taste of copper.

Eventually his vision focuses again, snapping onto a pair of stunning green eyes. The blond woman leans over him, holding something in her hand. He blinks at it for a second, confused and probably concussed, if he’s honest, until his head finally clears.

“Where did you get this?” Blondie demands. Varian’s boon sparkles in the sunlight. When Eugene tries to get his tongue to work, she shakes it in his face and leans forward.

“I said.” Her face darkens. “Where. Did you. Get this?”

“A friend!” Eugene finally snaps, struggling against black-hair’s grip. “A friend gave it to me, okay? And he’s in trouble, so I’d really appreciate you letting me go-“

“Who.” It’s less a question and more a demand. The woman’s green eyes are stony, there’s a rage there that Eugene can’t help but fear a bit.

“A kid.” He finally relents. The blond woman is familiar, and Eugene thinks he knows where from, though he’s not stupid enough to drop Varian’s name on assumptions. “I was helping him get home, we got separated. I got shot, and the people who did it took him.”

“Was his name-” Blondie starts, but black-hair cuts her off with a hiss.

“Raps, we don’t know this guy.” She says, “He might be lying.”

That cinches it.

“It’s from Varian.” Eugene says. The two women’s heads look down at him, blondie’s- Rapunzel’s- eyes going wider than dinner plates.

“You were with Varian?!” She gasps. Before Eugene can register what’s happening, she grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to sit up, her face getting concerningly close. “Was he okay?! Where is he now?” She shakes him once; Eugene swears he can feel his brain rattle in his skull.

“I- yeah, yeah, I was with the kid!” Eugene snaps, lightly slapping at her hands. She lets go with a sheepish expression, but Eugene continues on without prompting. “He’d been running from the Saporian gang, said they’d taken him from Corona.”

“They did.” Black-hair grunts. “Right under our noses, those bastards-”

“Cass.” Rapunzel chides quietly. “Please. Let him finish.”

Eugene feels oddly self conscious under her stare, trying hard not to look into her desperate eyes. It seems that now that he’s started talking, he can’t make himself stop. The words spill out, fast and rough- though that could be the blood loss talking.

“I found Varian out in the wastes,” He says. “He’d gotten away from the Saporians, asked me to help him find his way back… well back here, I’d assume. We were close, but Andrew found us.”

“Shit.” Black-hair, Cass, hisses. “If we’d known you were coming, we could have sent help. You were only a few clicks from here.”

Eugene grunts, testing his shoulder. “They took him again,” he says. The women’s faces fall. “But I know where they’re going.”

Rapunzel perks up at that, considering. “You’d help us go get him?” She asks, and her face breaks into a smile when Eugene nods.

“I promised to get him home,” he says. “And I’m not done until I’ve kept that promise.”

Rapunzel pauses, looks Eugene over with a calculating face. “And what’s in it for you?” She asks, and he freezes. It’s like a deer trapped in headlights, Eugene being faced with the horrific reality that he might actually care. A large part of him wants to deny it, to claim profit, but… well it just wouldn’t be truthful. He thinks of the kid, of how far lying got them at the start.

“Originally it was supplies,” he finally admits. “But… I dunno, the kid’s endearing, I guess. He grew on me like a mold.”

Cass snorts, standing from the floor. “That’s our Varian.”

Rapunzel smiles, something almost sad. Her eyes focus back on Eugene, before she keeps grilling him.

“Was he okay? Did they hurt him?”

Eugene bites at his lip, not sure if the truth would help at this point, but at those pleading, green eyes, he breaks.

“He was mostly fine,” he admits. “Lot of bruises. Pale, thin. They definitely weren’t feeding him enough. I don’t know what he was like, uh, before, but the kid’s skittish. Flinches a lot, scares easily.”

Rapunzel’s face falls with every word, but Eugene can see the rage building. “They hurt him,” she hisses. Eugene nods.

“Most likely.”

He sees her jaw clench.

“They’re dead.” Cass says, placating her friend. “We find them, they’re dead. With, uh-“

“Eugene.”

“-Eugene’s help, we’ll find him. We’ll bring him home, Raps. We just have to go and get him.”

Rapunzel nods at that, looks down to Eugene again. She stands, breathing deeply, once through her nose.

“Okay.” She says, and it’s more of a war cry than Eugene’s ever heard.

She extends a hand down to him. He takes it. “They think I’m dead.” Eugene says as she pulls him to his feet. “They don’t know that I know where their base is. Or at least, close to where their base is.”

“It’s more than we had to work with before.” Cass nods. Eugene can see the way she thinks, face flipping though multiple emotions. The hand holding her sword twitches. Eugene shifts his weight on his feet looking between them.

“It’s a fair way,” He admits.

“How far?” Cass’s face is grim.

“About a week. Me and the kid have been walking at least that long, maybe a little shorter.”

Rapunzel’s face falls again, before she looks to the two of them with a fire in her eye. It’s… well it’s attractive, Eugene will admit. She’s got spunk, especially when she twirls her frying pan with a showy sense of flair and focuses on the two other people in the room.

“Well,” she says, “I guess we’d better get going.”

>>>><<<<

Varian has had… better nights.

He shudders against the cold wind of evening, back pressed firmly against a tree. It’s freezing out tonight, the last of summer’s heat slowly giving way to fall. He knows his face is set firmly into a scowl, a bitter, angry expression. Good. Varian shifts his weight a little, wincing when the thick handcuff wrapped around one of his wrists digs into his skin when the movement tugs on the thick tree root Andrew had tied him to. Varian hates that’s he’s used to it, to the feeling of iron keeping him in place like a good little pet. Varian can feel as his anger festers, sinking deeper into him.

This marks the second night since Andrew had found him, since Varian had been dragged, kicking and screaming, onto the hot air balloon he’d designed and forced to watch as the highway had disappeared over the horizon. He’d been so close to home, barely a few hours more before they would have hit Corona. If they hadn’t stopped for the night, they would have made it, and Eugene…

Varian sniffles, rubbing his sore eyes with a bare wrist. They’d taken his hoodie long ago, leaving him in nothing but a thin T-shirt. He’d thought he’d cried himself out earlier, but the thought of the man always seemed to drag more tears from him. Varian couldn’t help but feel guilty, a festering, angry thing. Eugene had helped him, had ignored what his instincts had told him in order to help Varian to get home. He’d been kind, and it killed him.

Varian feels tears drip down his cheeks. The boy blinks quickly, scrubbing at his face. He casts a worried expression towards the center of the clearing the Saporians had landed them in, where a dull fire crackles. Andrew and his cronies sit around it, unaware of their being watched. It’s late in the night, a few of them have long since gone to sleep, but Andrew and a few others stay awake to keep watch.

Varian tugs idly on the cuff, yanking it against the thick root. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t budge, the root embedded deep into the earth. He sighs, curling up under the meager safety of the tree and wiping at his red rimmed eyes. The sky above is dark, thick with clouds that hide the moon’s glow. Shadows reach towards them all with creeping fingers, choking out any light left.

Varian chances another look to the Saporians. They’re all chatting, clearly not focused on him in the slightest. They’re relaxed, easily confident that they’re safe for the evening.

Varian scowls, knowing they’re probably right.

He doesn’t have anything on him that he can use, Andrew had made sure of that, but he still had a trick or two under his belt. He manages to find a larger stick, long since split in half by the passage of time, along with a thinner twig. They’re bone dry, the summer heat sapping the moisture from the wood, so it’s in rapid succession that Varian’s able to pin the larger stick under his knee and swipe the smaller back and forth rapidly across a groove in the center. He repeats the motion as fast as he can, scraping the wood together until he can see smoke. Varian huffs out a small hah as he scoops up a few dry leaves, tipping the charred, smoking bits onto the tinder and gently blowing on it.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to himself, “C’mon.”

A small flame sparks to life. Varian nearly chokes on his gasp of excitement, dropping it to the forest floor and blowing on it again. The little fire splutters to life, catching on the dry tinder. Varian breathes a sigh of relief as it begins to grow, a tiny, flickering thing that finally offers a little heat, a little warmth. He slowly brings his hands away, intent on grabbing more fuel for the fire, when something else enters his view.

A boot comes slamming down, snuffing the fire out with a firm stomp. Varian cringes, looking up and seeing Andrew glaring down at him. The boy shrinks into himself, curling back as Andrew’s face darkens.

“Whatcha up to, buddy?” The man asks, twisting his foot firmly into the dirt. Varian feels a pulse of fear as Andrew looms over him, his back pressing against the bark of the tree. For a brief second, he finds himself longing for Eugene. He has to choke down the wave of sorrow the feeling brings right after.

“It’s cold.” Varian mumbles, refusing look up from the boot to meet Andrew’s glare. “I was-”

“Trying to escape?” Andrew asks, his face pulling down into a frown.

Varian’s breath hitches. “No!” He stutters, hands pulling up close to his chest. “No, no, I promise, I wasn’t trying to get away-”

“That’s good.” Andrew cuts him off again. Varian’s protest putters out, the boy going quiet. He tries to hide it, but his hands shake. Andrew notices, and his face splits into a smile. “You remember what happened last time you ran, don’t you? It was only a few days ago, after all.”

Varian’s breath hitches, the boy’s eyes going wide. “I…” He trails off, looking down to the earth.

Andrew’s weight shifts, the man crouching down into a squat. “Didn’t you learn anything? Fitzherbert died, because of you.” He says, and his face pulls into an exaggerated frown. “It was all your fault, Varian. Because you ran away, like a selfish little prick, a man died. Remember?”

The boy’s breath hitches, eyes going wide. “No, it’s- you’re the one who killed him!” His voice cracks, Varian’s face crumbling.

“And if you had just stayed put, I wouldn’t have done it.” Andrew shrugs like it’s an easy thing. “You dragged Fitzherbert into it, you made that choice to involve him. So yeah, bud, it’s on you.”

Varian’s face goes pale, the kid refusing to look up. Andrew reaches out, ignoring when the boy flinches away. He grabs Varian’s chin, forcing the boy to meet his eye. “I guess this was just what it took for you to learn your place,” he says, grinning when Varian’s shoulders hitch in a silent sob. “But it is what it is. So long as you do as you’re told, no one else needs to die.”

Tears run down freckled cheeks. Andrew lets go of Varian’s chin with a sigh, standing. “You’ll learn, one day. And when you do, we’re going to do great things together.”

With that, he turns and goes back to his fire. Varian covers his mouth with his hands, trying to muffle the fresh round of tears. His eyes burn from the salt, the boy blinking as his vision swims. His eyes slam shut as he lets himself be taken by another wave of despair, his whole body shaking with the force of the sorrow, the devastation.

The guilt.

In front of him, the small patch of soot quickly grows cold.

>>>><<<<

Eugene’s shoulder kills, but he refuses to let it stop him. The jostling of the horse underneath him does nothing to help, but he grits his teeth and bears it. They’d been riding for two days, hustling along the highway that Eugene had been found on, the same highway Andrew had attacked them. The horses are leagues faster than walking had been, and even Eugene knows that a hot air balloon is slow as all hell. At the rate they’re going, they’ll catch up with the Saporians sooner rather than later.

They only break for about eight hours, taking the risk of having no lookout to spend the minimum amount of time stopped before they’re off again. It’s a brutal pace, on rider and horse both, but Cassandra had made the good point that if Andrew and his crew could get the kid back to their base, rescuing Varian would be considerably more difficult. If they could catch the gang out in the wastes, it would simply be a matter of grabbing the kid and running like hell was on their heels.

Sure. Simple.

It’s been two days of riding. They’ve got to be close; they’ve already reached close to the gorge where he and Varian had almost died. They’d even stayed a night in the same farmhouse, its once cheery interior all the colder without the kid there. It’s early in the night, the sky dark and cloudy. They’d pulled off to the side of the highway to stop for the night, but Cassandra had stopped them before they could start to unpack a camp.

“Wait.” She whispers, quietly gesturing towards the forest. Eugene follows her motion, catching sight of dull light in the distance. A campfire. His eyebrow raises, a weathered hand settleing on the hilt of his sword.

“Could it be...?” Rapunzel trails off, hopeful. Cassandra shrugs, but catches Eugene’s eye. The man nods, already knowing what she’s implying.

“We should check it out,” he says. “The balloon barely caught up to us at a walking pace. I wouldn’t be surprised if we managed to overtake them on the horses.”

One of the animals, named Maximus as Eugene had learned, looks nearly smug as Eugene speaks. The man rolls his eyes, but still turns to where the fire burns in the distance.

“If there’s a chance it’s them, we have to check,” he says. Rapunzel nods, frying pan already in hand.

They creep forwards together, drawing close to the fire on quiet feet. The forest around them is alight with life, bugs and birds and small animals moving around and hiding their approach. Eugene is easily the quietest of them all, though Cassandra gets to the edge of the clearing first. She ducks into a thick bush, waving the others forwards once she confirms it’s a good spot. Eugene and Rapunzel dip in behind her, moving to either side. The thick brush is hard to see through, but it’s hidden, and for now that’s what’s important. The dirt under his knees is cold; Eugene shivers in the colder evening temperatures. From their place, kneeling in the dirt, Eugene can see the whole camp.

The first person he notices is Andrew.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers. “It’s them.”

The Saporians have a nice little camp going, to be fair. A large fire in the center of a clearing, the five of them scattered about. Three of them are asleep, the only ones awake are Andrew and the younger woman, Juniper. They relax next to the fire, relaxed and content with their places. A deflated hot air balloon sits nearby, small and chock full of odd little gadgets that must be Varian’s modifications.

Speaking of.

“Where’s Varian?” Rapunzel asks, her voice strained. “I don’t see him.”

“Me neither,” Cassandra hisses back.

Eugene scans the area near the fire. “He’s got to be around somewhere,” he mutters. “Andrew wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight, not after Varian gave him the slip once.”

“Wait- there!” Rapunzel nearly moves forwards, lurching towards the clearing. Cassandra snaps out a hand to stop her, grabbing the blonde by her arm and pulling her back down. Rapunzel struggles for a second more, but stops when Cass shakes her head. Instead the blonde points to the edge of the glen, where a large tree sits. There, handcuffed to the base of the tree…

“Varian.” Eugene whispers. Something in his chest, a knot that had been twisting in his gut for days, finally begins to unwind at the sight of Varian, though any sense of relief is cut short by the state of him. The kid looks like shit, even worse than the last time Eugene had seen him. The kid looks beat to hell; a fresh, purple bruise splays across Varian’s face, his wrist bleeds from where he’s been chained to the tree. Worst of all, however, is the obvious signs of the distress the kid’s in. Baby blue eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot. The kid’s crying, wiping at his face in a futile attempt to keep himself composed, but there’s no hiding the flush of his cheeks and the shaking of his lip.

Rapunzel makes a noise that’s close to a growl. Eugene can see the way her hand tightens around her frying pan. The sight of Varian’s distress obviously effects all three of them- Cassandra looks ready for murder, and Eugene’s sure his own expression can’t be much better. Even at the relief of seeing the kid alive, the sight of Varian in so much pain without anyone even trying to comfort him stirs a rage that Eugene rarely ever feels.

It’s not right- it was never right of course, but these bastards had ripped Varian away from his home, from his family. And now, faced with a crying kid that they had hurt, they couldn’t even be damned to give the kid a sweater or something, since they’d chained him far from the fire. Varian gets cold easily, even Eugene knows that.

The anger is like fire, spreading up from his gut and into his chest, a raging warmth that spurs the grip on his sword and the glare in his eye. It’s not right. He grits his teeth against the gnashing rage, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“What’s the plan, blondie?” He asks, eyes never looking away from the distant figure of Varian. “Kid’s close to the edge of camp, but I don’t know how long the cuff will take to pick.”

“I can make a distraction.” Cassandra offers. “Go back to the road, make a bunch of noise. Excluding Andrew, they’re not the smartest bunch. Bang two sticks together and they’ll come running.”

Rapunzel pauses, thinking. “There’s five of them,” she says. Her eyebrows furrow together in thought, the woman biting at her lip. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea.”

Eugene shakes his head. “We can’t take them head on. Even if we can get the kid free, it’s four against five. Varian’s not a fighter, he’s a-”

“A man of science.” Rapunzel finishes the sentence, catching Eugene’s eye. “That’s what he always says.”

Eugene’s mouth shuts with a click of teeth. Rapunzel’s face sinks into a warm smile. She puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward as much as she’s able. “You’re close with him?” She asks.

Eugene wants to deny it, wants to still pretend that this is all about some stupid ego-code, or revenge, or just because he wants to… but he’d be lying. He meets Rapunzel’s eye, nods.

“Varian’s… he’s a good kid.” Eugene scratches at the back of his neck. He looks away, refusing to acknowledge the heat in his cheeks. “So sue me if I got attached. He’s like a puppy, you can’t not.”

Rapunzel shakes her head, quietly laughing. “That’s exactly it,” she says. “Thank you, though. For taking care of him, I mean.”

“It was nothing-”

“No it wasn’t.”

No, it wasn’t.

Cassandra makes a small noise. Eugene looks back towards the clearing, glaring when he sees Andrew step away from the group and into the woods.

“Now?” He asks. Rapunzel pauses only for a second, weighing the options.

“Now,” she says. “Try and get Varian’s cuff unlocked without getting caught. If they spot you, Cass and I will step in.”

“Got it.” Eugene says, already moving back into the brush. He swings wide, keeping his distance from the camp as he circles around to where Varian is. His boots barely make a sound in the night, Eugene sneaking as quietly as he can. If he gets caught now, it will only end badly for Varian. They have one shot at this, and Eugene’s going to use it wisely.

He eventually gets close enough to see the kid properly, barely containing himself as the bruises, the blood, gets more pronounced against freckled skin. The kid looks worse up close, and it makes Eugene want to punch something. Specifically Andrew.

But that’s for later.

“Kid.” He hisses, trying to get Varian’s attention. The boy’s half asleep, cried out and obviously exhausted as he huddles against the tree to his back. Varian’s head looks up sharply at the whisper, staring directly at Eugene’s hiding place with wide eyes. The man takes the chance of popping out from between the trees, showing himself for a quick second.

He doesn’t get the reaction he was expecting.

Varian goes as white as a sheet, the blood draining from his face as it drops into a horrified expression. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. To be fair, though, from Varian’s perspective he probably has.

“E-Eugene?” He whispers, looking back and forth from Eugene’s hiding place and the campfire. “You’re alive?”

“Andrew’s a shitty shot,” is all Eugene says. It looks safe enough, so he chances crawling out from the brush and towards the kid. Varian’s face is still pulled in shock, baby blue eyes wide and nearly popping out of his skull. When Eugene gets close, he raises a shaking hand, looking scared to try anything more. The chain keeping him tied to the tree rattles with the movement.

With a small sigh, Eugene leans forwards and gently takes the cuffed hand. His heart aches at the shocked intake of breath the kid makes at the touch. Varian’s shaking, but not from cold.

“I thought you died…” The kid says. Eugene looks at him, sees the tears quickly springing up.

“Nah,” Eugene shrugs, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m like a cockroach. I’d love to see something actually succeed in killing me, I’m basically immortal.”

Varian laughs wetly, wiping at his face to dispel the tears. Eugene feels something in him settle as the kid’s face splits into a small, cautious smile.

“You’ll never guess who picked me up, by the way,” the man continues. Varian perks up, tilting his head. Eugene tilts his head in thought, playing it up to keep the kid laughing. “Some blonde chick and her crazy-ass friend, right. And, get this, they had a raccoon with them.”

The kid’s eyes go wide with surprise, the weak smile splitting into something closer to the wide grin Eugene’s come to know. “Rapunzel?” He asks quietly, like he can’t believe it. “And Cass? And Ruddiger?!”

“What are the odds, huh?” Is all Eugene replies with, trying not to smile as Varian grabs at his wrist.

“Are they here too?” The kid asks, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Did they-”

“Yeah, goggles. They came to help me get you home. Thought I could use the backup, this go around… but first we have to get you loose.”

Eugene looks down to the kid’s hand, more specifically the cuff around Varian’s wrist. It’s old, even in terms of the time after the blackout. The cuffs are rusted, but the metal’s still holding strong after all these years. Eugene is nothing if not resourceful, however, and he’s got just the thing.

“Hm,” he says. “Looks like an old police cuff. Should be easy enough to get you out of there.” Eugene reaches into his boot, drawing out his most valuable possession. The kid makes a confused noise, something small, but welcome.

“A paperclip?” Varian asks. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, don’t knock the paperclip.” Eugene quickly unbends the thing, shaping the little metal stick into a right angle. “This little guy’s gotten me out of more than one situation, thank you very much.”

He slips the impromptu lock pick into the keyhole of the handcuff, starting to shift it around in the mechanism. Varian watches with a keen eye, curious. Eugene catches the look, and begins to quietly explain.

“The lock has two latches on the inside,” he murmurs, barely even paying attention. “So, see, you want to bend the clip at about a ninety-degree angle and then hit both of them at the same time. Just gotta find the right spot-”

Click.

“Et voila!” He grins as the cuff falls open. Varian gawps at his freed wrist, pulling it back towards his chest as Eugene lets go. The man risks a peek over to the Saporians again, seeing Andrew still missing and the others half asleep. Good.

“Alright, kid.” He says, drawing Varian’s stunned attention back. “Let’s say you and I blow this roadshow, huh?”

The kid starts to nod, but pauses, thinking. “They’ll just follow us,” he says. Varian worries at his lip with those buck teeth, thinking hard. “We need to destroy the balloon.”

“Wha- Goggles, no, listen-” God damn it they don’t have time for this. “Your sister brought horses, we can outrun them.”

“And then what?” Varian’s voice nearly cracks. “We just wait for them to show up at Corona? Hide away for the rest of m-our lives? What happens when we can’t keep running?”

Eugene can’t even find anything to say. The protests die on his tongue, especially when Varian’s face hardens.

“If we don’t do something, they’ll keep hurting people.” The kid’s insane- “If I can stop them now, it’s my responsibility to do that.”

“It’s your respons- kid, we’re trying to survive, here!”

“What’s the point of survival without helping other people?” Varian snaps, “Without charity? Without hope?! I’ve seen the world survival brings, and I don’t want a part of it; I want to make things better, even if it’s a risk.”

“There’s no room for thinking like that out here.” Eugene’s protest is weak, and he knows it. “That kind of shit’s going to get you killed. Now, let’s get the hell out of here!” He reaches for Varian’s hand, and only feels a little hurt when the kid pulls back.

“I’m ending this.” Varian says. “For good.”

And like that, the kid’s up like a shot. Eugene makes another grab at him, hissing Varian’s name, but the teenager’s gone too quickly, off and vanishing into the darkness. The man grits his teeth- what the actual hell is the kid thinking- before getting to his feet and following.

The forest is dark all around them, but Eugene catches up with the kid quickly enough. Twigs snap underfoot, a barely-there crack in the silence of the evening. Eugene huffs for breath as he sees Varian skid to a stop in front of him, the kid crouching behind a tree.

The man follows the boy’s eyeline, sees the balloon parked near the trees. Its deflated for the evening, the garish, purple fabric laying flat on the forest floor. A large, almost ship looking platform sits nearby, connected to the balloon with a series of ropes and thick cables. It looks strong, to be honest, much sturdier than the hot air balloons Eugene thinks of from the before. If anything, it’s more of a warship that happens to be floating under balloons, than a hot air balloon in the traditional sense.

And there, bolted above the deck in the center of the ship on a pyramid of thin, metal supports, is a large burner. Or, at least, Eugene thinks that’s what it is. The way Varian stares at the balloon seems to confirm it; the kid’s glaring at it like it’s personally offended him. Eugene sees the same spark in his eye that Varian had the day they met, when the kid had refused to take no for an answer and had pushed until Eugene agreed to get him home. The man sighs, knowing exactly what that look means.

“So that’s it, then?” He asks, sidling up next to the kid and hiding behind the same tree. Varian jumps for a second at the sound of his voice, but the kid finally nods before looking back to the balloon.

“Andrew keeps the plans on the ship.” Varian whispers. “I saw them when… uh, after we were separated. They don’t understand how the ship works, so if things broke, they used the blueprints to figure it out.”

“So let me guess,” Eugene can hear the resignation in his own voice. “You want to get the plans, too.”

“Or just destroy them.” Jesus, kid, “Either way, if we don’t remove the plans from the equation, they can just build a new ship.”

“Fantastic.”

“Ha. Tell me how you really feel.”

Eugene takes the time to glare down at the little shit. Varian grins brightly back, and honestly, it’s worth the irritation to see the kid smile.

“Okay, goggles,” he says, “This is your song and dance. What’s the plan?”

Varian worries at the bottom of his lip, looking around. “I think I can get close enough without getting spotted,” he whispers, “All I have to do is destabilize the reducer bell, that would make it burn too quickly, causing the fire to be an uncontrolled burn, meaning-”

“To the point kid, please.”

Varian grins, something reveling and almost mean. “Meaning boom,” he says.

Eugene can’t help but laugh, tweaking the kid’s ear. “Boom it is, then,” he grins. “We’ll stick together, better to run in pairs.”

Varian nods. Together they slowly creep out from the woods. Eugene can’t say he’s pleased about being so exposed, but if this is what it takes to get Varian to agree to leaving… well they’d better make it quick. Varian reaches the balloon first, quickly hopping into the wooden portion and out of sight. Eugene follows, pressing his back against the wooden wall. They hold the position for a second longer, waiting, listening. Nothing happens, the Saporians still unaware of their loose prisoner. Together they breathe a sigh of relief, Varian slouching more than Eugene against the panels.

The kid’s gotta be tired, there’s no question of it. Better get this done sooner, rather than later. Thankfully, there’s a series of crates that will keep them mostly hidden, with a few odds and ends stacked on top. It’ll be more than enough to hopefully make this quick.

“Alright,” Eugene murmurs. “Tell me what to do.”

Varian peeks up pausing. “I’ve got it,” he says. “If you do it wrong, we could blow up with it.”

“Ah.”

“Yep.”

Varian flips onto his feet in a squat, quickly reaching into a nearby crate. With a grin he pulls out his hoodie, still stocked from the way that it seems to glow from the chemicals within. The kid slips it on, looking already more like himself. He also pulls out the knife Eugene had given him, still sheathed. The boy waves it with a small flourish, smiling widely at the ridiculous look Eugene shoots him.

“Andrew knows better than to chuck a good knife just because he wants to be petty.” Varian shrugs. The kid moves closer to the burner, tilting it this way and that before pulling the knife from its sheath. He uses the tip to unscrew a panel from the bottom of the machine in a precise, practiced motion. A sense of amusement makes Eugene snicker as the kid sticks his tongue out in concentration, fiddling with the guts of the burner.

“Just a little more,” Varian whispers to Eugene. The man nods, looking around. Something doesn’t feel right, like it’s too easy. It gets his hackles up, the quiet of the evening. In theory it’s good that it’s quiet, but something about it just seems too perfect. Their luck has sucked so far, so something going right sets him right on edge.

Case and point, a sudden shout comes from the other end of the glen not two seconds later.

“Where’s the kid?!”

Andrew.

Varian flinches violently, borderline dropping to the deck of the ship. Eugene follows, settling into a crouch before peeking through the top railing with a cautious eye. He sees Andrew storming into camp from where they’d chained Varian, shaking the empty handcuffs. The fury across his face is evident, a snarling, vicious anger.

Eugene hears Varian suck in a terrified breath next to him.

All the Saporians have turned to look at their leader, shock written across their faces as the man shakes the cuffs roughly.

“I said,” he spits, “Where. The hell. Is the kid?”

“I- we- he can’t have gone far!” Juniper stumbles over her words, fear written plainly across her face. “He’s just a kid, we caught him before, right?”

“We caught that little shit because we shot Fitzherbert, which scared him into listening. You want to volunteer next, Juniper?”

Oh, Andrew’s pissed. Juniper wilts immediately, shrinking down. “We’ll find him,” she says, more a pleading thing than a declaration.

The boy next to Eugene shakes at the mention of the night on the highway, flinching as the man quietly offers his hand in consolation. The kid takes his hand, clinging tightly to the illusion of safety. Varian shudders and shifts, to try and see the camp better.

Knocks into a nearby crate.

The whole thing rattles, sending a glass bottle toppling to the deck below. Eugene throws a hand out, trying to catch it, but he’s just short; his fingers graze the bottle before it passes him by, slamming into the wooden surface of the ship and breaking into a million pieces. The noise it makes rattles in Eugene’s ears, the high-pitched crack of shattered silence.

There’s a pause, Eugene and Varian staring at each other in abject horror before they hear hurried footsteps.

“Whelp,” Eugene says, already standing. “I think it’s time to go, don’t you?”

“Agreed!” Varian shouts, shooting to his feet and starting to bolt. His knife drops to the deck, abandoned in the panic. Eugene vaults over the edge of the ship first, landing in the dirt. He unthinkingly twists, already holding his arms out to catch the kid. Varian lands in his grip with a little oomph, clinging tight as Eugene softens the fall. It’s a quick second of unconscious comfort, feeling Varian safe in his arms, though it doesn’t last long.

Eugene can hear the Saporians shout behind them, angry and loud. He chances a look towards them and see all five charging towards the airship, and towards them. Varian locks up in fear for a second, but a small push from Eugene gets him moving. They run, bolting for the woods, a fierce sprint that Eugene knows he’s going to feel in his knees tomorrow. Varian easily overtakes him- damn the kid’s fast when he wants to be- but skids to a stop at the edge of the forest. Eugene finds himself running past, digging his feet in to stop before he ends up leaving the kid behind. He twists on his heel just in time to see Varian reach into the depths of the hoodie and draw out a bomb, throwing it with a practiced motion.

It explodes into a cloud of fuchsia dust, the gas spreading through the entire clearing. Eugene can hear the Saporians shout in surprise- at least one of them hits something with a loud thump and a curse- but he loses sight of Varian in the process.

“Shit, goggles!?” He shouts, looking frantically around. Eugene stumbles over a rock, unable to see his own hand in front of his face. The sword in his hand is heavy, a comforting thing, but he doesn’t dare to use it. If it’s a friendly face and he swings… it would end badly, to say the least.

“Varian!?” He yells again, hearing chaos in the thick cloud. There’s a sudden clang of metal on what’s probably a skull from the way someone screams; it’s enough to set Eugene’s hair on end as the noise was close-

Another clang, another scream. Eugene whirls around with his sword held high, caution be damned-

Rapunzel.

The blond woman pauses, her frying pan held behind her not unlike how someone would hold a bat, ready to swing. Eugene jerks to a stop, bringing his sword down. Cassandra’s close behind the blonde, her green glare scanning the smoke. Rapunzel does the same, her eyes widening when she doesn’t see the kid at Eugene’s side.

“I thought you had Varian?!” Her voice pitches higher in a way that screams frantic. “Where is he?” “I lost him!” Eugene snaps, “He threw the bomb and vanished, what do you want from me?!”

He would keep shouting, but a quick motion behind him startles him. Eugene whirls on his heels, bringing his sword up in a block. He feels, more than sees, the impact of another blade connecting with his own, a harsh weight that makes the hole in his shoulder scream. He just catches sight of grey-green eyes before Andrew snarls, pressing hard into the block before backing off. Juniper stands at her side, already moving around like a stalking predator.

He hears Rapunzel shout behind him, the shuffling of footsteps interspaced with the clang of metal on metal. He chances a small look behind him, sees Rapunzel and Cassandra backing away from Kai, the large man towering over them. Juniper starts to move to Eugene’s left, even as Andrew stands in front.

They’re trying to flank him, he realizes with a dawning horror. Distract him long enough for one of them to get an in and cut him down. It’s a dirty ploy, but one that he’s seen done even in the animal kingdom. Unsurprising that the Saporians would use such a tactic.

“Fitzherbert,” Andrew’s voice is cold. “Looks like you’re harder to kill than I thought.”

Eugene shrugs. “You shoot like a bitch,” he says. Andrew scowls, a sour look crossing his face. Eugene can’t help but smirk, shifting his weight to keep both Saporians in his line of sight.

The girls seem pre-occupied with Kai, from the sound of it, so he knows he’s on his own here. He’s never fought Juniper before, but she looks capable, especially in the way she circles him with a quiet precision. For a second there’s an almost peaceful moment between the three of them, a weird sort of stalemate.

That is, until Andrew starts to back away, disappearing into the pink smoke.

“Juniper,” he says. “Be a dear and entertain our guest, would you?”

Eugene catches the glint of her smile. She holds a silver rapier in her hand, her dark skin turning nearly white at the knuckle with how tightly she holds it. His attention flits back to Andrew; the cocky bastard’s fully turned away now, waltzing into the pink cloud without a care.

“Don’t worry, Fitzherbert,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll take real good care of the kid, I promise.”

Eugene’s hackles raise at that. He starts to go after Andrew- ready to tear that asshole limb from limb, how dare he threaten the kid again- but Juniper stands in his way. Her sword’s held parallel to the ground, blocking his path. Her face is nearly blank, save for a calculating gleam in her eye.

There’s only a fraction of a second that passes before Juniper lunges forwards, a loud cry leaving her as she swings her sword. Eugene only just deflects it, a pulse of adrenaline guiding his hand as he knocks her sword away and parries with a swipe of his own. She barely gets out of the way, crouching and throwing one of her legs out in a perfect arc aimed directly at Eugene’s knee.

The man manages to hop over it, landing in a solid stance as Juniper switches her weight onto her hands. The woman continues her leg’s arc around in a full circle, swinging back around to connect her foot perfectly on Eugene’s jaw. It’s a good hit, solid. Eugene’s head swirls from the impact, the man bending double as his vision goes cross eyed.

He tastes blood where he’d bitten his cheek.

Juniper somehow ends up back on her feet, directing another kick at Eugene’s undefended side. It topples him, the taste of dirt mixing with the blood. Pain flares up from his shoulder like fire, burning until it’s all he can focus on. He flips onto his back, staring up at the moonless sky as Juniper towers over him.

In the distance, he hears someone scream.

Juniper isn’t much of a talker, it seems. She simply raises her sword high, obviously gearing up for a killing blow. Eugene winces, ready for the hit like all the others before. His eyes slam shut, waiting for the agony-

Only to hear the crack of a frying pan meeting skull.

His eyes fly open as Juniper goes oddly stiff, wobbling for a second before toppling into the dirt. Behind her stands Rapunzel, haloed in the light of the fire. Her pan’s held high as her backlit figure holds itself like a queen.

Beautiful, Eugene can’t help but think.

Time slows, the two of them meeting eyes and staring at the other with a sense of magnetism Eugene can’t place. He feels drawn to her, her fire, her drive, her joy. Something in her calls to him, like a lighthouse on the coast. From the way she stares at him, he thinks she must feel it too.

“Are you okay?” She asks, lowering her pan now that Juniper is well and truly knocked out.

“Fine,” he says. The pink smoke around them is still thick and cloying, nearly impossible to see through. “Fine. Are you and Cass-”

“We’re okay too.” Cassandra. She appears through the smoke, the fuchsia swirling around her like a shawl. “But there’s no sign of the kid.”

“Andrew was going after him,” Eugene gasps out, pushing his aching body off the ground. “We have to get to Varian before he does-”

A sudden explosion of wind bursts from the edge of the haze. Eugene slaps his hands over his ears and slams his eyes shut, crouching down to protect his head as he had learned to do during the chaos after the Blackout. When he opens his eyes again the pink smoke from Varian’s bomb is mostly gone, dispersed by the shockwave. He spins, looking for-

Oh, no.

Andrew stands tall on the airship, the gust being caused by the whirling propellers on the tail end starting up. The man smiles, raising a hand to wave at them as the ship begins to raise into the air on the newly inflated balloon. Andrew’s hand lazily waves, the other holding onto a struggling figure by the wrist.

“Varian!” Eugene hears Rapunzel scream, only just registering what she says past the roaring of adrenaline in his ears. As he blinks away the last of the pink fog that’s exactly who he sees, the teenager shoving at Andrew with his free hand as the airship raises higher into the moonless sky.

“Son of a bitch, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Eugene mutters, already kicking himself into a sprint. He hears the women close behind, Rapunzel shouting insults to Andrew the whole time. The ship’s only a few meters off the ground, but they’ll never make it at their current pace. Eugene’s heart races from the exertion, from the panic, anger, and adrenaline cocktail that comes from seeing Andrew with his nasty mitts on the kid again. The rabbit’s pace of his heartbeat is wild in his ears, drowning everything out as he sprints the twenty-meter distance between them and the airship.

By the time he gets there the ship’s at least five meters off the ground, easily higher than any of them can jump. Eugene only pauses for a moment, staring up at the underbelly of the machine with a sense of dawning horror before Rapunzel sprints past him and snatches a rope that’s dangling off the side of the ship. Cassandra follows without question, grabbing a rope of her own. Seeing their plan is enough to shock Eugene to life again, the man grabbing another line; he can’t help but feel grateful for balloons having to be tied down in order to keep them in place.

Eugene grits his teeth as his feet leave the ground, tugged higher and higher by the raising ship. He doesn’t dare look down as he starts to climb towards the ship, but the way the passing trees start to seem shorter and shorter isn’t a good sign.

Rapunzel and Cassandra climb nearby, the tree of them scaling the ropes towards the main body of the ship. Eugene’s shoulder burns, the exertion of holding his body weight and having to climb causing a strange numbness in that arm. Probably not good, but he’s in it for the long haul that this point. He’ll just have to deal with it later.

Cassandra and Rapunzel are on the two ropes attached to the left side of the ship, Eugene on the right. They all swing like pendulums as they clamber upwards, the wind battering at them. Eugene breathes through his nose, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder as the lower side of the ship draws close, so close-

Cassandra shouts as her rope suddenly gives way, the woman plummeting into the trees below. Eugene sees her manage to grab a hold of a branch a meter down, stopping her fall. Her line falls to the ground, the cut side of it hitting the side of the ship. Cassandra shouts in rage, quickly left behind as they continue to float away.

”Andrew!” Rapunzel barks. No prizes for guessing who’s cutting the lines, then. Eugene behind to push himself harder, climbing faster as the edge of the ship draws close. He hears Rapunzel scream, catches sight of blond hair disappearing into the trees just like Cassandra had. Her cut line swings uselessly in the wind.

“Later, princess!” He hears Andrew cackle, laughing as Rapunzel curses at him from the treeline. Eugene’s only a meter away from the railing, the stress on his shoulder burning.

The ship cracks the treeline at last, bursting from the forest in a sudden boost of speed. Eugene feels the tips of his boots skimming the tops of trees, even as he finally gets a grip on the railing. He hoists himself up with one last pull, forcing his aching arms to bring him up and over the edge.

Eugene’s boots hit the wood, already drawing his sword from the scabbard. It’s easy enough to take stock of the scenario, it’s not like the ship is overly large. The same crates and tools are scattered about the deck, obviously in a state of chaos after the hectic takeoff. The main burner still chugs away in the center, a large plume of flame spluttering from the top and heating the air in the balloon to make it fly. Varian’s knife’s still laying nearby from where the kid dropped it, the light of the burner reflecting off it. The shards from the broken bottle are long gone, scattered to the wind.

And there, on the other side of the deck, stands Andrew and Varian, locked in a scuffle.

The kid’s fighting with everything he’s got, smacking at Andrew despite the sword held in the man’s other hand. The brunet’s got a hand locked around Varian’s wrist, keeping the kid in place even as Varian struggles. Two ropes swing from the railing, obviously Cassandra and Rapunzel’s lines that Andrew had cut.

“Let go!” Varian screams, kicking at Andrew. The man grunts with each hit, though one good kick to the ankle is enough to get him to swing his sword to a stop under Varian’s chin. The kid tenses, eyes darting between the blade and Andrew.

“You,” The man hisses, “Are going to shut. Up. Are we clear?”

“Go to hell!”

“Ha, hell spat me out, try again.” Andrew shakes the kid once before shoving Varian down to the deck. “Don’t give a reason to chuck you over the edge.” He threatens, smiling as the kid flinches.

The second Varian’s out of Andrew’s grip Eugene charges.

The taller man doesn’t even have time to turn before Eugene’s on him, tackling the man to the deck of the ship. They land with a thump, the contact rough on Eugene’s injuries. His shoulder aches, even as he pins Andrew down with a hand. Something in Eugene screams for blood, for revenge, for justice for what he’s done to Varian, to countless others.

There’s something infinitely satisfying as he draws a fist back and brings it down, cracking his knuckles across Andrew’s smarmy face.

In fact, it feels so good he does it again.

Andrew yowls at each punch. Eugene feels flesh give way under his fist, a burst of crimson red blooming under the bruises he leaves. It’s good, the feeling of this bastard’s pain at Eugene’s hands, the feeling of blood and suffering for once caused to those who choose evil.

But it can’t last.

Andrew manages to get Eugene off him, a rough shove sending him backwards and onto the deck. His back hits wood with a thump. Eugene doesn’t pause to think about the aches, flipping onto his stomach and pushing himself up with a grunt. He hears the whizz of a blade through the air, and only just manages to roll out of the way before Andrew’s sword cleaves his head from his shoulders. He keeps the momentum, rolling clean across the polished wood of the deck.

He comes to a stop by a familiar pair of boots.

“Hey, kid,” he says, quickly standing and putting himself between Varian and Andrew. The boy looks dreadful, gaunt and thin in the harsh light thrown from the burner. “How’s it going?”

“Been better,” Varian responds, an exhausted look fluttering across his face even as he borderline hides behind Eugene.

“Fair enough,” Eugene shrugs. Andrew paces in front of them, spitting blood onto the deck. “Got any bright ideas, goggles?”

“I used my last bomb down there,” Varian admits. Shit.

“Hm. We’ll take care of this the old-fashioned way, then.”

“Can you stall him?” Varian whispers. “I have an idea.”

“No, just stay out of it-”

“Eugene.”

He’s forced to look back. Sees those baby blues focused on him, a fire burning deep within them. There’s a light, a determination, that he hasn’t seen in Varian before.

“Please, trust me.” Varian begs, his eyes wide and pleading.

Before Eugene can reply, Andrew makes himself known again.

“Are we doing this today, Fitzherbert?” He tone is demanding, only punctuated by the slight ting of the tip of his sword hitting the ship’s deck. “Or are we just going to stand here and glare at each other until one of us drops dead?”

Eugene’s sword is a heavy weight in his hand.

“You’d better have a plan, kid.” Eugene mutters.

And then, he strikes.

Andrew’s fast, Eugene will give him that, but it’s also easy enough to keep him distracted and away from the kid. If Varian’s got a plan, Eugene would trust him on it. It’s like pulling teeth, allowing someone else to take the reigns and control the situation while Eugene does nothing but distract and put himself in harm’s way, but…

Well the kid had done more than enough to prove his mettle.

Neither Eugene nor Andrew are in top shape at this point. It’s been a long fight, Andrew’s tired, Eugene’s injured. They’re both about as even as they’ll ever get, even as their swords clash in a shower of sparks. It’s obvious in the way that Andrew sticks to circling that he isn’t strong enough to be as offensive as he usually is, despite the fact that Eugene is just as exhausted as he is.

Doesn’t stop him from trying, though.

There’s a few more parries and dodges. Swipes of blades through the midnight air. A block here, a kick there. A splash of blood on the polished wood of the deck. Eugene catches sight of Varian, out of the way of the fighting, fiddling with the burner again. Ah, so that’s his plan, then.

Andrew makes another swing of his sword, yelling with rage. His face is shiny with sweat and blood, his hair dishevelled and wild in the wind. The Saporian looks near feral, bloodied and animalistic as he sloppily slashes at Eugene. Something in him, Eugene thinks with a pulse of fear, has snapped.

“I’m going to fillet you!” Andrew hollers over the wind, “And when I’m done? I’m gunna take that goddamn kid and I’m going to throw him off the ship!”

There’s a sudden whining noise behind Eugene, high pitched and nearly agonizing to listen to. He whirls around, seeing Varian pull his arms away from the burner with a mean smile, the boy facing the two men. His eyes glint in the light of the fire, as does the knife in his hand.

“Hey, Andrew?” He says, quiet and casual, and almost confident. The Saporian sees the knife, sees the burner. His eyes go wide, something almost like fear sparking. Varian raises the knife high, still looking at his abuser with a sudden sense of power.

“Get fucked,” The kid says.

And he brings the knife down.

From where Eugene’s standing he can’t see what exactly Varian hits, but from the resulting scream the burner makes, it must have been important. The burner immediately lights up in a way that seems uncontrolled, fire bursting from the top in a plume of light and crackling flames. They raise high into the balloon, so hot that Eugene can even feel them from three meters away.

Varian runs, leaving the knife embedded in the burner. The kid sprints for Eugene, grabbing the man’s coat and tugging. The fire puffs even larger, and then-

The fabric of the balloon catches.

Andrew lets out a panicked shout as the balloon holding them up quickly bursts into flames, bright and hungry as the canvas begins to turn to ash. The ship gives a sickening lurch, quickly beginning to lose altitude. It’s too slow to be called a drop, but it’s certainly fast enough that the trees they’d left behind quickly begin to skim the bottom of the ship, and then within the blink of an eye they’re coasting through the treeline instead of above it.

Eugene shouts as the ship gives another lurch. The purple fabric of the balloon’s nearly gone now, pockmarked with steadily growing holes as the fire claws at it. Varian screams as the deck beneath them shudders, the ship bashing into a larger tree trunk with a horrible thunk. The platform begins to spin, thrown off its trajectory by the impact. It’s nauseating, the added rotation as they fall, and before Eugene can think he’s grabbing at Varian and tugging the kid close.

On the other side of the ship, Andrew screams in fear. Eugene just catches sight of him disappearing over the edge of the ship, his section of the railing snapping away under the stress of the hit. Eugene holds Varian close, deliberately shielding the boy from seeing as Andrew plummets to the ground.

He’s not sure if the man would survive.

Part of him really doesn’t care.

They’re only a few meters from the ground at this point. One of he lines holding the ship to the balloon snaps; the whole deck begins to list, held only by one side. Varian screams again, Eugene can feel small fingers clutching tightly in his shirt. Fire crackles louder now, with the majority of the balloon eaten away. As the ground draws closer at an alarming rate, Eugene feels a sense of dawning horror.

They can’t stay on the ship.

“Kid,” he shouts, his voice nearly lost to the raging winds. “We’re gunna have to jump!”

Varian lets go of where he’d been clinging to Eugene like an octopus, staring up at the man with barely concealed fear.

“Are you insane?!” He screams. Eugene flinches at the loud voice next to his ear. He chances a look down, sees the ground only a meter away from the belly of the ship.

“Varian, you gotta trust me, okay?” Eugene’s voice is stern, but more so to stay off the rising panic. “We can’t be on here when it hits, it might explode.”

Varian looks shaken, but Eugene can tell the kid knows he’s right. “I- okay.” Varian stutters, “What are we going to do?”

Eugene doesn’t waste time, scooping Varian up. The kid shouts in protest, though Eugene’s momentarily distracted by the fact that Varian weighs about as much as a handful of grapes. The minute we’re out of here, I’m feeding him, Eugene’s thoughts grumble. With the kid secured, he peeks over the railing at the ground whizzing by. He winces, knowing this isn’t going to be pleasant by any means.

“Alright, hang on,” Eugene mutters. He feels the ship shudder again, feels Varian flinch at the harsh noise of another one of the cables snapping under the stress. He looks down once last time, sees a large set of overgrown bushes at the base of a tree. Varian shakes like a leaf in his arms, clinging tightly. Eugene grits his teeth.

And then, he jumps.

The impact is painful, a series of small aches and pains that Eugene knows he’s going to be feeling for over a week. His shoulder burns, the agony of it hitting hard. Varian shrieks as they fall, only to go frighteningly quiet on impact. The bush breaks their fall, but only just. It’s like landing… well it’s like landing on a pile of sticks and leaves. There’s no two ways about it, it sucks.

Eugene rolls with the inertia. The dirt under him is cold, but soft, so at least there’s that to be thankful for. He finds himself borderline skidding along the ground, popping out the other side of the bush with a shout. He feels his grip in the kid loosen, Varian yelping as he rolls to a stop a little ways behind him. Eugene finds himself flat on his back, staring up at the moonless sky. The stars are out now, he notices; small, twinkling lights scattered across an inky sky.

The ship crashes to the ground nearby, a large boom rattling the teeth in Eugene’s skull. It’s a fair way away, though, far enough to be safe.

Eugene takes a moment to pause, let himself breathe. He forces air into stuttering lungs, watching as the stars swim. Everything hurts, but if a limb is hurting that means it’s still attached, which is good.

There’s a rough cough to his left. Eugene rolls over, sees the kid slowly shift, flat on his back in the dirt. Varian lays closer to what used to be the airship, sprawled on his back after probably getting thrown by the force of the explosion. Eugene feels a spike of panic for a second before the kid sits up, his black hair standing straight up, and his face covered in ash. Eugene slowly forces his aching body the few feet towards the kid, already scanning for injuries.

As he draws close, he hears a small litany of shocked laughter coming from the kid as Varian watches the ship burn. The fire spreads quickly, the balloon already eaten away and the wooden structure quickly following. Plumes of white smoke fly from the burning wreckage, thick and cloying in the moonless sky.

As Eugene draws close, he can hear Varian’s laughter putter out. The boy turns to Eugene, his eyes wide with shock.

“I-I may have miscalculated how big the blast would be,” he chokes out.

Eugene can’t help but snort, flopping down onto the ground next to the kid.

“You think?” He asks. The fire burns in front of them, bright in the evening. It’s… well it’s kind of nice, to be honest. Warm, at least. Eugene throws an arm over the kid’s shoulders, drawing Varian closer. The kid leans into him, hugging tight.

“Hey, goggles.” Eugene whispers. He hugs the kid to him, taking a second to press a small kiss to the crown of Varian’s hair. “You did good up there.”

“You were okay,” Varian mumbles. “Might need some more practice.”

Eugene sighs. “Well, maybe your sister will give me some pointers.” He says, feeling the exhaustion of the day sinking into his bones. Varian pauses, pulling back and looking at Eugene with a tilted head.

“So you’ll stay?” He asks, voice laced with a feeble hope.

“For now.” Eugene shrugs, like it’s a casual thing.

Varian smiles brightly. He leans back into Eugene’s embrace, hugging tight. The man returns it, wrapping the kid up in his arms and rocking them, happy to enjoy the moment. Eugene feels himself finally settle, that tight knot in his chest finally easing knowing the kid’s safe. He lets himself breathe, taking the moment to just be content.

Above them, the moon finally peeks out from behind the clouds.

>>>><<<<

There’s something to be said about the quiet of the settlements.

Corona is quaint, simple. Calm. Eugene can walk the streets of it without needing to look over his shoulder all the time, which is a new feeling but not one he’s upset about. Corona is… different from other settlements. Be it Rapunzel’s rule keeping the peace, or the people just generally being good, Corona runs like a smoothy oiled machine.

The streets are paved still, well maintained and swept. He wanders past stores and homes with a sense of ease. Eugene’s been in Corona for a few months now, more than long enough to know where he’s going. It’s been a good amount of time, between getting to know everyone, especially Rapunzel, better, and adapting to working with others, but to Eugene it hardly feels like any time at all.

He used to fear living in a settlement. Needing the support of other people, needing to support other people- being left on his own had always been more appealing, but after being exposed to Rapunzel and her group, after helping Varian out… well he can’t say he misses it.

He comes up to a larger building near the center of the town square, probably what used to be a town hall of some kind. It’s a huge structure, plumes of fluffy white smoke splutter from the tallest chimney and into the bright blue sky. It’s a grand building, made of large stones and heavy timbers, huge even in context of before the Blackout. Eugene hops up the stone steps, taking them two at a time, before pushing the large, oak front door open.

The space within is organized chaos, a myriad of machines and chemicals taking up a lot of the open room. Thick stone walls are covered in different colour mixtures, the results of failed experiments from years gone by. Dozens of tables are scattered around the room, all of them just as cluttered as the rest of the laboratory. It’s anarchy, but obviously a laboratory, lit by a series of large windows and candles placed strategically around.

And there, sitting right at one of the tables in the middle of the room, is Varian.

Eugene smiles, waltzing over. “Hey, kid,” he calls. “How goes it?”

Varian perks up, looking up from whatever it is he’s been building. He’s wearing his goggles, giving him a hilariously bug-eyed look. The kid smiles when he sees Eugene, shoving the goggles up onto their usual place on his head. He looks… better. Great, even. The miserable little slip of a boy that Eugene remembers from months ago is gone, replaced by a heathly, perky teenager. It’s a good look on him, to be honest. Rosy cheeks and bright eyes, fluffy hair and tanned skin.

Varian looks like the kid he’s meant to be.

The boy waves Eugene over, scooting his stool over so the man can get a look at what he’s doing. It’s a mess of wires, all hooked up to a small drum and what looks almost like an engine. A small lightbulb, obviously made by Varian himself, sits in the very center, hooked up to it all.

“Hey, Eugene!” Varian grins. “You’re just in time, I’m about to run trial thirty-seven of the flynnolium, to see if it’s a viable energy source.”

Eugene raises a brow, settling onto his own stool next to the kid. “And how’s it going?” He asks, smirking when Varian blushes.

“Uh,” Varian gestures to the nearby wall, where a new, charred hole is still smoking. “It’s questionable, but this time for sure it’s going to work!”

Eugene nods, watching as Varian fiddles with his invention a little more. It’s like night and day, this new Varian and the one he’d met before. Even if he looked the same, the way Varian acts is almost an opposite of how he used to. Once Andrew was out of the picture, once he’d gotten home and cleaned up and back with his family, the kid had shown the excitement he had rarely had on their little walk.

And with the excitement came the talking.

“See, it’s a steam engine!” Varian says, “Using the flynnolium as a fuel to burn, boiling water, making steam.” He gestures to each piece as he talks. Eugene pretends to understand, nodding along. He’s just happy to see the kid excited, to be honest. Varian keeps chattering, gesturing wildly.

“And look, here,” the kid continues, “The steam turns the turbines, right? And that generates electricity.”

“Wait, like before the blackout?” Is he serious?

“Exactly!” Varian’s smile is wide. “In theory, we could get some lights going, maybe even an irrigation system!”

“Kid… That’s amazing!”

Varian blushes, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I still need to test it,” he mumbles, “So no promises yet.”

Eugene still claps him on the shoulder, encouraging him. “Let’s give it a shot, huh?”

Varian’s face lights back up, the kid pulling his goggles back down onto his face. His smile turns nearly manic as he brings a nearby match close, lighting the compound on fire. It’s controlled, a slow burn. Water suspended above quickly begins to boil, causing steam. Just like Varian had said, a little turbine over the water begins to spin.

A tiny motor made from pillaged car parts begins to whine as the turbine spins, turning the interior mechanism. The flynnolium makes a strange pop noise; Varian cringes back, flinching and waiting for another explosion, but the compound settles down slowly. Eugene steadies him on the stool with a hand to his upper back, keeping the kid upright.

Varian spares a second to smile gratefully, before going back to watching the contraption. Eugene snickers at the way he sticks his tongue out, quickly writing in a small notebook. The engine makes another noise, the whining getting a little louder.

Eugene grins, reflecting. The kid in front of him is going to do amazing things, so long as he had the support to do so. Eugene, as much as he would deny it outwardly, can’t wait to watch him succeed, to mould this new world to his whims. He’s going to do amazing things, with that big brain of his, and Eugene can’t wait to see him do it.

It feels like years ago, when he’d found that skinny, scrappy kid stealing for survival in the wasteland. Before he’d known exactly who he’d been dealing with, when they both were lost to the wasteland caused by those who came before them. When Eugene had been resigned to a life of suffering and scavenging.

It feels like a different life. Eugene smiles, a sudden surge of gratefulness for the kid to his left hitting him like a freight train. Gratefulness to Varian, for showing a bitter old asshole how to have a little hope, a little faith in humanity. A little determination to see a better future. It’s something he didn’t know he needed, but now that he has it, Eugene can’t see himself ever giving it up. Not for anything.

The machine before them makes another strange noise, the container holding the burning flynnolium rattling on the table. It looks ready to explode, to be honest, but even as Eugene’s hands tense, the kid seems confident in his invention. Varian bites at his lip, stressed but determined.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “C’mon.”

Eugene’s hand pats at his back, Varian leans into the touch, his eyes begging the machine to work. There’s a tense silence as the engine whines, only broken by the soft bubbling noises of the water.

And then, flickering in the darkness, coming from the bulb.

Light.

#tangled the series #tts #team awesome #varian #alone we have no future #adios wee ficcy #we hardly knew ye

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jensengirl83 · 4 years

Text

Too Much Moonshine

Dean x reader

Word count-2578

Warnings-smut, a little fluff

Summary- Reader convinces Dean to drink her moonshine with her, leading to an unexpected outcome

Thank you to @impala-dreamer for the prompt.

“Come on Dean, just try it.” I’m trying to get him to try the blackberry moonshine I picked up while we were in Gatlinburg Tennessee for a case.

“I’m not trying it Y/n. I don’t drink the girly stuff, you know that.”

“Dean it’s flavored moonshine, it’s not girly.” My exaggerated eye roll should show my frustration with him.

I have been hunting with the boys for a few years now, in those years, I have developed a crush on the eldest brother. Those bright green eyes, they can melt me to a puddle with just one look. His strong and calloused hands that can be so tender when they are stitching me up. His jokes, yes, his horrible dad jokes, that seem to always brighten my day when I’m down. Well, maybe it isn’t just a crush, but that doesn’t matter, it will never turn into anything. It’s not like I’m exactly his type, I’m short and have a little too much weight on my thighs and hips. Unlike these swimsuit model types he picks up in the bars. Dean will never see me as anything more than his annoying little sister he never wanted, and that’s ok. I’d rather have him in my life as a friend than not at all.

“Sam, tell Y/n that her moonshine is a girl drink.” Dean’s voice pulling me from my inner monologue.

“No Dean, I’m not getting in the middle of this one, and technically moonshine is stronger than the whiskey you like so much.” Sam says passing through the library heading to his room for the night.

“See Dean! Are you really going to leave me up to drink by myself?” I pout my lips and flutter my eyelashes at him, being completely over dramatic, but it seems to work on him most times.

“Damnit Y/n don’t look at me like that. It’s not fair and you know it.”

“Please Dean…..” I know he’s getting ready to crack, his eye roll the sign I have won.

“Fine, you and Sammy with the damn puppy dog face, I swear.” I squeal with my victory and rush to my room to get the moonshine before he changes his mind.

We sit and drink for what feels like only minutes, but, has actually been a few hours. Time always flies when I am with Dean. I’m not sure if it’s just that we actually have a good time together when we can actually relax and talk, or the fact I’m crazy about this man and don’t want the time to end. Either way, I take what I can get when it comes to being with Dean.

“I’ll admit it Y/n, this actually isn’t that bad.” Dean says glancing over at me through those dreamy eyelashes. I would kill to have eyelashes like his.

“I told you! It’s fucking fantastic!” The smile on his face at my enthusiasm has me blushing, I’ll just blame it on the alcohol if he notices.

“You’re fucking fantastic Y/n.” I whip my head around to look at Dean. Did he just say that? I’m not getting my hopes up, it’s just the alcohol talking, but the good buzz I have going is giving me courage I usually don’t have.

“Is that so Winchester?” I smile my most seductive smile, or at least I hope it is, my flirting is a little rusty to be honest.

“It is sweetheart, your one of the most badass chicks I’ve ever known.” Well damn, here goes another you’re just like one of the guy spiels. I was ready to just give up and go to bed until I felt something sliding up my thigh. I look to see Dean’s hand mid-thigh, slowly making its way to where I have wanted his hand for years. The feeling is sending heat straight to my core, my panties already ruined from just his hand on my leg.

“If you don’t want this just tell me to stop Y/n, but I’ve been dying to touch you for a long time.” Dean’s eyes hooded and darkening with lust. I can’t believe this is happening, Dean is finally telling me he wants me and I’m frozen. I can just stare at the handsome man I have been wanting forever.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I should have known you didn’t want this.” Dean’s words break my heart, but I still don’t know what to say, so I just act. I stand up and grab his chair to swing it around to where I can reach him. I drop to my knees in front of him, looking up at the shock on his face while slowly running my hands up his thighs towards his already hardening cock. My mouth is watering, I have always dreamed of what Dean would taste like, the thought making the wetness pool even more between my legs.

“You don’t have to Y/n, I’m not expecting you to…” I cut off his words as I pull his cock out of his jeans and run my tongue up his hard length. He is even bigger than I thought, making me moan at the thought of him filling me up. The vibration of my moan against him has Dean wrapping his hands in my hair as I slowly take the tip in my mouth giving it little kitten licks.

“Fuck baby girl, that feels so good.” His voice low and smooth like honey, making my eyes roll back in my head. This man could make me come without ever having to touch me.

I slowly suck him further into my mouth, as far as I can take him, using my hands on the rest of him. I hollow out my cheeks as move back up to the tip, the groans coming from him are fucking delicious, encouraging me to keep going. Just as I am getting into it, Dean grabs me and pulls me into his lap.

“C’mere…” He growls as he grabs the back of my head, crashing our lips together, his tongue licking my bottom lip asking for entrance, which of course I grant him. Our tongues moving together, fighting for dominance, as he has a death grip on my hips grinding me down onto him.

“You’re already so wet baby, is that all for me?” He says once we break, the need for air winning out. He starts to kiss down my jaw, nibbling and licking his way to my neck.

“Yes Dean, I’ve wanted you so bad.” I whisper, the sensations of his hands and mouth on my body making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“Then why haven’t we done this already?” His hand moves to slide into my pajama shorts and past my panties. His big fingers starting to make slow circles around my clit, causing me to grind my hips down on his hand.

“I….I do..don’t know…But we’re do..doing it now right?” I can barely get the words out, my mind reeling from all the feelings, physical and emotional, that I am experiencing.

“Damn right we are sweetheart.” His lips are back on mine in a bruising kiss, fingers sliding down to my entrance, rubbing so slow and teasing. I arch my back trying to move closer to his hand. I need to feel more.

“Bedroom…now” I growl as I grab him by the short hairs at the base of his neck, kissing his neck, making my mark on him.

“Yes ma’am.” Dean is up and moving before I realize what’s going on. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips. I’m not the lightest woman, I don’t want him to drop me.

“Dean, let me walk, I’m too heavy.” My back is against the wall in the hallway, his hips pressing into my core, I can feel his hard cock throbbing through the thin material of my shorts.

“Hush Y/n, you’re not too heavy, you’re perfect sweetheart. Now let me get us to my room so I can show you how perfect I think you are.” His hand under my chin and his eyes staring into mine has me wetter than I thought possible. How can this Adonis of a man, think I’m perfect?

“O..ok.” That’s all I can get out before we are moving again towards his room. As we reach his door, he pins me back against the wall, kissing me like a man starving. All I can think about is how good it is going to feel to finally have Dean inside me, filling me up, making me come screaming his name. He finally gets his door open, carrying me through the threshold and setting me on my feet while he closes and locks the door.

“You sure you want his sweetheart, we can stop, I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.” I walk to him and pull him down for a kiss on those beautiful swollen lips.

“Yes Dean, I want this, I want you.” That’s all it took, Dean hands were on me, walking me backwards towards the bed. Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, I grab it ripping it over his head. Dean wraps his arms around me laying me back on the bed. He stands back up to pull off his sleep pants, kicking them off somewhere across the room. I can’t help but stare, I have dreamt of seeing Dean naked, his body is even more amazing than I could have imagined. Those muscular shoulders and chest tapering down to his waist, still muscular, but soft too. The V of his hips leading down to those thick bow legs.

“Like what you see Darling?” Dean says with a smirk as he catches me staring at him. He lies down beside me on the bed, running his hand down my chest, teasing my nipples through my bra. I arch my back, needing to feel more.

“No rush sweetheart, I’m going to take care of you.” His voice in my ear as he takes the lobe between his teeth. My shirt is now gone, and his hand is behind my back unclasping my bra. They are both thrown across the room, not really caring where they land. He moves his hand down to my core, sliding his fingers into my aching cunt, slowly moving them in and out while sucking on my breasts, showing them equal attention.

“Please Dean….” I don’t know what I’m asking for exactly, I just want more.

“Shhhh Y/n, I’ve got you.” He starts to finally pick up the pace, moving his fingers in a come-hither motion stroking my g spot. I’m a writhing mess beside him, aching for him to be inside me.

“I need you Dean, I want you inside me.”

“You want me to fuck that sweet little pussy baby? Make you come so hard for me?” I can’t take it anymore, his words sending me over the edge, my orgasm hitting me like lightning. Dean keeps up his ministrations, dragging out the sweet pleasure. Dean slides my shorts and panties down my legs, throwing them with clothes that have already been forgotten about. He moves to cover my body with his, rubbing his cock through my folds, coating himself with my slick.

“You ready for me sweetheart?” he asks as he is lining himself up with my entrance. I grind my hips up trying to get him to slide in, needing him to fill me up.

“Yes Dean, please…please..I need you.” I have never been one to beg for anything, but I have never been so turned on in my life. No man has ever made me feel this way. He slowly moves his hips, pushing his hard length into my heat inch by inch. We both groan as he finally bottoms out, filling my pussy like no one ever has, I will forever be ruined after this. Dean slowly starts to move, pulling all the way out except for the tip, and then all the way back in. I can feel every inch, every vein, my pussy clenching around him at the extreme pleasure.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that darling.” His forehead against mine, both of us panting and moaning with the feeling of his hard cock stretching me to perfection. The pushing and pulling, the grinding of our hips, the feeling of our sweat coated skin gliding against each other, has me close to the edge once again.

“Harder Dean, I’m going to come!” The desperation in my voice making him speed up. His cock is twitching, and his rhythm is starting to falter, I know he’s close too. I grind my hips to match his now brutal pace, my hand sliding between our bodies to rub harsh circles on my clit.

“That’s it baby, play with that pussy and come for me.” A few more thrusts and I come screaming his name, the pleasure shooting through my body like electricity, causing my body to shake beneath him. Dean keeps up his pace chasing his own end. It doesn’t take long before I feel him stiffen above me as he comes with a growl of my name, his thrusts erratic as he fills me with his seed. Dean collapses on top of me, both of us trying to catch our breaths from the mind shattering sex. He lifts his head from my shoulder, looking me in the eyes, the smile on his face bright, actually reaching his eyes.

“Be right back sweetheart.” He rolls to the side, both of us groaning at the loss as he pulls out. He puts on his boxers and walks to the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth to clean me up. It still amazes me how those strong hands can still be so gentle. After cleaning up the mess between my legs, he throws the washcloth in the corner and tosses me a shirt to put on, before climbing back into bed.

“Well that happened.” He says with a chuckle. I look to see his arm covering his face, a for sure sign he is nervous.

“Yeah it did, and I don’t regret a single second.” I try to say with confidence, but I am nervous myself. I have no idea what is going to happen between the two of us now.

“Really? You don’t regret any of it?” Dean is peaking out from under his arm, like a kid who is afraid of getting scolded.

“No, I don’t Dean. If I thought I would regret it, I wouldn’t have done it. I have been wanting you for a long time. I understand if that’s not what you want, but I’ll never….” My words are cut short, Dean leaning over to place a soft and gentle kiss to my lips.

“I want you too sweetheart.” My face lights up with a smile I can’t fight back. I have wanted to hear those words for so long.

“Good, now let’s get some sleep. You wore me out Winchester.” I kiss the tip of his nose and I roll over to my side, Dean curling up behind me, throwing his arm over my waist. As I’m slowly drifting off to sleep, I hear him whisper, “Thank God for too much moonshine.” I laugh as I intertwine my fingers with his.

“Thank God for too much moonshine, indeed.” I whisper back as I fall asleep where I have always wanted to be, in Dean’s arms.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #here be smut #18+ only #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn famdom #spn family

115 notes · View notes

ditch-witches · 4 years

Text

Quarantine (George MacKay Smut)

quick thank you, once again to the darling @iongaa and her gorgeous moodboards. i love you.

requested: yes/no (this made me cry with laughter. also the title was originally COVID-69 so)

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: wordplay, sMuT

word count: 1,609

a/n: This took a friggin ViLLaGe. Like literally all hands on deck including our prodigy, LB, but mainly Hannah writing the slutty stuff.

You warmed your hands as you cradled the mug George sent your way; your eyes tired from the late night as you watched him circle around the kitchen, banging pots and pans aggressively as he went about putting away the dishes. You rolled your eyes as he looked up at you from time to time sighing under his breath as the news streamed on the tv in the corner.

You tied your hair back and pulled your medical blue scrub coat over your matching uniform. "What?" You nipped. He stopped, shaking his head slightly like you were crazy. "Oh my god, what is it?" His irritated expression intensified as he froze, picking up the remote on the counter beside you and turning up the tv volume; his eye contact never breaking yours. You fought not to roll your eyes once again, instead arching an eyebrow in his direction. "Seriously?"

He wet his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. "Still wanna go in?"

"It's not like I have a choice," you snapped. He grunted in response, looking back at the tv as you stepped into your shoes. "Whatever. I'll see you later..." You tossed a look over your shoulder at him. "Unless I'm dead."

He slipped between you and the door, his eyes burning into yours. "Stop being so selfish. There are others that live with you." He gestured to your unassuming dog, too old for his own good. The dog was more of an heirloom than anything.

"SeLfiSh. That thing was old when you were seven, George."

"At least that thing doesn't pick up extra shifts on our anniversary." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger at the sight of your darkening expression. "Fuck, that was uncalled for, I'm sorry."

You pushed past him. "Fuck off," you growled, grabbing your bag and leaving.

George's words echoed through your head while you attempted to carry out your day. You hadn't realized how much he affected you until you almost snapped at a soccer mom convinced her son had Corona. It was really gonorrhea. You were shocked when the message came over your pager that the hospital had to mandatorily switch shifts. You rolled your head on your shoulders, thinking about the drama queen you had to head home to. You took your time driving, the curves in the road being your only solace as different scenarios played through your mind. George had time to think of his ridiculous comebacks and you knew he had an argument ready for you. Your house was quiet, the only sounds being your bare feet against the hardwood as you walked through the kitchen, searching for a sign of life. You heard a bang in the basement, startling you. After finally controlling your heartbeat, you moved to throw the door open and climb down the steps.

You bit back a laugh when you laid eyes on George, surrounded by your "doomsday supplies". He looked at you with annoyance. "What the shit is this?" You averted your eyes as George moved his foot to kick a toilet paper roll across the floor, one of his sweater sleeves covered in dust.

You looked up to focus on a spot on the ceiling. "My question is: Do you think this is water damage?" Through the corner of your eye, you watched him put his hands on his hips.

"Really?"

"Yeah." You squinted, pretending not to know what he was talking about. "How long has that been there?"

"What is this?" His voice raised slightly.

You continued to avoid eye contact. "What do you mean?"

His arms flared towards the mess on the floor. "These fucking cans on the floor. I almost broke my ass-"

You cut him off. "Did you check for another crack?"

His face flushed. "What?"

"Is there another crack in your ass, George?" His mouth opened slightly, you could tell he was already on a short fuse. The beat of silence was once again broken by you. "Do you want me to check for you? I'm a trained professional. I know my way around an ass-"

"No. Shut up, dammit." He sighed heavily. "Any Corona today?"

"No, I sang Oops I Did it Again when I washed my hands," you quipped. He rolled his eyes.

He moved to step over the pile at his feet. "Why do you have to be such a smartass all the time?"

You crossed your arms, matching his glowering tone. "Is that not my best quality?" He shook his head, still annoyed. "Maybe I should just pick up more shifts, huh?"

"I said I was sor-"

"Back to this fucking stain," you commented, lifting your arm slightly towards the spot. He took a few steps to stand in front of you, grabbing your arm in its mid-air position, pulling you against his body. You gasped in surprise. Despite the thickness of his sweater, you could feel the muscular tone of his body. His other hand gripped the back of your neck, knotting in your hair and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

Your eyes widened, then relaxed as you fell into his enticing taste. He broke away and took in your dazed expression as you tugged at his sweater, slipping your hands underneath to rest on his taut abdomen. "I don't think this is very smart," he raised an eyebrow and shot a cocky glance at you, "after all, there's a deadly virus going around-"

You cut him off with a kiss just as provoking as his was, a deep groan rumbling from your partner. His arm snaked down your body to tie around your waist, pulling your hips harshly against his. The friction built, suggesting he was hungry for more. You put a hand on his chest, pushing back. "Should we move this upstairs?" You asked as his mouth danced around your neck.

He paused, stepping away and pulling his sweater over his head, revealing a mosaic of veins and utter lust. "No," he answered roughly, "we're going to do whatever the fuck I want." He looked you up and down, watching your chest heavily rise and fall with heaving desire. Suddenly he took hold of your shoulders, harshly swaying you to the cold, concrete floor. Your hands explored the dust-covered floor as you waited patiently for his next order.

"This floor is filthy." You looked up at him quizzically.

"That's the least of your worries, love," he leered, a devilish grin spreading across his face. He began to make his way towards you. He took a moment to look you over, his eyes hungry, before kicking open your legs. "Take off your clothes." You followed his commands, removing your scrubs, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments. He slowly knelt down, pulling your hips hard enough so you were between his knees, your hands moving to slide up his jean-clad thighs, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes raked you over as you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra as he fought back the urge to help you move faster. You shrugged the garment down your shoulders and held it by the straps dangling it for him to admire.

"There's one piece gone," you jeered seductively. He couldn't take it anymore; he needed all of you right now. He grabbed your knees and pulled you harshly towards himself, making your core ignite with desire.

"Wanna have a taste of something new?" he darkly questioned, grabbing you by your knees and spinning you so your feet were opposite to his. Climbing on top of you and grabbing your panties with his teeth as you reach up to undo his buttoned jeans. He reached up to help pull them off and returned to your panties so you both are fully nude on the basement floor.

"Fuck, it's cold," you inhaled harshly.

"It won't be for long," he whispered cooly, his mouth glazing your inner thighs teasing you. Your hands rubbing his hips. His hands gripped your hips and flipped you so that he was beneath you. Your legs straddling his head and he reached up to caress your back. You ran your hands down his stomach leaning on your elbows and knees next to him for support. Lowering yourself to his lips to feel his hot breath against your core. His tongue slowly ran along your nub causing your head to fall back aggressively. You lowered your head down to insert his cock into your mouth. His hands found their way to your hair and pushed your head down and he thrusted aggressively into your throat. You couldn't hide the choking noises coming from your mouth.

"George," you manage to speak through throaty chokes. You grab his cock and rub your spit down his length, pumping him forcefully against your hand. He continued licking your folds and sucking your clit to your pleasure. You could feel George getting harder and closer to release as he grabbed your hips and spun you back between his knees. Propping yourself up on your hands and knees he grabbed your hips for leverage before slamming himself into you. He continued to thrust feverishly into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand pulling you back, begging you to come closer to your high. Feeling yourself giving into his power you allowed a moan to escape your lips. He pounded into you until you both reached your high and rode it out together.

"So really...Corona..you go it...?" He said breathlessly.

"Yeah," you scoffed slightly before continuing, "only it's COVID-69 coursing through my veins," you winked.

He rolled his eyes. "Stop."

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #george mackay smut #george #george mackay oneshot #imagine #smut #1917 #1917 imagines #1917 imagine #1917 smut #covid 19 #corona

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sweetsickcherry · 5 years

Note

Do you think you could write more sugar daddy Tony and sugar baby Peter? Pretty please

Darling anon, I hope you like this.

Peter is the ultimate Sugar Baby, but very reluctantly at the start.

cw: daddy kink; sugar baby kink; power imbalance kink; manipulative tony; wealth kink; d/s; naive but fiery peter.

Peter is ecstatic when Tony finally gets home from a long day of meetings. He’s only been gone for 12 hours, but Peter missed him so much he ached. Peter meets him at the doorway to kiss him before Tony’s even kicked his shoes off. Has his arms looped around Tony’s neck, whispering, “Missed you,” against his cheek as Tony laughs and carries him into the kitchen.

It’s moments like this that are the best. The little homely moments. When Tony’s heating leftover pasta up and shovelling it into his mouth straight from the pan because he always forgets to eat during the day, while Peter sits cross-legged at the table frowning at the equations in his copy book. Knowing soon they’ll kiss on the couch and go to bed early to cuddle.

The domestic bliss is shattered later when Tony says, “We’ve been invited to the opera next week. Jansen’s coming over on Friday afternoon for a fitting.”

Peter freezes, mid-way through digging a spoon into a new tub of Ben & Jerry’s.

“Since when have we been invited to the opera?”

“Since about three hours ago.”

“Tony, do I have to? The fitting I mean?”

Tony doesn’t look at him, just continues scrolling through emails on his phone.

“Yeah baby, you do.”

“But…”

Peter kicks his legs out petulantly where he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, the open pint of Ben & Jerry’s momentarily forgotten.

“But what? You want to go in your NASA t-shirt and jeans, is that it?” Tony says a little sharply, as he types out an email one-handed.

Peter frowns, bottom lip sticking out.

Tony could be cruel sometimes, especially when he was tired. Usually Peter would curl around him and say something like, “Why so prickly, Daddy?”, peppering kisses along his jaw until Tony would melt in his arms.

But the thought of seeing all those people, the ones who cut through Peter and his clothes, like he’s just Mr Stark’s new boy toy, makes his blood boil.

“I have plenty of clothes! I don’t need any more. What about that polka dot thing you got me two weeks ago? That looks like a swimsuit from the 1920s.”

“That’s summer wear, baby, you know that. We need something season appropriate.”

“Tony, it’s the first week of September. It’s not even cold yet.”

Tony finally looks up from his phone, snapping the case against it. Peter flinches slightly at his dark look.

“We talked about this, Peter. You wanted us to go public with our relationship. And that means coming with me to these events and looking the part.”

“You wanted to go public, too!”

Tony’s gaze softens. He sits back in his chair, surveying Peter’s pinched brow. How small Peter looks in his tiny shorts and oversized Stark Industries tee.

“Yeah, baby, I did. I do. But there are expectations I need to meet. Pepper might be CEO, but I’m still the face of the company and I need to do these things. And I want you to be at my side.”

“But only if you dress me up like I’m a Barbie,” Peter snaps.

“What is this? Lay into Tony hour? If you can’t be mature enough to have this conversation, then maybe you should take a time out and we’ll come back to it later when you’ve stopped being such a brat.”

Peter seethes. It’s moments like this that he feels like a stupid 15-year-old all over again. Not Tony’s partner. When everything they’ve made together suddenly means nothing, and he’s just a boy being berated by his idol.

“If you want maturity, maybe you shouldn’t date a college student,” he says quietly, grabbing the ice cream and jumping down to head to their room.

He thinks Tony might stop him, that he’s about to feel a hand close over his thin wrist, or a sharp “where the fuck do you think you’re going?” but Tony lets him go. And Peter knows it’s dumb but he feels himself start to cry.

Tony gives him 45 minutes to sulk before coming to find him. Peter stares at his book resolutely as Tony leans in the doorway to their room, watching him.

“You like the ice cream then?” He nods towards the half-eaten tub on the bed next to Peter.

Peter nods stiffly. Tony knows Peter has a sweet tooth and keeps the apartment stocked with ice cream, cookies, frozen waffles and pancake mix all for him.

“What flavour this time?”

“Red velvet with cream cheese swirls.”

“Iron Man colours. I approve.”

Peter can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tony always had a real talent to make everything about him.

“I wonder what Spider-Man’s flavour would be,” Tony murmurs as he comes closer, sliding his tie off his neck. “I’m thinking strawberry cheesecake to complement his suit.” He plants one knee on the bed. “Or maybe it could be a Peter Parker flavour. The fluffiest angel food cake you’ve ever had.”

Before Peter can respond, Tony has jumped onto the bed and pulled Peter into his lap. Peter squeaks, tries to elbow him in the ribs and knock him off, but Tony cages him in with his arms. He huffs a quiet laugh into Peter’s neck when he refuses to look at him, then scratches his stubble along his throat. Peter bites back a moan, but can’t stop the tilt of his head.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, angel,” Tony nuzzles against his throat. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

“It’s nothing, forget about it.”

“I said tell me, baby. Tell your mean old Daddy everything.”

“Just didn’t know I embarrassed you so much,” Peter mutters, picking at a loose thread on the pillowcase.

“Darling, you don’t.”

“If you wanted someone beautiful you should have stayed with Ms Potts. Or dated that actress everyone was obsessed with.”

“Peter, you have it all wrong,” Tony says softly, nosing the edge of Peter’s jaw, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind his ear. “The clothes don’t make you beautiful, sweetheart. But they’re expected in the circles I’m in. You know how much I love you just like this.” He presses a hand against the worm cotton covering Peter’s stomach. “My soft, sweet honey boy.”

Peter flushes at the pet names; always does.

Tony’s thumbs his chin around to make Peter look at him, their noses touching.

“Is this pink little pout for me?”

He kisses it then, and Peter sinks against him, sighing softly when Tony’s arms tighten around him, the wet tip of his tongue teasing Peter’s mouth.

They part when Peter lets out a moan.

“It’s not all bad, is it?” Tony whispers, a small smirk on his face. “There are things you like being dressed in.” His eyes trail over to the box at the foot of their bed. The one where they keep Peter’s jewelled collar, plus his harness and toys.

Peter flushes darker, feels the heat in his cheeks bloom red.

“I do like that stuff. When it’s just us. But those people, Tony, they all look at me and it’s so hurtful.”

“Fuck them. You’re radiant.”

“I don’t know…”

Tony cuddles him closer, squeezing his arms around Peter.

“Come on, do this for me. Make Daddy happy. You want that don’t you, sweet thing? Don’t I give you everything you’ve ever wanted? All you need to do is give me this one little thing in return.”

That’s how Peter ends up in the fitting that Friday, being pulled and prodded as Jansen drapes swatches of fabric over him. Talking animatedly about his fashion house’s new Fall collection as Peter tries to keep up, moving his arms and legs dutifully when Jansen tells him.

Tony watches from his place on the couch, legs spread, a glass of scotch resting on his thigh. Lazily trailing his eyes over Peter’s half-naked form.

“I want something sleek, Jansen. Dark. But still romantic. I want him to look like a fucking woodland fawn.”

Jansen ignores Tony’s language, and nods enthusiastically.

“Of course, Mr Stark. It won’t be hard, with your boy’s stature and dreamy good looks.”

Peter blushes. Your boy. Something about the way Jansen talks about Peter like he’s not there, with the way Tony’s watching them, makes him feel light-headed. He meets Tony’s dark look, how he never breaks his eyes from Peter even as he lifts the scotch to his mouth, and he feels hot all over.

“He’s a beauty, isn’t he? He asks Jansen, still not taking his eyes from Peter.

“Oh yes. Your taste in all things is impeccable as always, Mister Stark.”

Peter wants to bite back that he’s not a thing, and Mr Stark doesn’t own him. Instead he blushes even harder, trying to ignore the way his dick is getting hard, how Tony’s words and heavy gaze make his entire body prickle.

“Just be careful, Jansen. Peter’s skin is very sensitive,” Tony smiles, knowing exactly how affected Peter is by all of this.

Peter throws him a mean look and Tony chuckles against the rim of his glass.

Afterwards, Peter sees the note that Jansen left and his eyes almost pop out. It’s an order not just for one outfit, but for coats, pants, shirts, jumpers, scarves and gloves. Entire matching sets and one pieces, just for Peter. He thinks it might be more clothes than Peter has ever owned.

“Tony, you’ve pre-ordered their entire Fall catalogue,” he breathes.

“Hmm?” Tony hums, half listening. “Oh, that? If you’re going to have one piece you might as well have them all.”

“Tony, it’s too much.”

“No,” Tony says slowly, like he’s breaking down a particularly hard equation. “It isn’t.” He pulls Peter against him, the ferocity almost making him stumble.

“When will you learn that I’ll do anything for you,” he says, and the raw honesty in Tony’s voice makes his skin thrum. “Anything for my pretty boy, pretty baby, my little prince.”

Peter melts at that, eyelashes fluttering. Feels himself go again; head floaty, dick stupidly hard. He’s still mostly naked, and he wonders what he looks like pressed up against a fully-dressed Tony. The feeling only intensifies when Tony grabs his chin and kisses him roughly, his beard and mouth rubbing him raw where he stabs his tongue inside him. Peter slumps against him, almost falling, but Tony grabs him tightly. Your boy echoes in his head.

Tony breaks away, making Peter gasp. He tries to follow his mouth but Tony stops him with a quick, firm tsk.

“Now, tell me what you are.”

“Your… sugar baby,” he whispers, face hot, legs trembling.

Tony smiles, shark-like.

“That’s right.”

#starker #ask #my writing #starker mini fic #sugar baby peter

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pangtasias-atelier · 4 years

Note

Ferdinand left the Empire after what happened to his family and when he found out about Hubert's off-the-book executions and assassinations. Even still, Dimitri doesn't trust him, so he keeps a close eye on him. But instead, he notices Ferd gradually getting fatter. One day, he sees Ferd pop a button after eating and it's just too much. Dimitri decides to bring Ferd to his room, forcefeed him until he's ready to burst, then claim that plump Empire butt all for himself (NSFW Drabble)

Sooo, I had a lot of fun with this one ajdnshsms. It may have been just being able to write some simple chub stuff or also just finally getting to write on my laptop but here ya go!

I'm really proud of how this one came out so I hope you enjoy it!!

And the cheesecake portion was a bit based on how I felt eating half a cheesecake sjdkskns

All smut will be tagged #risque

_________________

Strands of golden hair mar Dimitri’s face as his reflection stares back at him. His soft light blue irises of his reflection peer away from Dimitri, the edge of his eyes crinkling as he splashes some more cold water on his face. Nearly deigning the thought of waterboarding himself, the thought tumbles out of his disoriented brain as another crazed and ridiculous scene takes hold of his imagination.

Long rich orange lock cascading down, the seamlessly flawless hair swishes behind its owner as they delicately step forward. Cape forgone, the once well-tailored coat now seems far too tight. The hint of a curvaceous ass bounces under the tight oppression of the mid-knee length coat, each movement and ripple only tempting Dimitri. A dark blue belt embroidered with gold, the obvious intent upon the outfit’s inception had been to elongate and slim its wearer. Now, it only does the opposite, their bulging midsection forced into two, the soft warm pudge from his upper abdomen and lower abdomen squishing to conceal most of the belt altogether. The puff of his enlarged chest makes the opening of his coat seem larger, bulging out further to give it depth. His red cravat rests on top of his chest, as if puffing his chest out. The outline of his adipose filled body rests under it, his arms making the sleeves bulge as well. New folds and wrinkles on his clothes where there once was none, the extra weight the clear culprit, its owner seems unbothered, no upsize or let out seams done to it. Armor unneeded, their blue pants constrict and hold back his squished, compressed legs, overhanging folds of flab visible. The figure turns to Dimitri, Ferdinand smiling and waving at him. Their filled out face only adds to their idiotic charm, their bright eyes and smile illuminating the cold darkness further. A sea of blue washes them away quickly enough.

Grunting, Dimitri’s soaking face heaves. Gripping the edge of the sink, his knuckles turn white, the delicate porcelain emitting a dangerous sharp crack before he lets go. Coughing, Dimitri yanks the nearest towel. Roughly blotting his drenched face, the low sting of the fabric scratching at his face is unnoticeable, the rise and fall of his chest more important. Rising to his full height, Dimitri shifts his efforts on drying his hair. Thin strands eventually fall back into place as they dry, Dimitri tossing the towel away. Taking a deep breath, he exhales, his broad shoulders sagging.

His stomach grumbling, Dimitri heads to the dining room. No sense of taste or smell really left, grabbing something to munch on then leave, sounds ideal.

Finding Ferdinand seated, the idea suddenly feels far less than ideal. The notion of slinking away unnoticed poofs away as Ferdinand spots.

“Ah, Prince Dimitri. A pleasure to see you!” Ferdinand jovially calls from his seat before rising.

Dimitri hopes imagining the cool splash of water helps calm down the heat rushing to his face, Ferdinand’s plump figure just as ripe as his vivid imaginations. In fact, the realization of his own thoughts underselling Ferdinand's figure only makes the rising heat worse.

“Prince Dimitri, are you perhaps unwell?” A delicate yet chubby hand rests against Dimitri’s forehead.

“I’m not your prince, you needn’t worry about me,” Dimitri gently extricates Ferdinand’s hand from his forehead.

“Nonsense, I swore my absolute fealty to one deserving of it,” Ferdinand doesn’t catch the hint, wrapping his arm around Dimitri. “While I must admit, my father may have tarnished our name, I, Ferdinand Von Aegir swear that the name till holds some decency to it,” Pressing an open palm to his soft moobs, Ferdinand bows, his long flowing hair suffering the effects of gravity, the same as his stomach.

To most others, Ferdinand’s words of bravado would sound none other than those of a pathetic socialite wishing to worm their way into whichever upper echelon of society. But to everyone else, Ferdinand’s manner of bearing his entire heart on his sleeve is his charm, the overly enthusiastic noble meaning well.

Originally a part of the Black Eagles house, Ferdinand had quickly become a fixture of the Blue Lions after a few months of Byleth’s cajoling. Upon Edelgard’s declaration of war, he had left for Adestria upon Byleth’s disappearance only to quickly come back upon hearing news of their return. The reunion with his former classmates had been moderately well received, Mercedes and Ashe no strangers to kindness, until Dimitri’s sighting of Ferdinand had nearly left the former Adrestian noble with a spear in his abdomen. With Byleth’s insistence, Dimitri had tsked but ultimately skulked away, his dreadful lumbering footsteps etching their way into everyone’s mind.

Dimitri still partially not all quite there, he had thankfully resigned ignoring Ferdinand just the same as everyone else, a tense uneasy partnership occurring between Dimitri and everyone else. It hadn’t been until much later that Dimitri snapped out of it, slowly easing himself back into the human emotions that he had casted away. And upon gaining focus on his fellow members, Dimitri’s eyes found that removing focus from Ferdinand was proving to be rather challenging.

And while a part of it had to do with his infectious cheerful nature, the other part of his clearly had to do with Ferdinand’s body. Lithe muscle nowhere to be found, the initial realization of enjoying the view of Ferdinand’s heft had led to some confusion before that strayed to wondering how it must feel, so warm and soft.

Which made it increasingly harder for Dimitri to speak to Ferdinand.

“Thank you,” Dimitri clears his suddenly parched throat. “Ferdinand,” Even speaking his name brings a trickle of warmth in his chest, the thought of whispering it to him, the two huddled together, clothes strewn about as-

“Of course. Well, I’m sure you must be famished after our sparring session earlier, you nearly rushed out after we finished,” Hand encapsulating Dimitri’s Ferdinand leads him back to his table, half his plate left uneaten.

The servers immediately bringing, a plate to Dimitri, the serving of chicken with vegetables is barely a spoonful more than Ferdinand’s remnants. Only a couple of bites into the meal, Dimitri’s fork hangs still, midway to his mouth, upon the sound of a dull ping hitting the floor. Reflexively looking around, Dimitri spots the culprit. Careful to not keep his mouth agape, a button on Ferdinand’s coat had popped off, his vest showing.

Ferdinand’s eyes wide, his hands scramble to cover the mishap.

Unable to process anything else, Dimitri stands up and grabs Ferdinand’s hand. Leading him away, Ferdinand’s puffs of complaints and questions draw some attention from the few people littered around the monastery at this semi-late hour. Upon reaching his room, the two step in, Ferdinand highly confused as he stutters out half-baked apologies, too focused on trying to hide the noticeable gap in his coat from his popped button.

Dimitri absorbing the situation, he balks at himself for being so rash. To drag Ferdinand to his room, all for what? For the unlikely chance of something more. And the far more likely chance of making things impossibly awkward between the two. Yet glancing back at the other man, Dimitri finds his worries washing away, Ferdinand staring at him with a sudden shyness.

“I…” Dimitri clamps his mouth, the trapdoor of awkwardness closing and opening. “I think you’re handsome,” His eye shut tight, the ensuing silence drives him mad, the silence unable to be stabbed like most other things.

“You truly believe so?” Ferdinand’s eyes already misting at the edge, his amber eyes remain in tentative shock. He reaches a shaky hand downward. “Despite all this?” Grabbing his stomach, the pile of supple fat only seems larger so up close.

“Because of all this,” Gently laying a hand on Ferdinand’s love handle, Dimtri brings him closer. One arm wrapped around him, the tight embrace allows him to feel nearly every inch of Ferdinand, everything so soft. Leaning down, Dimitri holds up Ferdinand’s chin, his thumb gently rubbing the edge of his lips. With bated breath, his lips crash into Ferdinand’s. The excessive force makes him stumble, Dimitri’s rough hand on his lower back keeping him steady. Huffing, Dimitri pulls back. His face a red shade, the tint is nothing but a red ant to the sun in comparison to Ferdinand’s blazing face.

“I have something I need to prepare. Don’t leave,” Turning around, Dimitri stumbles back at the awkward exit. Professing his love only to leave. Turning back around, he grabs Ferdinand’s hand with his own once more. “Please,” Gently squeezing it, Ferdinand nods, his face not losing a single tint to his radiant red hue.

Slowly making his way back into the hall, the instant Dimitri feels he’s out of ears reach, he rushes. Taking long strides, he scares the poor merchants in the marketplace with his sudden appearance. Knowing the time, the leftover selection from the bakery’s goods for the day are surprisingly still abundant. Nearly reaching for enough money to buy the entire selection, he calms his overactive brain. Setting on a somewhat more reasonable selection, he instead purchases an entire cheesecake.

The cake in hand, it takes all his nerves of dropping the cake to not rush back. Not even having been gone for what can possibly be more than a few minutes, the fear of Ferdinand leaving keeps his pace quick, Dimitri finding himself back in front of his door in no time.

The door nearly slamming open, Ferdinand jumps up. His stomach sloshing about, he gingerly places a hand on it. His eyes avert themselves from the cake in Dimitri’s hands, Ferdinand’s face flushed.

Wordlessly, Dimitri cuts a slice, the huge chunk a quarter of the entire cake. Ferdinand ready to accept, an insistent hand from Dimitri stops him. Grabbing a bit with a fork, Dimitri expectantly brings it to Ferdinand’s mouth, his good eye agape.

“Oh,” Letting out a chuckle, Ferdinand takes a gulp before taking a bite of the cake. His face alighting from the taste, Ferdinand happily accepts the second bite. And then the third. And then each ensuing bite until the slice is finished. Enough leverage allowed from one button already destroyed, the rest remain snugly but securely on his bulging stomach. Dimitri immediately cuts another slice. Ferdinand’s eyes widen, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “I didn’t know you were into…” Ferdinand pauses, considering his words. “Such things,”

Dimitri nearly nods, bringing another bite to Ferdinand.

“If you insist,” Shakily taking another bite, the sweet cool creamy texture of the cake lulls him back to his enjoyment of the delicacy. Unfastening his belt, Ferdinand lets out a sigh before he sits upright, Dimitri’s free hand rubbing it. Another bite offered, Ferdinand keeps at, only slowing down near the end of the slice, both his hands on his own engorged stomach along with Dimitris. “Dimitri,” Ferdinand groans, huffing as he lies down. “I can’t anymore,” Pawing at his own belly, the mass of fat and food rises into the air with each strained breath.

A hand caressing his cheek, Ferdinand lets out an ‘oof’ as Dimitri helps him sit. His gut resting on his plump thighs, Ferdinand merely groans. A hand on his coat, he yelps as Dimitri tears it, the buttons flying across the room. A hand on his waistline, his suddenly unbuttoned pants give him some breathing room. His vest grabbed, Ferdinand obligingly lifts up his arms, the sense of freedom for his aching gut relieving. His undershirt goes next, both tossed into a heap on the floor. A hand tugging at his pants, Ferdinand pauses, resting his hand on top of Dimitri’s. Dimitri’s calm face staring at his, Ferdinand lets him continue, Ferdinand left in nothing but the tight fabric of his boxers.

Resting his back against the wall. Ferdinand continues to groan. Some more shuffling fabric, he keeps his eyes closed until more cake is pressed against his lips. He does, however, ignore the noticeable erection in Dimitri’s pants, Ferdinand somehow redder than before.

Dimitri shirtless, he holds the last half of the cheesecake.Ferdinand huffs. “You love cheesecake,” Dimitri whispers.

“Sometimes there are limits,” Dimitri’s hands not moving, Ferdinand scoffs. “You beast,” But that doesn’t stop Ferdinand smiling as he accepts the heaping bite of cake.

Wishing to get on it, patience not one of Dimitri’s stongsuits, he spears the cake with his fork, heaping portions offered each time Ferdinand almost finishes one bite. His chewing slows down, his swallowing slows down, the smack of his squirrel cheeks slow down, Ferdinand reaching dangerous levels of full.

Bits of cream on his lips, remnants from his dozes of prior bits still remain in his mouth, willing himself to eat more. Swallowing, the bits feel like lead slowly dropping down only to punch his gut on the way there. “Dimitri. I don’t think I can,” Groaning, he smears the frosting with his arm, the pale flesh on his arm jiggling. “Truly,”

“You can,” Dimitri rubs slow circles on Ferdinand’s gut. “Just a few more bites, I know you can do it,” Bringing the second to last bite, Dimitri forcefully shoves it in, Ferdinand struggling to chew it. His heavy breathing coming from his nose now, before he can swallow the last bits, Dimitri shoves the last heaping forkful in his mouth, Ferdinand painfully smacking his tired lips in an attempt to finish it all.

Wasting no time, Dimitri helps Ferdinad rest his back against his bed. Ferdinand’s labored chewing and groans egging him, he quickly disrobes, his slim yet built body glistening in anticipation. Gripping Ferdinand’s boxers, he tugs them off to reveal his own chubbed up dick, the thick shaft of it slowly engorging. Climbing onto the bed, Dimitri rests his knees right in front of Ferdinand’s dick.

Ferdinand finally finishes the cake, his mouth so dry and tired. “I…. ugghhh,” Clinging the bedsheets, his hands go to his bulging midsection as Dimitri lifts up his legs. His moobs squishing into his double chin, his overtaxed stomach rests heavily as the overfilled lump falls down.

Dimitri placing his arms under Ferdinand’s legs, he slowly aligns himself. His dick slick with precum, he slowly enters. Dimitri groans as the warmth of Ferdinand’s hole envelops his dick. Ferdinand right underneath him, his breath turns labored as Ferdinand squirms, rubbing his stomach.

“I’ll take care of that in a bit,” Leaning forward, Dimitri kisses Ferdinand, a trail of saliva sticking as they part. Ferdinand grimaces as his legs bend a bit more than they’re used to at this weight, nodding his head instead.

Unable to wait much longer, Dimitri thrusts into Ferdinand, Ferdinand’s hands now reaching for Dimitri’s back. Ferdinand’s noises sounding under him, the always chipper, bright man simply huffs under Dimitri, biting his lips as he tries to hold back his moans.

Wishing to get closer, Dimitri wraps his arms under Ferdinand, embracing him as he humps him. Digging his head into the crevice of Ferdinand’s neck, Dimitri huffs.

“D-dimitri,” Ferdinand gutturally moans, right into his ear. Cum sticking against his warm body, Dimitri nearly chuckles as Ferdinand cums so early. His body reprimanding him, his knees buckle as he feels himself so dangerously close, his throbbing dick begging for a release. Giving in, Dimitri crushes Ferdinand in his embrace, his soft supple body digging into his muscles.

"Tired,” Dimitri's arms shake. Huffing, he ignores his own seed slowly spilling out of Ferdinand's ass, as he pulls out. Ferdinand exhausted, his belly rises with each tired labored breath he takes. No important task required of him tomorrow, Dimitri reserves the task of cleaning themselves up tomorrow with a warm shared shower. Crawling beside Ferdinand, Ferdinand leans back into Dimitri as his body is cradled in Dimitri's built arms. Spooning Ferdinand, he breathes in his scent, his dreams knowing peace as he dreams of fattening Ferdinand further.

#my writing #risque #risqué #fat!ferdinand #fat!threehouses #male weight gain

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purplellamanator · 4 years

Text

12 Day's of Christmas - Secret Santa Fanfiction

Alright, I know Japan isn´t known for celebrating Christmas as some of us might know it, but I wanted to do something really Christmas’y for you and since it’s a celebration for couples in Japan I thought It would be nice. I might have toyed with some western tradition as well. Hope you still like it and it’ll fulfill your Christmas wish! As you might already know I’ve chosen HeijixKazuha from the couples you mentioned the and decided that they finally get a confession… even if Heiji still has to struggle a little (a lot). Oh and the last parts isn´t beta readed yet~ Sorry ^^,

I hope you’ll like it! Have a happy and merry Christmas dear PurpleLlamanator

Your secret Santa Shelling Ford xxx

__________

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me A murder in a café.

The first snow had started to fall and the soft flakes that slowly coated the city suddenly turned into a heavy snow storm that threw Osaka into chaos. The traffic broke down and the people were fleeing the streets, searching for cover wherever they found it. So they end up, cold and shivering, in a crowded café dripping wet, before they finally found a tiny table for two. Heiji cursed and unwrapped the green scarf from his neck.

“That storm is madness! We’ll be frozen before we get home- and ta end up here of all places,” he grumbled, looking through the tiny cafè that wasn´t only filled with people but it seemed that each free space was covered in Christmas décor of all colors and well - tastes. Between candy canes and Christmas trees were deers in multiple colors (but all of them covered in a ton of glitter), big baubles in cupcake décor and was that a purple pig with a crown? Of course, the storm had to shoo them into this wannabe winter-wonder-land.

Heiji shuddered, partly because he could still feel the cold in his clothes and partly because he felt like sitting inside what must look like a crazy Santa-Claus workshop. With a sigh, he turned to Kazuha, who - to be honest - was the main reason for them being here. She had been shivering from head to toe and while she claimed that she loved the snow and would be happy to walk through a storm like this (crazy as that is) he simply couldn’t bear her trembling any longer. Looking at her now, he could see that it had been he right decision. Her lips had turned from a light blue back to a cherry red, her cheeks were still blushed from the cold wind, and her hair was wet, sparkling in the colorful light of the café. With shining bright eyes and a smile on her lips, her eyes wandered through the room.

“Isn´t that tha most beautiful place, Heiji?!”

“Uh-“ His first reaction was to ask her if she had suddenly gone blind and stupid at the same time, but her eyes, reflecting the thousands of Christmas lights around them, stopped him.

‘Tha most beautiful, huh-?’

Of course, Kazuha loved the foreign traditions, the lights, the decorations and everything… she had declared that it was her favorite season and well… he had to admit that she looked beautiful in the colorful surroundings. So beautiful that a lump formed in his throat. He would tell her about- the thing. Now or… at least during this season, but now would be nice, would be perfect if she loved this place so much, and suddenly the crowded café seemed empty, the decoration and lights well placed and warm, perfect even.

“K-Kazuha listen, I-“

But a scream stopped him mid-sentence.

Heiji froze, his eye twitching slightly while Kazuha had already left her seat, to see if she could help, but there wasn't much she could do.

“Someone call an ambulance!”

One screamed, while someone else declared that it was already too late.

“Oh my God, he’s dead!”

“What’ya waiting for! Come on!” Kazuha’s order ripped him from his thoughts, his cheeks burning, like she’d just caught him doing something he wasn't allowed to. He just stared up at her, while she was waiting for him to move.

“But- a-alright.”

And with a sigh he made his way through the crowded and over-decorated place in order to solve the murder in the little café.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Two hours of frostbite, And a murder in a café!

The wind was icy, but at least the sun was shining, so it seemed that everything went according to plan. He had one month of her favorite season to tell her… that he, kind of liked her - well she knew that of course. They were friends since they knew each other, but well - he liked her more than that, you know like really – oh well, anyway, even with his bad luck it should be possible to confess within a whole month. To find the right spot, time and setting - somehow.

Today, he’d chosen Osaka castle park. The snow was still fresh and clean, so that the whole place looked like it was covered in clouds. He was waiting on one of the bridges and due to the cold wind it seemed like they would have this place for themselves. The water below was frozen, but the ice was still thin so he could see tiny bubbles dancing beneath the thin layer, like hundreds of tiny dancing couples along with the flow of the river.

He’d chosen a spot where they could see the sundown when the white snow would turn into a warm orange and a soft rosé. A smile found its way to his lips, together with a slight blush. Heiji huffed and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. Kazuha was late, even if she always blamed it on him when they weren‘t on time, he knew that it wasn't unusual for her to take a little longer. While the frostbite was already nipping on his nose, he forced himself to wait and enjoy the view.

Well… that was two hours ago.

Two hours of frostbite crawling through his clothes and icy wind blowing in his face.

His toes felt like they were about to roll around in his shoes all by themselves. Well, Heiji could only guess that was what they felt like, because they were mostly frozen by now. The detective’s nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold, nearly glowing in the darkening light. He cursed with chattering teeth.

“Where tha heck is that woman!?”

With numb fingers, he pulled his mobile from his pocket to call Kazuha.

“Hey, Heiji what-“ but her welcoming words were disturbed by his annoyed question.

“Where are ya?”

“What?” The high schooler was confused.

“What are ya talking ‘bout?” However, the fact that Kazuha had forgotten about their date let the corner of his mouth twitch in frustration.

“Our… meeting in tha Castle Park?”

“Huh? But ya told me ta meet ya there tomorrow…” she told him with an audible frown, so that Heiji finally exploded.

“Idiot! That was today!” he yelled.

“Who are ya callin’ an idiot, ya idiot! Ya even texted me tha day and time again, remember?“

“Yeah, ta meet ya here today.”

“No. Tomorrow. Check your messages, ya blockhead.” With that she hung up, leaving him listening to a dead line.

“Oi, Kazuha! Kazuha!” Hattori cursed and switched back to the latest massage he’d send her.

“Darn it! I’m sure she- oh.”

He’d given her the wrong date, or was it him being too early?

“Oh boy…” Heiji sighed - well it was his fault and with her being cranky like that (why did he even like that testy girl?!) he would have to come up with something real good next time.

The Osakan shook his head and looked back to the bright red and blue glowing sky, while the world around him was aflame in a warm and shimmering golden light.

Something real good.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Three stolen purses, Two hours of frostbite, And a murder in a café!

Today was the day, he’d planned it well. He’d found a Christmas market, with little stores selling candy, hot drinks, Christmas trees and baubles besides other rather unnecessary stuff, all bright and colorful – Kazuha would love it. And she did, but other people seemed to like it, too… that was the fault in his plan - there were just too many people. Kazuha still enjoyed the strange market but - it was far from what he would call a date, or romantic or anything like that.

They made their way through the crowd to a little candy store beneath a giant maple tree that was illuminated by fairy lights. He got himself a coffee while Kazuha was trying to choose something from the store. It had started to snow again, but luckily it wasn’t a storm, at least not yet. The soft, icy crystals floated to the earth, glowing in the multiple light of the fairy lights and multiple stores and it seemed like they’d finally found a spot, that wasn’t too crowded.

He blew on the warm coffee in his hands and tried a sip, before the warm white frog from his cup revealed his childhood love, wearing a bright smile. He blushed beneath his green-white woolen hat, but shook his head briefly, eying the candy in her hand.

“What’s that?”

“A candy apple.” Heiji nodded, frowning at the apple, coated in a layer of bright red sugar.

“It tastes great,” Kazuha announced, taking another bite, but the detective was all fixed on the cherry red color of her lips.

“Ah…” he gulped, eyes still on Kazuha’s soft and sweet lips.

“… I’m sure it does.” He murmured, still staring, so that he didn't noticed Kazuha’s confused look, before she waved her hand in front of his face, taking a step closer to him as she did so.

“Hello, earth to Heiji, what are ya mumbling?” He blinked, ripped from his day dream only to find her standing only one step in front of him, her lips still tinted in an inviting red, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her eyes sparkling, reflecting the fairy lights all around them. Heiji blushed rather flustered.

“Well, I wanted to-“ he stammered, his voice breaking when he tried to form a sentence, so he tried again, taking a final step closer to her.

“I want to tell you-“

“My purse! Help! He got my purse!“ The scream made them both jump, before a guy rushed past them, clearly the thief on the run.

“Oh- ya’ve gotta be kidding me,” Heiji groaned, but already started to hunt after the man.

“Kazuha, call tha police, I’ll be right back,” he called, before he stopped by another couple, grabbing the umbrella they carried to use it as a improvised kendo sword.

“Can I borrow that for a second? Thank ya!”

When he finally reached the guy, it seemed like the thief had stolen not only one but three purses that night, and he might have also earned more than one bruise due to the detective‘s date, that was ruined… again.

On the forth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hours of frostbite, And a murder in a café!

This day wasn't going according to plan. Not at all! He had planned to go ice-skating with Kazuha, and now Tokyo’s biggest murder magnet, the angel of death, body dropping guy was sitting between the girls playing the sweet little kid.

They had chosen a self-serving restaurant, offering a giant buffet, with a nice view on the streets of Osaka.

“Alright, who’s up for a desert?” Kazuha asked and pushed herself from her seat along with Ran, who followed with a hesitating smile herself.

“Ya and Neechan go, Ku- kiddo and I are skipping tha sugar today.” Heiji let himself slip deeper into the bench, making it clear that he wasn't about to come along.

“Actually-“ But Conan’s the objection was stopped with a cold glare from the detective of the west.

“Ah no, but thank you, Kazuha-neechan,” Conan chirped with his kiddy smile.

“We’ll wait here, just go,“ Heiji murmured, so that Kazuha nodded and Ran turned to Conan with a warm smile.

“Alright, we’ll be right back.”

Shinichi watched them both go, before a cold voice forced his attention back to his friend.

“Go away.”

“What? What the heck is wrong with you, Hattori?!”

“’s nothing…” the Osakan grumbled, but Kudo’s raised eyebrow was making it clear that he wasn't buying it. Shinichi could see his friend chewing the bottom of his lip, before he finally mumbled something, avoiding his eyes all the time.

“Just… me trying to- well, sort things out and now ya here, with ya all too perfect romantic British confession.”

“Huh?” The boy’s glassed nearly slipped from his nose in surprise, so he had to push it back, before he finally answered.

“So that’s what it’s all about, you’re trying to confess to Kazuha?” He questioned, with a knowing smirk. ‘Again’

Hattori just blushed, turning his gaze away from the boy.

“Well – yeah and ya‘re not helping,“ Heiji grumbled, before Conan rolled his eyes.

“Damn Hattori, this isn't a competition and besides…” he stopped with a sigh, staring holes in the table now.

“My confession was far from perfect, or planned. Damn, we screamed at each other, she was crying and I compared love to a stupid number, before I had to leave her again,” he remembered with rather mixed feelings, before a blush found its way to his cheeks.

“And Kyoto… well that was nice, but the moment was ruined again…” He took a deep breath, looking up at his friend again, with a fond smile.

“So, no matter what you’re going to do, you already won, since you don't have to leave her.”

There was a second of silence between them and Heiji suddenly had the feeling that he’d ben rather unfair – but before he could say anything, Kudo started talking again, with a smirk on his lips.

“Besides, when I planned to tell her it was a total failure, you know that. I had to solve a murder instead,” Kudo reminded him with a dry chuckle.

“Yeah, I know.” Heiji massaged the bridge of his nose, he knew that just too well.

“Just tell her everything and you’ll see it’ll turn out alright,” the boy told him with a knowing smile, which made Heiji raise a questioning eyebrow.

“What are ya - Dr. Love?”

“Oi, I’m just trying to help,” Shinichi objected with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Alright, I know, sorry,” he surrendered with a smile.

“I will try to tell her again as soon as this dark omen hovering over the city is gone,” Heiji announced, but the kid just gave him a questioning look, so the detective was nice enough to clarify his statement with a smirk.

“Namely, you.”

“What!? Come on, I’m not worse than you,” Shinichi huffed in annoyance.

“I beg to differ.”

“You-“

But before the boy’s banter went too far, the girls finally returned, plates full of sweet desserts of all sorts.

“Here we are,” Ran announced, retaking her place beside Conan, while Kazuha was doing the same next to Heiji.

“What have ya two been talking ‘bout?” But her question was answered from both detectives at the same time.

“Nothing”

Later, when they had said goodbye and their friends were already back on their way to Tokyo, Heiji was laying on his bed, reading when his mobile suddenly chirmed, announcing a text message. The detective took the device reading the name of the messenger, before he opened the text.

‘It’s from Kudo.’

Good Luck

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hours of frostbite, And a murder in a café!

The scent of lilies reached his nose and made him smile. He was supposed to meet her at home, her dad was still at work, so they had the place for themselves in order to finish their school project. Heiji thought that the place and time was as good as any and to be honest, at least they should be safe from murders, thieves and what else. But in order to make it a little romantic, he’d decided to get some flowers, what took him and the now rather exhausted und distressed girl from the shop longer than he’d planned.

Roses just seemed too much, too cliché, too obvious - or whatever you want to call it, but the other flowers were either not the color he wanted or he didn't like the meaning behind them. After what felt like hours, he was finally satisfied with the small bouquet of lilies in his hand and was already on his way back. Heiji tugged his woolen hat deeper in his face, leaning against the cold wind, even if he had a little trouble telling whether he was trembling because of the cold or the nervous feeling in his stomach. He was about to cross the road when a group of people caught his attention. His gaze hardened looking to the four guys, who were obviously trying to “flirt” with two high school girls.

“Please, we just want to go home,” they begged, trying to get past the four men, but their way was blocked again by one of them, wearing an ugly smirk.

“Oh sweety, but you haven't told us to whom ya wanna go!” He grinned a foul smile and his friends chuckled, before another one of them wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’ve got a special Christmas present for ya!”

The offer let the bile crawl up Heiji’s throat.

‘Alright that’s it.’ Heiji growled and made a step towards them, placing the flower bouquet on his shoulder carrying it similar to how he would carry his kendo sword.

“I guess they would prefer their own home, without any of you accompanying them.”

The high schoolers looked at him in surprise, before they took the chance that the attention wasn't on them any longer and slipped past them with a murmured thank you, before they hurried away.

“And who are ya?” the fake blond snarled, his lip thinning even more, before he added a special nickname with a ugly grin. “Flower boy?”

Heiji just rolled his eyes, ready to leave since he'd reached his goal, but the one with way too much wax in his sleek and slimy hair stepped in his way.

“Are ya planning ta weave a nice crown out of that?” he laughed, while trying to reach out to one of the lilies, but Heiji slapped his hand away with a growl.

“Hands off!”

But his action caused two of the guys to grab his arms, so that he’d lost the grip on the flowers in surprise. He swallowed; they still looked nice, but it was clear that it wouldn't stay that way for much longer.

“Why should we, ya just ruined our entertainment,” slimy-head argued.

“Hardly, ya faces already did that for ya,” Heiji told them with a dry laugh.

“Alright flower boy, that’s it,” the blonde guy grumbled, before his gaze fell to the bouquet on the ground.

“How nice, it’s a pity that ya dropped them,” he smirked, before raising his foot.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I must. Have. Stepped. On. Some-. -thing!” Each of his words was accompanied with another kick at the poor lilies, before he looked up with an ugly smile.

Heiji just sighed, looking down at his latest plan.

“Ya really shouldn't have done that,” he whispered.

The doorbell interrupted Kazuha’s studies and she made her way to the door.

“Coming!” She opened the door to find her missing school project partner right in front of her.

“Heiji, ya late, what-“ But the high schooler stopped herself at the appearance of her friend.

“Ya nose is bleeding!”

“Well yeah, that and four others,” Heiji chuckled darkly, but winced when that caused him to ache everywhere.

She’d pushed him into the living room, placing him on the couch, and wrapped him (despite his protests) into a warm blanket, before she disappeared to gather something to treat him with.

“Here, I’ve made some tea, how’s ya head?”

“I told ya, I’m fine.” But Kazuha simply ignored him, carefully tending to the wound on his cheek, she was close enough for him to feel her breath on his skin. Well, he had a few bruises and hadn't told her what he wanted to, but all in all the day wasn't all that bad.

‘Not at all.’

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hours of frostbite, And a murder in a café!

The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach, at least that’s what they say.

So, when Kazuha announced that she wanted to try herself making Christmas cookies, he offered his help. After all it was baking not cooking and he couldn´t be that bad in both things after all, right?

Wrong!

Two sheets of burned to crisps cookies later, they knew he actually was that bad, and Kazuha banned him from the kitchen. Not without a job at least, as she’d placed the first plate of cookies in front his nose with a colorful assortment of sweets and warm chocolates to decorate them with.

“Ya can't ruin them with too much chocolate, so they should be safe with ya,” she had told him, before she’d disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving him confused and yes, maybe a tiny bit overchallenged in front of the first plate of cookies.

Heiji frowned and took the frosting bag, filled with warm brown chocolate in his hand, before a smile slowly found its way to his lips. Seemed like he still had his chance to tell her about... his opinion towards her. He'd seen decorated cookies with a tiny message on them everywhere, so it couldn't be that hard could it?

The Osakan picked one of the cookies, looking at it in concentration, thinking about the right way to place his sweet message, before he carefully placed the tip of the frosting bag on it, squishing it carefully, but cursed when the damn thing only left a dark smear on it. It even looked like - ah better not define the appearance of the ruined cookie any further.

‘Damn and what now?’ It was obvious that this kind of decoration was about to raise some questions, so what could he do about-

Crunch.

Heiji blinked when he noticed the sweet taste in his mouth, seems like his stomach had made the decision for him and a good one as well, since there wasn't left any evidence for his deed.

‘The perfect crime.’

Well it maybe was after the first plate of cookies, but not when he’d ruined the sixth. He swallowed his last fail. Atleast they were delicious, even if the cookies seemed to be plotting against him. After the chocolate had been dripping and smeared the first batch of cookies, it had now hardened and left nothing but an ugly heap on them instead of his supposed to be neat handwriting.

He tried himself with the last one, his last chance to make his plan work, well that was before Kazuha entered the room after she’d finished cleaning the kitchen from flour and cookie dough.

“Alright Heiji let's see what ya-” But she cut herself short, at the sight of the empty plates and the clear traces of chocolate at the corner of Heiji’s mouth.

“What have ya done!” she demanded, with her hands in her hips, making him flinch on his spot on the sofa.

“Uh..”

“Where are all tha cookies? Don't tell me-” But his face already answered her question.

“Ya ate them! All of them?” she shirked, reaching for one of the plates that offered nothing but a few crumbs of what she’d been baking all day.

“Uh..” he swallowed, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I can't believe ya ta be that selfish!” That finally pushed him from his stupor, so that he pushed himself from his seat.

“Oi! I didn't do it on purpose, they were ugly that's why-”

“They were what?!”

‘Oh fuck.’ He paled.

“I mean they weren't that good anyway,” he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Ah- really?” Kazuha was about to argue again, before she blinked, looking worried now.

“Uh- no, I mean, yes- I mean, they weren't when I was done with them,” Heiji finally admitted, but not without pointing at the one thing that was responsible for his fail.

“It's not my fault that tha stupid chocolate didn't work!”

“Ya know that ya have ta warm it up in between right? And if something didn't turn out right ya simply could have covered tha whole thing with chocolate, instead of eating every single one!”

He blinked and for a moment there was nothing but silence between them.

“So, can I try again?”

“No way! No more cookies for ya mister.” Kazuha sighed, placing the frosting bags in the warm water.

“Oi, that's not fair!” Heiji whined, but took his seat again, while his friend raised an eyebrow.

“Ya had enough of them anyway.”

“Just because I tried ta solve a problem.”

“Well, ya better stick ta solving crimes.”

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Seven rooms on fire, Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hot chocolates, And a murder in a café!

Kudo was right, they were cursed.

He’d thought he could push his none existing luck again and arranged a dinner date for Kazuha and himself. After all, he knew that Kazuha liked this place, so what could go wrong?

Apparently, everything.

They had just finished their appetizer, and Kazuha wouldn't stop asking him why he was taking her out (she still suspected that he felt guilty for the “disappearing” cookies), but when he finally snapped and told her that it wasn't about that but something he had to say to her she’d suddenly gone silent and concentrated back on their food, without really caring about it.

He could feel her eyes on him from time to time, his mind running, searching for the right way to start their conversation again, or even better - to start the conversation, he’d invited her for. They weren't used to silence, not like this, and it seemed that Kazuha noticed that something was wrong, since it was her who finally broke the silence before he was able to form a sentence at all.

“And… what, what do ya have to tell me?”

Heiji swallowed, taken aback by the sudden question.

But the lump in his throat only got worse when he looked at her again. Kazuha was biting her lips with a faint blush on her cheeks, it was obvious that she was suddenly nervous too, even if she didn´t know what he wanted to tell her – or maybe she did?

Maybe she liked him the way he liked her?

Was she waiting for him to tell her?

Why didn't she say anything?

What if she liked someone else?

The detective shook his head. Trying to calm his racing heart, he reached for her hand, holding her delicate fingers in his own and it seemed that time stood still between them.

That was until an explosion shook the building.

The light went out right after the detonation, leaving the whole restaurant screaming in fear, since no one knew what was going on. Kazuha tightened the grip on his hand when he pushed himself from his chair.

“Heiji! What’s going on?” She trembled and he could see the fear in her eyes when the emergency generator provided at least some light.

“I don't know.” The detective looked around, searching where the explosion had come from and when he finally looked out of the window he saw it. The opposite building reflected a blazing fire, just two floors above them and Heiji cursed when the faint scent of smoke already reached his nose. Kazuha noticed his dark expression and followed his gaze, gasping at what she saw, but before she was able to say anything, Heiji shushed her.

“Don´t. Ya’ll only cause a panic,” he reminded her and Kazuha nodded, her eyes still fixed at the flames reflecting in the window.

“I need ya ta get these people out of here, tell them who ya are and that ya dad called ya or whatever - just see to it that they don´t panic.” Kazuha nodded, but gripped his fingers with both hands.

“What about ya?”

“I’ll see if there is anyone upstairs and get them out.” Kazuha nodded and he slowly loosened the grip of her hand on his own, ready to go, before her soft voice stopped him.

“Heiji-“ She bit her lips, her eyes resting on her feet before she looked up in worry.

“… be careful.”

“Sure.” The detective smiled, nodded and made his way to the stairs. But the only one he did find after he’d stormed through all seven rooms on fire, was the bomber himself, unconscious – who later told the police that his wife had left him a year ago on this day in this restaurant – so it seemed it wasn´t the best place to confess, after all.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Eight peaceful hours, Seven rooms on fire, Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hot chocolates, And a murder in a café!

It was perfect.

He’d brought her to the ice rink he’d like to visit earlier. The whole place was decorated in colorful fairy lights and evergreens, they even had a big Christmas three in the middle of the ice. It was nice, they felt like they were flying over ice, in their warm clothes with a big smile on their lips and he could use the one or other chance to hold her hand, before he had to catch her since she’d been to fast at some point, calling his name, before she landed in his open arms.

“Ah-“ Kazuha blushed, with her cheek on his chest.

“Uhm- thank you.” She murmured and leaned back in order to offer him some distance again, but Heiji didn´t answer, instead continued to hold her close.

Kazuha looked up, blushing again, when she noticed that she could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, but she didn´t struggle to get away from his grip. No, it felt good, warm… and safe.

Heiji took a shivering breath, looking down into her bright green eyes. His heart was beating, fast but strong and despite his mouth feeling dry he managed to hold her hand and finally found the words he’d wanted to tell her for so long.

“Kazuha I – I love you.”

He held his breath and waited for her answer.

The golden light of the sinking sun, brushed her cheeks and the fairy lights all around them seemed to multiply in her eyes when she finally replied him with a soft smile.

“I love you too… Heiji.”

She mirrored his smile, she didn´t knew what he was dreaming about, but after these last day’s he deserved some piece.

“Kazuha-chan, I’m home!” Her father announces, but instead of a warm welcome Ginshiro was greeted by a hiss from his daughter.

“Psst!”

“Huh- What?” He blinked, following her back into the living room, only to find Heiji Hattori solid asleep on his sofa.

“He’s asleep.” Kazuha helped her confused father to understand the situation.

“I can see that, but why?” The officer frowned.

Kazuha shrugged and turned her attention back to Heiji.

“These last days had were hard on him – he came over to help my with a school assignment, but when I prepared everything he was suddenly asleep and-“ Kazuha bit her lip.

‘- I couldn´t bring myself ta wake him.’ She smiled, pulling the blanked back up to his shoulders.

Ginshiro left them, offering to order take out food, so none of them would have to cook. Kazuha nodded and thanked him, before she took a seat beside Heiji, she had to admit that he looked kind of cute like this.

Eight peaceful hours Heiji had to realize that his perfect confession had been nothing but a dream, but when he finally stirred ready to get up he noticed a weight on his shoulders only to find Kazuha who’d fallen asleep waiting for him to wake up.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Nine poisoned mistletoes, Eight peaceful hours, Seven rooms on fire, Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hot chocolates, And a murder in a café!

There was one thing, one cliché Christmas tradition which could be found in every romantic Christmas movie and always seemed to work like a lucky charm.

A mistletoe.

It was an old tradition, that whoever met under the mistletoe was supposed to kiss the other. Heiji swallowed, his head changed color at the very thought alone. Well, they didn´t have to kiss right away, but maybe he could use the tradition to finally reveal his feelings to her and whatever happened afterwards… was up to them.

At least he hoped that that since special charms seemed to be kind of their thing, his cursed luck when he tried to tell her would be reversed by the mistletoe.

He found a place, not far from their school, where they had hung a mistletoe right above a gate, leading to a small park.

This time however he would make sure that Kazuha would be there, so he sort of kidnapped her right after class, dragging her along. Apparently that wasn´t the best idea to since his hears felt like they would start to bleed every second now, terrorized from her questions.

“Heiji, I demand that ya tell me where we’re going!” She whined, before he rolled his eyes again still taking her further.

“I already told ya that’s supposed ta be a surprise!”

“But-“ Heiji stopped her before she could annoy him any further.

“Now come on!” He didn´t slow down until the park finally came into sight, a big smile spreading over his lips.

Heiji stopped in the gateway, a little out of breath by his hurry. Kazuha huffed as well, her breath creating little white clouds. He could feel his heartbeat fasten, her hand was still in his own, and he closed is fingers once more around it, daring to tug her a little closer.

She looked at him in surprise, still not knowing what was going on, but blushed a little since he was to her.

“Heiji what?” Kazuha could feel that he was up to something, he was behaving really strange this month and even now the slight blush on his cheeks confused her.

“Look up.” He smirked knowingly.

He bit his lips when she finally did, his mind going crazy thinking about what was about to happen when she finally saw the little charm right above their heads and maybe… he would even gain more than to reveal his feelings to her. A grin spread over his lips, he would even be a step ahead of Kudo. Heiji took a deep breath, closing his eyes, waiting for what was about to happen, before Kazuha’s somewhat annoyed question broke through his little dream.

“And… what now?”

Hattori blinked in surprise.

‘What?’ But his question was answered when he finally looked up, only to find that his lucky charm was missing.

“I, uh- where is it?”

“Where is what?” Before he could answer Kazuha’s question another voice interrupted him.

“Heiji-kun? Is that you?”

“O-Otaki-keiji?” The high schoolers frowned when the officer made a step towards them.

“What are ya doing here?” The tall officer sighed and shook his head, before he answered.

“We had to confiscate the mistletoe.”

“Huh, what mistletoe?” Kazuha wondered.

“Ah the one-umpf” Officer Otaki’s answer was muffled by Heiji’s gloved hands, who looked at the detective in confusion before his eyes went wide.

“Uh- oh! Oh!” Heiji let go and tried to ignore his bright glowing cheeks while Otaki smiled at him, before he cleared his throat.

“So what’s wrong with it.”

“It’s poisoned.”

“What!?”

So his chance ended in another case, featuring a poisoned mistletoe that left other couples in the hospital, because the wind had caused the poison to flutter down on them. In the end there had been nine of them, spread all over the city and it took the police and him three whole days to put the puzzle pieces together and find the culprit.

Heiji sighed, that much for his hopes for a little Christmas miracle.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Ten icy snow balls, Nine poisoned mistletoes, Eight peaceful hours, Seven rooms on fire, Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hot chocolates, And a murder in a café!

They had to study and he promised himself to focus on that and only that. His parents were out, so they had decided to put their base camp in the living room. It would be their last test before winter break and Kazuha had even brought what was left of the Christmas cookies he’d almost ruined.

Heiji frowned and took another bite of his cookie. Kazuha had left a few minutes ago to get a book she’d forgotten at home. The Osakan sighed and let himself fall back to the carpet stretching his legs beneath the table. There were only a few day’s left until Christmas, maybe he should simply give up. ‘Yea… I guess that would be tha best.’

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it, but with the sweet taste of cookies in his mouth and the clock ticking in the background it was just a matter of time until his temper got the better of him.

“Damn it! What is talking her so long!?”

Heiji cursed and pushed himself from the ground. Kazuha had left through the porch door through their backyard so she should come back that way too. But when Heiji pushed the door open he wasn´t only greeted by a blow of icy wind and snow but Kazuha’s laughter as well. It had snowed a good deal, their whole backyard looked like a winter wonder land. In the middle of it all was his childhood friend, laying on her back in the soft snow laughing joyfully.

He blinked in surprise, making another step to her.

“Oi, what are ya doing?” Kazuha just laughed and stopped her movements to lay there, staring up at the white heaving and the snow falling on top of her.

“I was making a snow angle.” She grinned and didn´t saw that Heiji just raised an eyebrow, daring to question if she’d just gone crazy, but Kazuha just continued.

“Don´t you think that it sometimes feels like magic? Everything is white and looking so clean and soft, while the world we know it seems to be asleep. Maybe that’s what haven looks like.” She rambled in amazement, with a warm smile on her lips.

“It’s beautiful.”

Heiji swallowed and finally could see that she indeed had made a snow angle, still lying there with her own wings of snow, her eyes glittering with joy.

‘It is…’

That was his chance.

The detective bit his lips but when he looked up again, only to be hit in the face, by what was supposed to be his cold white ally.

‘What the-‘

Kazuha had stuck him with a snow ball, now giggling like a maniac at his dumbfounded expression.

Heiji blinked and shivered a little when the snow run down his collar, even though it didn´t take long to provoke a reaction from the detective.

“YOU-!”

“Ya’re going ta regret that!” He cursed and started to form a snowball himself, while Kazuha was already searching shelter behind the next three, where she could form more “weapons”.

Ten icy snow balls later- he didn´t know that she could throw so well- the big speech he’d planned was forgotten, as well as their studies, while he focused on an ice cold revenge.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Eleven hostages screaming, Ten icy snow balls, Nine poisoned mistletoes, Eight peaceful hours, Seven rooms on fire, Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hot chocolates, And a murder in a café!

Heiji groaned and let himself sink into the free chair he’d cast an eye on half an hour ago, when it was still occupied by another annoyed and tired man.

‘Why did I even agree on this?´

Kazuha had vanished in the next changing booth, because after they had been strolling through the crowded shopping mall for the last three hours, searching for Christmas gifts she wasn´t tired, no- instead a dress in a shop window had lured her in and him with her.

She only wanted to try it on, even through she knew that it would be too expensive anyway- so why the trouble? Why even trying it? There was no logic to that- so the detectives mind wasn´t able to understand her actions, not at all.

He sneezed and glared at the Christmas three decorated right beside the changing cabins, it seems that he become allergic to them- what a surprise! Heiji sneezed again and pushed himself deeper into the chair with an annoyed groan.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long!” His grumble joined the sound of “Last Christmas” that was played for what felt the thousandth time.

“Alright-“ Kazuha announced and the curtain of her changing cabin wavered, before she finally stepped outside.

“-here I come.”

Well, she did. Wearing a dark green dress, with some lance here and there and simply looked stunning. Heiji didn´t react- or at least he didn´t notice his reaction, so he wasn´t aware that he stood up and made a step towards her, mouth a gasp, while “Wham!” to give their heart to someone special. He kept staring until Kazuha waved her hand in front of her nose, looking at him in confusion.

“Oi- earth to Heiji! Hello?” He blinked, slightly confused about how he got here.

“Could you please- I mean, could you close it for me?” She stuttered, cheeks glowing a little red, before she turned around exposing her back to her- or should he say, her almost naked back.

The detective swallowed and observed how his own shivering fingers closed the sipper of her dress, carefully not to touch her skin.

“Thank you.” He nodded, still unable to form a correct sentence. Kazuha smiled her cheeks still tined in red, before she took a step back, gesturing up and down herself.

“So… what do ya think?”

Heiji’s mouth had suddenly gone dry, he swallowed before he was finally able to from something similar to words.

“You- ya’re looking-“

But a gunshot stopped him form telling her that she was the most beautiful being he’d ever seen and that he loved her. Instead he looked around to find four man dressed in black with masks covering their faces and guns in their hands.

“No one moves!”

‘Oh seriously?!’ He grunted.

“Kazuha get down!”

So, their shopping trip ended in being held hostage with at least eleven other people until he was able to outwit the man, along with the police. Kazuha however brought the dress back and he knew that his chance to see her in it again, was less than zero.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Twelve missing heartbeats, Eleven hostages screaming, Ten icy snow balls, Nine poisoned mistletoes, Eight peaceful hours, Seven rooms on fire, Six plates of cookies, Five bloody noses, Four eyes to visit, Three stolen purses, Two hot chocolates, And a murder in a café!

Heiji sighed and ignored the cold wind caressing his cheeks and the snowflakes settling in his dark hair. He’d failed.

It was Christmas eve and tomorrow all the sparkle, spirit and wonder would be gone again, along with his chance to tell her… that he loved her.

Maybe it just- shouldn´t be.

Alright, Kudo had taken some tries as well, but not what- eleven?!

At least everything could go back to normal, once this day was over. His parents were hosting a small party for their friends and family and of course Kazuha was there too. Wearing a breathtaking red dress, that was enough to transform him into a stuttering idiot, gasping for air like a fish out of water. All the love and joy all around him was simply too much- why had it been so hard to tell her the truth anyway? It was like he’d been cursed.

He took his chance to get some air, choosing the wide balcony on the upper floor, which allowed him to see a glimpse of the city. The whole neighborhood was dressed in cold white snow, with magical touches of light form the decoration of the different houses.

Heiji took a deep breath, it was calm, peaceful, maybe he would be able to forget-

“Heiji?”

‘Oh darn it!’

“What are ya doing here?” She questioned and stepped on the balcony, tugging her dark purple cloak closer around her body, while he answered with a sigh looking back at the city again.

“Just catching some breath.” Kazuha nodded, before she noticed that he was wearing no coat, his dark green pullover was the only protection against the snow.

“Alll ya catch will be a cold, here take this.” And before the Osakan had a chance to answer he found her warm red scarf around his neck. He blushed in surprise when he noticed the soft scent of her perfume, which still lingered in the stitches.

When he looked up again, Heiji suddenly noticed that Kazuha was still standing close to him, one hand resting on his chest, where she had placed the end of the scarf, staring holes in his chest.

‘K-Kazuha?’ He swallowed when she finally looked up again and immediately dared to drown in her eyes. Silent Christmas music reached them from downstairs, muffled by the snow and while the night was pitch black, the city lights all around them formed their own universe of bright glowing stars in the darkness.

“Heiji, I …” Kazuha started to stutter, it wasn´t just the cold wind that dipped her cheeks into a warm red color.

“There is, something I want to tell you, that wanted to tell you for a while now…” Heiji’s eyes grew wide, he could feel his heartbeat fasten, while it felt like ants were crawling up and down his spine.

No… it couldn´t be… could it?

Kazuha took a shivering breath, her fingers digging into his pullover afraid that he might go, that she would lose him after what she was about to tell him and yet he grounded her and was the reason she found the courage to look up again.

“Heiji I… love you.”

Her words were barely more than a whisper but enough to make his heart stop.

It was like the snow had stopped falling mind air, time stood still only for them while Heiji found himself lost in her eyes. It took the detective twelve missing heartbeats until he was finally able to respond, even though his answer wasn´t what any of them expected.

“WHAT?!”

He shouted, gasping for breath while his now supposed to be girlfriend just looked at him with wide eyes. “You- but- I- HOW?!” Heiji stuttered, she told him- just like that, she told him.

That meant that she loved him right?

Well, that was a good thing.

It was amazing!

But why had it been so easy for her just to-

“Heiji- what are you talking about?” Her voice ripped him from his trance, she didn´t dare to look at him and her voice held an unsteady shiver to it.

“Don´t you- I mean-“ Heiji was taken aback by the sudden tremble in her voice and looked down at her, but Kazuha avoided his gaze, yet he could see that her eyes dared to become glassy and she was biting her lips - Darn it, he’d managed to ruin even that!

“What no- I mean yes. Arg!” He took a deep breath, massaging the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, these last weeks but everything went wrong and now you just-“ The detective muttered, instinctively holding her a little closer. Kazuha just blinked and looked up at him again, only to find his face glowing bright red in embarrassment.

“So that’s what it’s been all about?” She asked with a smirk, remembering his strange behavior and all the “not dates” in the past month.

“Well yeah…” Heiji stuttered. He took a deep breath and brushed a melting snowflake from her cheek, before he continued with a sigh.

“I wanted it to be perfect.” Heiji confessed with a blush.

Kazuha just shook her head with a smile, before she allowed her hand to touch his cheek.

“It is, silly.”

The detective smiled and took her hand into his own.

‘True.’

“I love you Kazuha.”

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

75, but kinda like a secuel to your fic for 3?

halloween is over which means it’s officially that time of year where i watch a bunch of shitty hallmark movies as background noise and imagine newt and hermann in all the romantic scenarios instead........AND revisit all my leftover winter ficlet prompts from last year! the op of the original prompt list has since moved to pillowfort so i’ll link the list from there instead. this one is a sequel to one i wrote last year (one of my favorites of my own imo) w/ cool uncle hermann and hot single middleschool science teacher newt found here

75. our first date is spent walking around our small town holding hands and talking as soft snow falls around us

from winter writing prompts here

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

It gets dark before long, and--following a quick text from Karla informing Hermann she’s finished her errands and is on her way to pick the three of them up--Hermann decides he ought to round up her kids. The string lights hung around the ice rink have flickered to life, and between them, the haze of the falling snow, and the fresh piles of it gathering atop the nearby pine trees, it makes for a strangely pretty picture.

The snow flecking Dr. Geiszler’s eyelashes makes for a pretty picture, too.

“I’ll get them,” he says, when Hermann stretches his stuff limbs with a groan and prepares to trek back across the snow. He stills Hermann with a hand to his arm. He’s still wearing the silly mittens. “No offense, dude, but they’ll definitely listen to me more than you.” He waggles his eyebrows and gestures to himself with his thumb. “Teacher.”

Hermann nods and sags back against the railing. He wasn’t fancying the idea of shaking life back into his frozen joints and shouting himself hoarse anyway. “Thank you, Dr. Geiszler.”’

“Newt,” Geiszler corrects with a wink. “You wanna hang back with me so we can get that coffee? My apartment’s only a few minutes away, I can give you a ride to your sister’s afterwards.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.” Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Geiszler to make good on his invitation. Hermann isn’t the sort who gets asked out on spur-of-the-moment dates, especially not by cute, scruffy strangers; it seemed too good to be true.

“Be a second,” Geiszler says, and then cups his hands around his mouth and bellows, “Hey, guys, over here in five minutes or you’re on lab clean-up duty for all of January!”

This gets their attention. Fast. After a minor setback involving a missing hat (found, as it were, in a snowbank on the other side of the railing), they’re ready to go with time to spare when Karla’s car pulls up at the curb. She rolls down the passenger window while her children (pushing aside shopping bags and flinging in wet coats) clamber into the backseat, and waves at Hermann. “Did you have fun?” she says.

“Oh, loads of it,” Hermann says, sarcastically. Karla grants him a small, amused smile. (You’d be hard-pressed to get much more out of a Gottlieb, really. Hermann often envies her children for how easily mirth comes to them.)

“Well, your torture is over at last,” Karla says. “Get in. I got Indian takeaway for dinner.”

Behind Hermann, Geiszler coughs, and Hermann flushes. He hadn’t forgotten Geiszler--not by any means--but he’s not quite sure how to explain I have a date to his sister in terms that don’t use the word date. Date carries an awful lot of baggage. “Ah, actually,” he says. His voice sounds falsely casual even to his own ears. “That won’t be--necessary. Dr. Geiszler has offered to take me home.”

“Hi,” Geiszler says.

Karla peers around Hermann and narrows her eyes. “You played the piano at the winter program,” she says.

“Sure did,” Geiszler says. “I organized the whole thing, too.”

“Dr. Geiszler is going on a date with Uncle Hermann,” Hermann’s niece informs her mother solemnly.

“It’s coffee,” Hermann says quickly. “Only coffee.”

“Coffee and a ride back on my motorcycle,” Geiszler confirms.

Motorcycle? Karla nods slowly. “Of course.” The window rolls back up, but not before--like he’s still her kid brother, and she’s caught him sneaking out the back door at midnight to meet up with a boyfriend all over again--she calls out “Don’t stay out too late, Hermann!”

Her car peels away.

Geiszler sticks out his hand. Hermann takes it.

The coffee shop Geiszler takes him to is two blocks away on main street, kitschy and tacky as anything from the outside, and has, predictably, closed early by the time they get there. The sign in the window blames it on the inclement weather. Geiszler scuffs his unlaced boot against the snowy sidewalk and groans. “Well, fuck,” he says. “Sorry. I guess there’s always Starbucks. This place rocks, though, I wanted you to see it.”

Hermann gives his hand a consolatory squeeze. “Oh, I don’t need coffee, anyway,” he says. “The cup you bought me at the rink was just fine.”

“The cup I bought you at the rink tasted like shit,” Geiszler says.

“It was fine,” Hermann says.

“Dinner, then,” Geiszler says, peering up the street at whatever still has its lights on. Most of the businesses, Hermann realizes (from the Indian place Karla ordered from, the antique shop, the used bookstore) have closed early tonight. There’s a single diner, equally kitschy-looking, still lit up with neon. “Do you like…” He hums. “...Hamburgers?”

“Not particularly.”

“Neither do I,” Geiszler admits. “What about--”

“How about we just take a walk, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann cuts across. “I’m really not that hungry, and it’s...a nice night.” It is, really: fluffy snow, and old-fashioned lamp posts, and not a car in sight. Geiszler’s rainbow flappy hat and lumpy mittens.

“It’s Newt, dude. Newt,” Geiszler insists, but he links their arms together with a smile.

They make their way back down to the park that houses the skating rink--now also closed for the night--and start down a small, well-lit path. “So what’s the infamous Uncle Hermann doing in all the way over here?” Geiszler says. “The kids said you teach in England.” He nudges their shoulders together and grins. “You don’t exactly sound like a local, anyway.”

“Winter holiday,” Hermann says. “I’ve a month off of work, and nothing to do with myself, really, and I don’t see my sister all too often--well, she thought it’d be good for us if I came to stay. For me. What’s a scientist doing at a middleschool hosting winter programs?”

Geiszler laughs. “The arts are important, man!”

“But a middleschool--out of everything you could be doing--”

“I like it,” Geiszler says. “It’s--I don’t know. Fun. I like teaching kids. Like I’m shaping scientists of the future or whatever.” Hermann hums, skeptically, and Geiszler sticks his tongue out. “Okay, I know that was corny. Shut up.”

They loop the whole of the park, hand-in-hand, and talk about the most inconsequential things: the weather (the first snowfall Hermann’s witnessed this December), their research (Geiszler is astoundingly intelligent, with a comical amount of PhDs), Geiszler’s mittens (personally hand-knitted after all), how much longer Hermann is in town for (until mid-January), how Geiszler ended up at that middleschool in the first place (he moved to town to be near his father, and they were hiring for Earth Science and Music). Their footprints have entirely disappeared under fresh snow when they make it back to the ice rink. It’s far later than Hermann realized, too; the large clock hanging at the front booth reads a quarter past ten.

“I guess I should take you back to your sister’s,” Geiszler says. He points in the opposite direction of where they walked main street before. “I’m down that way. I--”

He doesn’t get to finish, because Hermann (feeling pleasant and bold) leans in and brushes a kiss against his cheek. It’s cold and scratchy with his stubble. “I would like to do this again,” Hermann says, while Geiszler blushes and gapes. His glasses have slid all the way down his nose. Hermann pushes them back up for him. “If you’re amenable.”

“Wow,” Geiszler says, giddily. “Sure. Okay. Hah!”

Then he steps directly onto a patch of ice and slips and falls on his face.

Luckily, he hits the snow, though he does lay there for some time and groan. It’s a bit dramatic. Hermann pokes the small of his back with his cane once he starts to get bored. “Are you alright, Newt?”

Geiszler groans again, though with a distinctly affirmative flair, and rolls over. “You called me Newt,” he says. He pushes his glasses back up again.

“I did,” Hermann says, with a very small smile. Then he shivers. The chilly air has gotten a lot more noticeable now that he’s standing still. “Now please get up and take me home before we both freeze to death.”

“Cool, okay.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #feel free to send some in lmaoooo we've got 2 months #benito-el-gato-con-gorrito

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insfiringyou · 6 years

Text

You visit Suga’s apartment for the first time & he performs oral on you

Contains: Fluff. Tension. Smut. Oral sex.

[AN: Although this scenario can be read by itself, it is a part of our headcanon universe and is imagined with Yoongi’s girlfriend Jeong-sun. Find out more about the plot and chronology of our headcanon universe here] To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here:

RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

Your heart was speeding in your chest as you knocked at the front door. You had been feeling a little sick for the last half hour as you took the bus to Yoongi’s apartment, your stomach somersaulting with butterflies, thinking about the week before when you were last together. As the houses and store fronts rushed past the bus windows, you couldn’t help but recall how he had kissed you in the middle of the bar, as the band on stage played a loud, electric number that thrashed through your ear drums. He had turned to you in the middle of the song, waiting briefly for you to return his gaze, before crashing his lips forcefully against yours, pulling you closer by your hips. You had been completely lost in the moment; uncaring if the crowd around you were stopping to stare as you melted into the kiss, your mouth opening naturally against his; smelling his sweet vanilla-ry cologne as he turned his head slightly to the side and closed his mouth against yours, capturing your lower lip between his and allowing his tongue to touch it briefly as he moved one hand from your hip, up your back and into your hair, pulling you closer. You had no idea how long he was kissing you for; it felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only seconds. When he pulled back, he flashed you a quick smile which made your heart skip in your chest, before turning back to the band on the stage that had started to transition into another song.

He had walked you home that night and you had both chatted away about nothing in particular. When you reached your front door, he hovered for a moment in silence, making his mind up about what to do.

“Thank you for tonight.” You murmured, cutting the slight awkwardness.

He smiled. “It’s no bother, I had fun with you.” Leaning in, he kissed you on the cheek. A sweet, gentle gesture; worlds away from the confident passion of his earlier move. “I’ll call you. I’m glad you are home safe….” He pulled away and watched as you went into the house, making sure you pulled the door handle up to lock the door behind you before turning to leave.

Now, when he answered the door to his little apartment, you could immediately see that he was a little nervous to see you. He pulled the door open a little, peeking through the gap at you, before opening it up fully. Your heart seemed to skip a beat as you gazed at him, dressed casually in a black band t-shirt and ripped jeans. You started to mumble…

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit early. I got the earlier bus and it got here quicker than I thought.”

He smiled casually. “It’s no bother, I wasn’t busy. Please come in.” He moved aside to allow you to enter the narrow hallway. “Do you want me to take your coat?” He asked.

“Thank you.” You muttered vacantly, sliding the thick winter coat from your shoulders and handing it to him, aware that you were both behaving a little awkwardly now that you were alone together. He took your coat and hung it on the clothes stand at the other end of the hall before turning to you.

“I have some beer in the fridge if you want one.”

You nodded. “That would be great.” You followed him down the hall and into the neat kitchen at the end of the corridor. Reaching into the fridge, he took two bottles of beer from the bottom shelf and popped off the caps, using his key-chain, before leading you into the attached living room.

The television was on in front of the sofa playing an American action film starring Vin Diesel. The volume was turned low enough that you could hear each other clearly as you sat side by side on the comfy sofa and briefly clinked your bottles together in cheers.

After a few minutes of small talk, you slipped into a more comfortable and natural form of conversation as you began the feel the buzz of the alcohol working its way through your blood stream. You finished the bottle with a gulp and watched as Yoongi rose to his feet without a word, taking the bottle from your fingers and returning to the kitchen. He came back seconds later with four more bottles and you continued talking; powering through topics of conversation; your favourite movies, your favourite genres of music, who you crushed on as a teenager, what your thoughts were on the current government. While the butterflies had settled in your stomach, you remained transfixed on Yoongi’s face; the way he smiled so openly, his face screwing up in joy as you told a stupid joke. His right hand found yours on your lap and he began to run his thumb gently over the back of your hand, tracing the knuckles and tendons absently as he spoke, unaware he was doing so.

As you began to feel more and more lightheaded and silly, the alcohol slowly taking effect, you could see a slight blush rise to his cheeks and knew he was feeling the same. He eventually got to his feet mid conversation, trailing back into the kitchen and returning seconds later with a square bottle of Jägermeister and two shot glasses. You laughed as he sat down beside you and unscrewed the cap.

“Do you really like that stuff?” You asked with a smirk.

He grinned at you. “Don’t you?” He poured the thick, tar-like substance into both glasses.

“I think I’ll stick to the beer if it’s all the same to you.” You grinned.

“Suit yourself.” He picked up the glass and drank the shot in one gulp, before downing the second glass.

“That’s disgusting.” You laughed.

“It’s not so bad. Taehyung bought me it last week.”

You slipped back into the old conversation naturally, sipping your beer a little more greedily as you felt yourself craving to be kissed more and more. His left hand now rested on your knee as he turned towards you. Eventually, a pause fell over the conversation and you felt as if your whole body was tingling with little jolts of static electricity as you looked at him. His face softened ever so slightly as his eyes traced your face. Almost in sync, you moved your faces towards one another, tilting your head slightly to the side as your lips met softly. He opened his mouth against you to capture your lower lip and his hand moved from your knee to the back of your head, grasping tenderly at your hair as he used his other hand to pull you closer from the hips.

The kiss quickly turned heated as you pressed your tongue against his lower lip, feeling him moan slightly beneath your lips as he brushed your cheekbone with his thumb. His mouth tasted like the sweet, aniseed alcohol he had been drinking and you found it intoxicating. Everything about him was making you crave him more; the way his hands clung to you to him like you already meant the world to him despite only knowing you a few weeks, the way he subconsciously let out a little throaty moan as he kissed you, letting you know how much he wanted you, the way his slightly curly hair smelt of the bubble bath you used as a child…

You let out a breathy whimper as he pulled away from your lips to kiss at your neck, pushing you down slowly to rest on the sofa as he nestled himself on top of you, holding onto the armrests of the chair to keep his weight from your body. You closed your eyes in pleasure, biting your lower lip as he moved from the area just below your ear to your throat, mouth opening against your neck. The feel of his warm, minty breath of your skin and his soft lips against the most sensitive part of your neck seemed to resonate through your body, making you tingle in another, more intimate place. You could not help it as you moaned his name out loud, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

He stopped above you at the sound you made and you felt yourself holding your breath, worried you made a mistake and that you could be taking things too fast. You opened your eyes to see him inches from your face, his sweet breath on your cheeks; face slightly vacant as though pondering what to do next. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you had figured out what you could possibly say to break the silence, he moved himself down your body, turning you slightly by the hips as he slipped off the sofa to kneel on the floor by your legs.

“Yoongi?” You began, but stopped as your eyes met his, the expression on his face unreadable as he moved his head back down to your skinny jeans. Reaching up, he quickly unbuttoned the trousers and trailed his hands beneath the waistband. Without really thinking, you instinctively moved your hips and arse upwards to allow him to slide them down your legs and over your ankles. Without a pause, he reached for your simple, black pair of briefs and tugged them down to discard with your jeans. You felt lightheaded and giddy, your brain still catching up with what was happening when he hooked his arms firmly around your thighs, tugging you further down the sofa and placing your thighs and legs over his shoulders. He spread apart your slick folds with two, long fingers and pressed his tongue firmly to your clit.

Once again, your reaction was a little delayed, and by the time you let out a gasp, he had already licked you a couple of times before moving his tongue downwards, over your sensitive inner folds, to probe at your cunt. You impulsively moved your hips to meet him more forcefully, allowing him to push his tongue further into you. You opened your mouth in a moan, feeling his tongue inside of you, pressing against your tight walls, fucking you. The movement caused your hips to buckle involuntary and he removed his tongue from your wetness and brought one hand up to touch your hip gently, allowing you to squirm against him rather than pinning you down. Moving down, he pressed his mouth against your cunt, kissing your opening with messy, open mouthed kisses and welcoming the flow of juices onto his tongue. He let out a low moan, enjoying the taste of you. He continued this for a few moments before he trailed his tongue back up to your clit languidly and massaged the nub with his plump lips.You felt yourself growing breathless as a stream of juices flowed from you.

You wondered how it was even possible he could make you any hornier as you grasped for your chest, desperately puling one breast from your vest over the cup of your bra and grasping it as you felt Yoongi’s tongue once again return to your cunt, pushing inside firmly.

You opened your eyes which had been closed for a while to watch him between your legs, savouring his enthusiasm as he allowed you to grind yourself against his tongue. The minty-aniseed taste on his tongue caused by the alcohol had started to make your clit tingle and, as though sensing this, Yoongi pulled away slightly to blow a quick, cold stream of air onto your clit. It is too much; you felt your clit and cunt clench reluctantly as he returned his tongue to your clit. He licked you rapidly with a moderate amount of pressure, pressing his warm tongue against your most sensitive part perfectly; focusing his attention on making you cum.

You grasped your breast harder and felt your hard nipple press against your palm as you moved your other hand to curl in Yoongi’s curly hair. Pushing his head even closer to you, your hips began to buckle. He completely allowed you to ride out your impending orgasm as your face scrunched in pleasure and you let out a breathy moan. Pumping yourself harder, you ground your clit against the length of his wet, talented tongue. In reply, he moved his hands to your arse and pulled you against him as you rocked back and forth, your climax shaking your entire body as your cunt dripped with a stream of juices. Your breath began to slow as you milked out the last of your orgasm and he moved his tongue slowly from your clit and licked your entire labia dry. You felt yourself getting more sensitive down there as he finished with a final quick open mouthed kiss to your clit before collapsing backwards against the sofa, his breath almost as heavy as your own.

He turned to face you and glanced at your bare breast casually, his open lips and chin glistening with your juices. Without any shame, he slowly moved his hand to his mouth and wiped the moistness away with the back of his hand before collapsing back against the sofa, facing away from you.

“Well…” You began eventually, trying to break the silence. “That was…”

“Yeah.” He replied monotonously. “It was…”

***

Thanks for reading, please check out our masterlist for more fics and scenarios

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years

Text

Lots of writing! | Writing Update #1

Hey People of Earth!

I have many a things to update. mwahaha

The first of which is this bad boy!

FISHBOWL was a one shot-ish thing I worked on in mid August because I didn't want to write the scene I had to write, but also didn't want to write outside of my universe. Soooo, of *course* your girl wrote herself some more fanfiction because? I mean? Why not!

It’s not unheard of on this blog that I ship (and then, subsequently cannoned) my boyz Lonan and Harrison. I’d written the first chunk of this story on mobile, just in a note, because I’d gotten an idea for some dialogue. (I had the whole story written besides the beginning and end.) The struggle was figuring out how to start the story. I toyed with a couple ideas, writing a million different first sentences. Frustrated that I wasn’t feeling any of ‘em, I shelved the project for the night and went to bed.

The next day, I came back to FISHBOWL, and I looked over the random first sentences I’d jotted down. One caught my eye, and so aha, I found my sentence. (I struggle with writing openings, so once the first sentence is nailed down, I usually am able to get a good flow rather quickly). I wrote the entire thing in one sitting, and while it’s disjointed and weird, I had a lot of fun.

EXCERPTS:

The story itself is basically plot-less since it was only meant to entertain myself, but I think I wrote some cool stuff, and explored a setting (Lonan’s room) with a lot more diligence than I have before.

This excerpt’s first line inspired me to write the rest of this story (lol my only motivation). It’s not even a favourite line, it just helped me wrap my head around the language a bit/gave me the idea to have a fishbowl-lens look on the story.

The bottle is crystal edged. Half drained. A kaleidoscope through his eye.

He passes it over with ease. Harrison can’t tell if he’s done it because he’s drunk, or because he doesn’t want questions.

“My mom likes this shit,” Harrison says, fingering the bottle, like he’s holding a memory and not jade-tinted glass. Careful, so he won’t shatter it. It’s almost like he’s a child again.

I also lluuuurve this next paragraph, just because loppy IS SUCH A NICE WORD. loppyloppyloppy. I just like the personality of the objects in Lonan’s bedroom (because he’s got none). Like his poor depressed lonely fishbowl, poor slothy aloe, poor upset betta.

Harrison watches the fishbowl on the nightstand. He should change the water. It’s aglae’d and forgotten, almost, like the loppy potted aloe on his desk. The blue betta hardly slashes through the water. Ris reaches over and unscrews the pot of pet store bloodworms, sprinkles in a pinch of the pellets. The fish cuts around its browning bamboo stake, and vacuums two into its mouth. Its fins wiggle like ink drops.

This is the last paragraph of FISHBOWL, and I mean, I like her tho?

The betta fish glugs through the water in a flowery whoosh. Bottom feeds the last of the bloodworms. The takeout containers are empty, and rolled onto their backs. Stained rusted orange with dried chili. The aloe plant is still curved instead of straight. Harrison makes a note to water it in the morning. The digital clock bleeds 6:22 in neon cherry light. When it bounces off Lonan’s eyes, they look purple.

So that’s it for FISHBOWL! I had a lot of fun writing this lol. Maybe too much. I must be stopped.

CHICKEN NOODLE is chapter 14 of REWIRED, and to be frank, it was a bit of a pain to write. I’d churned it out after writing a really intense scene previously, and couldn’t really feel into the flow of the words as easily as I’d done before. The first scene took a chunk of time to write, because I wasn’t sure where I was taking it. After finally nailing a concept, I did complete it, and I’m rather happy with how that section of the chapter turned out.

However, lol, scene two is a mess?? In my opinion at least, I did read this chapter to @sarahkelsiwrites last night, and she rather enjoyed it! Because it was SUCHHH a mess, and I had no motivation to write it, I, toward the beginning of the month, adapted the scene to screen.

Stripping back the scene really allowed me to figure out how I wanted it to end (which was exciting!). Obviously, it isn’t a very good screenplay, but it was exciting to have a different take on the scene/focus on a new form to learn instead of self deprecating!

The following excerpt is from the beginning-ish of the chapter and sets up the concept:

Maybe this is how it feels. To be a child, or a fetus, or a cell, or a human, stuck in the womb of a mother. Sloshing in amniotic fluid. Doing little fetal summer saults. Eating what she eats. Drinking what she drinks. That last serving of apple crumble. The remnant touches of cognac stuck to her lips. A dog and a bone, a human and its lung, a plant and its gardener, a mother and her child. Can’t live without her, even when you want to. Bitter dependency.

my favourite parts of this are ‘fetal summersaults’ and ‘human and its lung’ like ooooh. I’m like not 100 on it but I don’t mind it!

PEACH is chapter 15 of REWIRED, and oh boy is she a CHAPTER. I drafted this one as well as 16 over three days (they’re both super short), and I’m shook??

Chapter 14 ends with Reeve saying some *very* horrible things about another character (Emily), and her relationship with our boy Harrison. Because of this, she’s finally decided to check out Emily for herself, and see if she’s really as horrible as Reeve (who’s assumed her to be a Lolita figure), has anticipated.

Here’s an excerpt:

Emily and I sit on her pull out. My mother would haphazardly call it tacky—blue gingham, red quilt—but I almost like it. With its coffee stains, and holes that vomit polyester. Second-hand charm. Maybe Harrison toted it off some suburb’s curb for her.

So this is the final chapter I’ll be updating you guys on (because it’s the most recent one that I’ve written lol).

LOLITA, LOLITA, takes place in short succession after PEACH, and deals with a familiar theme--romanticizing/glorifying a female figure (sorta similarly to Lolita, which contributed to--of course--the title). This chapter is sort of the tail end of the ‘whimsical’ adventure Reeve has had entering Emily’s world, and has a lotttt of French inspiration.

Emily, as a character, does study the French language/culture a bit, and Reeve really clings to this particular detail. I think in a lot of ways, she does this because this is a detail she previously ridiculed (in the line: The kind of girl who learns French in her spare time and smokes essential oils, from chapter 10).

Here’s the first one (I think it’s kind of clunky honestly but I like the idea so when I revisit, hopefully with some editing I can clean it up):

We split a brownie over a glass of Pinot Noir. She says it’s a French thing, and I imagine the bottle emptying on the veranda of a politician’s off coast villa. My lipstick stains the rim of the glass in a ruby porthole. It tastes like fruity hand sanitizer to me.

I also really like the next one, particularly the end. Like with before, I think it’s kinda clunky but I ain’t all that mad:

She’s pulled her hair into a bun. The gold ridge of a bobby pin peaks out from behind a twist. Hiding between the white of her scalp. My nails have dried, now, and she’s gifted me her peach lip gloss, which I wear gracefully on my lips like it isn’t second-hand, but a lavish salve made in Europe. Tested on the eyelids of a fetid rabbit. Warm and licked at on the mouth of a rich young woman. An off brand perfume clings to her throat. The plastic breath of amber and ylang-ylang. I’ve tried to mimic her up-do, but my hair falls, even when I pump it with hairspray. Je suis amoureuse. I should tell her. I am in love.

^^ the perfume in question in my head is like a bootleg version of Chanel No. 5, hence some of the perfume’s classic notes!

The second half of this update deals with Reeve *attempting* to talk to her brother (@Lonan @Lonan). They’ve now migrated to his room, which she notes, is vastly different to Emily’s.

The first excerpt is a line I find kind of funny because a) food b) relatable c) lol Lonan’s ideas for gifts tho d) SAME e) grapefruits ?? f) it’s kind of adorable

He’s brought me half a grapefruit and a spoon. A surrender, or a lost attempt at a gift. The flesh wet, and pink.

like tbhhh grapefruits as presents sounds litttt

The next is actually sort of stolen from FISHBOWL, ha. FISHBOWL takes place in Lonan’s room, so I *very much* stole all the description from there and shoved it into this chapter. oops lol.

His room feels smaller, somehow. I think he’s moved the bed. Or it might be the new coat of paint. The addition of small things, like houseplants, candles, miniature replicas of American landmarks. A wilted aloe plant. A fish bowl. The blue betta inking the water in bored compliance. I think to ask him if he’s made the space more claustrophobic on purpose, but don’t at the last second. Lonan’s never been one to collect clutter.

And lastly! Not my favourite but eh:

I say, “I like what you’ve done with the place,” even though I don’t. “What kind of plant is that? This one?” I get up from my spot on the floor next to him. Touch at the pot next to the watering can. Finger the waxy leaves. Anthurium, peace lily, ficus? Probably a ficus. “I think Mom would like these. You should take a picture to show her later.”

I like the tone of this scene a lot because it’s so dissociative. Almost underwater. It’s kind of a very thin version of my usual style, but I think it works for what I was going for for sure (I hope lol).

So that’s about it for this update! I know it was a lil different, but I hope you guys enjoyed regardless! As always, thanks for reading! :)

--Rachel

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

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thirstae4jimoan-blog · 5 years

Text

Lunch

youtube

;;3rd Person POV;;

It was an average night in the dorm. Jungkook was getting bored and decided that now was an ideal time to stuff his face with whatever Jin was willing to cook for him. He wasn't trusted in the kitchen after the toaster incident. He calmly looked around the dorm for his eomma. Except there was one problem:

Jungkook couldn't find Jin.

The only place he hadn't looked was Jin and Yoongi's room-- which he was forbidden to enter at the moment. This was also, of course, due to the toaster incident. But dammit, Jungkook was hungry and now was not the time for games.

Jungkook slowly inched open the door and found Yoongi sat on the bed, covering a bent over Jin. There was a halt in everything that was happening as Jin and Yoongi both stared at the youngest member with wide eyes. A few moments passed with this awkward silence.

Jungkook was about to leave when Jin finally spoke," Kookie, you hungry?"

"Well yeah," Jungkook replied as Yoongi resumed pulling the string running from Jin's puckered entrance. Jin motioned for Jungkook to join the two. As Jungkook approached, he noticed small beads of candy attached to the string.

"Hyungs, what are those?" He asked in confusion.

"Jellybeans. What else do they look like you little shit," Yoongi responds snapping. Earning a look from Jin.

"Oh," there is a pause as Jungkook takes in the scene. Only then does he notice the thick coating of gel covering the small candies as well as Jin's asshole, "Well, won't they taste bad? Cause of the lube?"

"Of course not baby boy. It's pineapple," Jin replies, a wide smile coming into his lips. He motions for Jungkook to join Yoongi in pulling. The younger obliges cause, hey, he's still hungry and pineapple is one of his favorites.

Soon, snall red balls begin to follow the jelly beans. Jungkook gasps in recognition when he sees them.

"Cherries!" He yells, causing a worried Hoseok to enter the room.

"Kookie, what's wro-" he stops mid sentence as he takes in the scene before him.

"Hoseok, you hungry?"Jin repeats the same line to the man now eyeing the pink puckered skin of the eldest.

"Uh... I guess," he states, joining the others.

The cherries were so enticing to Jungkook as they escaped Jin's chocolate starfish. He slowly leaned forward and began to lick, lick, lick. (Refer to video) This caused Jin to scream out, causing all the other members to come rushing in.

"Oh come on, I'm just trying to fucking eat!" Yoongi complains, not hesitating to continue the steady pull on the string. An apple slowly makes its way out, a satisfying pop following. Jin lets out a needy whine, causing Namjoon to tend to the eldest's front.

The rest of the members gather around and continually pull the feast out of their eomma.

"Jinnnnnnnnn, what is happening? Why is my food sticky?" Taehyung asks, looking at the older, "Jin what is Namjoon doing? Why is your face in a pillow? SOMEONE ANSWER ME!"

At this, Yoongi shoves an apple into the younger's mouth. The apple gets stuck, and therefore Taehyung shuts the hell up. Which is exactly what our favorite temperamental adult wanted.

All while this was happening, a wide eyed boy continued pulling the string. This soon revealed lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese, hamburger, and a bun.

"What the fuck?"Jimin called out while collecting his prizes.

Namjoon, finally done tending to his wife-u, began to pull food," Oh my GAwd I love Salad. Hobi get me some ranch!"

"No need," Jin says, forcing an entire bottle of ranch out his bootyhole.

And this continued for a while.

As for Jungkook, he was sat in the corner licking on some anilingus cherries.

---- OMG they were roommates -Emjay :D

I have a whole bag of jelly beans, up my ass. -Sunnii D.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #jimin #jungkook #v #taehyung #seokjin #jin #fanfiction'#funny #bored #wattpad

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serensama · 7 years

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I love you. Not.

Day 2 of Jumin x MC week: Realisations/ Enemies to Lovers Ahhh Jumin and MC…. how they detest each other…

They hated each other from the moment they saw each other, they both agreed on that much at least. How Jihyun could have a friend like –him - her-… they just couldn’t understand. The sooner he got rid of –him! – her!- the better!

Jihyun met Jumin when they were barely 5 years old, they had history and came from similar backgrounds and upbringings. They shared everyday together in lessons and then spent time after school at each other’s houses. Jihyun met MC when they both first attended a summer art’s camp together, a tomboy caked in mud who played the drums and liked to run around and play. They shared a month of fun and creativity before they were forced to part.

And that would have been fine. Jumin could have accepted that… EXCEPT SHE DIDN’T STAY AWAY. In fact, she asked her parents to move so that she could attend their school because she made a great friend at camp… the girl must have been into witchcraft or something because her parents had agreed. Instead of a Summer friend that only had him for one month at a time- he was forced to share his friend with this classless wench, who made Jihyun laugh so hard his juice would spurt from his nose, made his cheeks hurt from smiling too much and liked to run around and play rough and tumble games that he deplored. What Jumin didn’t realise was that MC hated sharing her best friend with an uptight little boy who could share deep and meaningful conversations about art and classical music with him, knew his family so well he could call them his own if he so wished and she detested the idea that the two were so close they could seem to communicate without even talking.

The two shared pieces of Jihyun and they often wondered who had more of him? Who had more of his heart? More of his time? He was –his! – her!- best friend, and these spoilt children were not fond of sharing.

It was quite fortunate that MC had other friends who attended the academy as well, otherwise the two would have been at each other’s throats every day. It was bad enough that sometimes Jihyun would invite her over to sit with them for lunch or offer her a ride home in his town car when hers was stuck in traffic. He would be stuck smelling her perfume long after she was gone. He hated that. Her godforsaken scent would linger in the air and he was convinced that it stuck in his clothes. It made him feel ill and angry and left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. When would he ever be rid of this foul woman?

She really loved Jihyun, he was like the brother she never had. He was sweet and funny and so full of life- it was unfathomable that his other best friend was such a douche. Honestly. Whenever she saw Jumin from across the yard or had to sit at the same table with him because Jihyun had called him over (it was almost like the boy had no other friends!) it felt like the temperature would cool by at least 5 degrees whenever he was near; his cold, icy demeanour enough to freeze a flame. He was always short with her, rude and dismissive- so she would treat him the exact same way. MC didn’t want to at first, she had hoped they could all be friends, though she later admitted that idea was beyond hope. Eventually the mere idea of even being friendly with that jerk made her want to wretch. She didn’t care if half her friends were in love with him and said he was a true gentleman, she had seen the ugliness beneath that polished, handsome exterior and she did not like was she saw.

Over the years, they had managed a silently agreed upon truce… whenever they were all around each other, they would be civil. They were grown up enough to do that at the very least, but the moment they were left alone without Jihyun to be their buffer their barbed tongues and caustic words would lash out at every which way, no holds barred. They had fine tuned their utter disdain for each other into softly spoken words of insults and behind smiles and laughter, a rivalry fit for polite society. As unpleasant as it was it seemed to be working for them… until….

“What do you mean you can’t go to Australia for the holidays?” MC cried over the phone, staring at her already packed bag. They were supposed to leave the next day, what had happened to change their plans so drastically? “We were meant to go snowboarding in the Blue Mountains! Go climb the Harbour Bridge! Sit on the windows of the Puffing Billy train and let our arms and legs skim along the trees and their leaves?!” “I’m so sorry MC,” he coughed on the other line, his breathing wheezing and rattling, every word he spoke sounded like it took a year off his life to say. “You know I want to go, but the doctor said that the journey there would only make me sicker. I’d be hotel ridden for more than half of our trip- I don’t want to hold you back-” “I don’t mind! I’ll keep you company!” she bargained, knowing full well that what she was saying was absurd.

“Thank you, but don’t worry about me you should go, please.” MC pouted as she looked over to her cute winter coat and beanie that she had prepared to wear on the plane so she was ready to face the winter weather of Sydney and then Melbourne. Her eyes landed on a small blue teddy bear that V had given her when they were only… what… 11? Told her that if she ever felt lonely to give this bear a hug and it would just be like him giving her a hug- it wasn’t, he was just being a sappy idiot, but she hugged it nonetheless. “Well Mr. Hyun- Hyun, want to come to Australia?”

She arrived at the hangar that Jihyun had told her to go to and climbed up the steel staircase, the metal hot under her palm. She had failed to notice the large C & R logo emblazoned on the tail, otherwise she would have never gone up the first step. “You?” she screeched at the 17-year-old Jumin, a sleeping mask already over his eyes to block out the light. Jumin stared at her apathetically like she was a fly that had stowed away on the cabin, then he replaced the mask back over his eyes. “You,” he replied, unimpressed. “What are… what are you doing here?” “This is my father’s plane. I belong here.” “But this is the plane Jihyun told me to go to for our trip to Austral-…” “Caught on then?”

“Did Jihyun organise this? Did he make you come with me?” “Hardly. As if he could. I was already coming with you. The only difference is that now, we are one friend short.”

MC could feel her stomach turn at the prospect of having to spend a whole month with the most disagreeable person she could think of. She’d only seen him smile maybe, four times in all the years she’d known him, she was undoubtedly going to have the worst time of her life. The last Summer vacation that she and Jihyun were going to share during High School was meant to be full of memories to remember, now her final summer vacation was going to be filled with memories she’d need therapy to forget.

It hadn’t been an hour and the girl had sighed forty-two times. Forty-two. At the rate she was going they would run out of oxygen on the plane before they reached their destination. He didn’t know how he was going to last another nine and a half hours with her without having to make up an alibi of where he was in the aircraft when she was strangled to death. Pondering his choices for a moment and realising that there was no way her could explain his fingerprints or DNA on her body, he decided to run a little experiment. One day he was going to be heir to one of the largest corporations in Korea, he would have to deal with and schmooze many people he didn’t like- or even hated- this month-long trip would be a perfect time to practise his skills in entertaining a guest he wanted nothing more than to open the emergency latch on and throw out of the plane. Mid flight. Without a parachute. Over an active volcano. If he could last the trip, he could win over anybody.

“The way I see it-” “Oh, I’m sorry are you talking to me?” she asked, her hand on her chest as she feigned surprise. “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?” he replied, his brow furrowing in irritation. This was not a good start. “Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t think you thought I was real seeing as how you just turned over and went back to sleep the moment I came aboard,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. Jumin groaned inwardly, remember your charm Jumin, your wit and your intelligence. Use them to your advantage.

“I… yes, I admit, as your host that was… very rude of me,” he apologised as he hung his head in mock apology, trying his best to hide his cocky smirk. “I shouldn’t have treated you as such, I am sorry.”

MC gawked at him dumbfounded. In the five years she had known Jumin he had never apologised to anyone, especially not to her, and he’d done some really nasty stuff to her growing up. She squinted at him, not knowing what he was playing at- he was up to something, she just knew it- hell, if he wanted to play nice for a little while, she could too. “I… I shouldn’t have been so rude to you when I came on either, I’m sorry too.”

Jumin smiled. MC nearly fell off the chair. MC smiled back and reached out her hand. Jumin wanted to slap it away, but took it nonetheless. He looked kinder, softer when he smiled- he should do it more often. She was warm and soft, comforting almost, he understood why so many people flocked to her.

Dear God… did I just think something nice about him?

Lord in heaven, she really was a witch.

They hadn’t expected their little plans to backfire in the most spectacular of ways. Once they started to pretend to be nice to each other, they couldn’t stop actually being genuinely nice. She wasn’t a harpy and he wasn’t a bore. Maybe, the trip wouldn’t be the nightmare they had thought it would be. It might actually be fun.

Turbulence struck out of nowhere and MC tried her best to pretend she wasn’t scared, she didn’t want to give Jumin any ammunition to use against her just in case; however, she couldn’t hide her gasps each time the plane would lurch or the way a small whine would escape her lips each time the plane would shake.

Jumin turned around to see the girl holding the armrest so tightly her fingers had gone white, her grasp on that ridiculous bear almost painful. A stir of pity swirled inside his gut as he watched her suffering, he may have been a lot of things but purposefully cruel was not something he wanted to add to his extensive repertoire. Ignoring the fasten seat belt sign that flashed at him, Jumin stood up and made his way a couple of seats back to where she sat with her eyes so tightly shut she didn’t notice he was beside her until he took her hand in his. MC automatically released her teddy bear and clung onto his long, slender fingers, unthinking of whether her grip hurt him or not.

“It’s going to be fine,” he soothed, squeezing back to show her he was right there with her. MC let out a choked breath as she opened her eyes, her lashes littered with little beads of her tears. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, unable to speak with fear, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” “V would kill me if I left his friend alone while she’s distressed,” he replied, casually brushing off his act of kindness. “He would, wouldn’t he?” she smiled, imagining their friend go red in the face as he quietly lectured Jumin about being a good person and helping those in need, even when you didn’t like them. “He… he doesn’t get angry often, but when he does-” “It’s always for a good reason,” Jumin chuckled as he finished her sentence. “I always thought it was funny- I’ve always been bad in turbulence but travelling with Jihyun helped me forget about it, because he was always so bad at flying in general. He would start to sweat the moment he got on the plane, he would read and re-read the emergency procedure manual-” “One time we were going to Japan and he demanded to know where the life jackets were because they weren’t beneath the seats like in the commercial airlines- I had never seen him panic so badly!” Jumin laughed at the memory, his blue haired friend running up and down the plane at eight years old collecting all the spare life jackets and hoarding them beside him.

“I would hold his hand, for the entire flight. I learnt to eat with one hand on planes because Jihyun would never let my hand go,” she hummed as she stared at their joined hands, his thumb stroking the skin on the back of her hand in a soothing motion. “There was a time the turbulence was so bad he refused to let go of my hand, even when I said I needed to go to the bathroom. He looked me in the eye and told me he’d turn around while I went to the toilet… then I told him everyone would think we were trying to join the mile-high club and he let go, so fast-” she cackled, completely missing the dip the plane did as she laughed along with Jumin. They sat there for the remainder of the flight, regaling each other with funny stories that only they knew about their friend, providing insight and depth to a man they were already so fond of- it was… nice. “And then… I did the stupidest thing- I challenged him. Said he couldn’t keep even the hardiest of cacti alive, told him that I would believe he could babysit my pets when he took care of one cacti for one month- the boy was so damn adamant, he bought a whole nursery worth of cacti-” “You’re the reason for his damn cacti infatuation!” he yelled as he pointed at her accusingly, only to have MC grab his finger and cover it with her hand. “As if you can talk! That damned souvenir spoon you got for him during your trip to England started off a weird obsession! I think he’s got like 12 spoons now! FOR NO REASON!” she guffawed as she thought about the weird collection in his drawer.

“Alright, alright, how about we both just agree that we’ve managed to fundamentally detroy one aspect of V equally,” he joked, outstretching his hand yet again, smiling. MC instantly took his with both of her hands and shook it vigorously, grinning to match his. “That I can agree with. To screwing up our best friend!” she cheered lifting up her glass of sparkling water and clinking it against Jumin’s. “Here Here!”

And just like that- through their mutual love, admiration and unashamed destruction of their best friend’s character- did the two mortal enemies finally become, something like friends.

Spending time with each other was actually- nice. Pleasant even. Something neither of them had ever believed to be possible. Jumin gathered his courage and stepped into V’s shoes and to join MC on her walk up the bridge, even standing there in the gusting winds to take a photo with her and Mr Hyun Hyun (“So some part of Jihyun is with us Jumin!”). In turn she sat through an amazing version of Madame Butterfly at the Opera House, Mr Hyun Hyun sitting between them with a program between his paws and a smart monocle over his his button eye (“Very dashing Mr Hyun Hyun, your counterpart would highly approve of your outfit” “Jumin… did you just… compliment my bear?” “He’s well dressed. Why wouldn’t I?”)

During their train ride, Jumin had vehemently wanted to stay seated on his rather comfortable seat but MC had managed to charm him into sitting with her on the ledge, their thighs sandwiched between the bars of the window. They took so many selfies together, completely wrapped up in the scenery and each other… that she didn’t realise that Mr Hyun Hyun had come free from his perch where she had tied him to the railing, to be lost amongst the foliage of the forest forever. Once MC noticed she went into a mad panic, tears in her eyes and ripping at her hair at the loss of such a priceless gift from her friend; she had wanted to jump out of the moving train to reclaim her bear, a part of her childhood and friendship, only to be restrained by Jumin.

“Stop! Are you crazy?! Jihyun would be so furious at you for getting hurt over a stuffed bear! What are you thinking?!” he growled into her ear as she cried into his shoulder, just like a child who had lost their favourite toy. Even with his harsh words and biting tone, Jumin held her close and rubbed her back as she continued to wet his sweater with her tears. Her breathless sobs and the way she clung onto top him made his stomach turn, his own eyes prickling at her pain. Why were they both crying over a damn bear? Weren’t they heading off to University the next year? Preposterous!

MC sat outside away from the other passengers who had swarmed the gift shop upon their arrival back at the station. She pressed the heels of her palms into the sockets of her eyes to physically stop herself from crying as she took deep breaths of the cold air to cool herself off. She must have looked a mess. She always did when she cried.

MC felt the wooden bench creak as someone sat beside her, not too close but much closer than a stranger would normally sit next to someone. A soft weight was put onto her lap just as she pulled her hands away from her face. Sitting there inconspicuously as if it was always there, was a different but brilliant blue blear. MC could feel her lip wobble and her eyes start to water as she turned to Jumin, a small embarrassed smile on his face.

“I know it’s not Mr Hyun-Hyun-” “It’s perfect! I love it!” she swooned as she clutched the toy to her chest, his soft fur tickling her nose as she nuzzled it. She spun her head back to the ebony haired boy as he tried to slide something into a bag surreptitiously. “What’s that?” Jumin flushed a bright red as he dropped the bag and made some undiscernible noises in lieu of actual words. He was flustered! She had never seen him flustered! “N-nothing!” he replied after a moment, failing spectacularly at being unsuspicious. MC quirked an eyebrow up as she smiled, holding out her palm expectantly. She was envisioning candies or some embarrassing key chain saying “I’ve been on the Puffing Billy!” … not a dark grey bear with a smart little suit on like an old-fashioned train conductor. It was just too…

“Jumin… is this… is this you? Is this… for me?” she asked as she examined it closely, it’s bright beads for eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. Jumin turned an even deeper shade of red as he moved further up the seat, his head turning away from her as he muttered a quiet ‘Yes’. MC grinned as she let her index finger run through the soft fur of the bear, as if she were caressing his fringe out of his face.

“I love it! I love him! This is amazing! Best gift ever!” she squealed as she held both bears to her chest, her legs kicking up one after the other like an excited little girl. Seeing her smile and laugh made the tightness in his stomach ease, his heart feel lighter and the corners of his mouth turn into a smile. She was infectious. “Do you hear that V-bear? You have Juju-B as your friend!”

“I beg your pardon!” he objected, spinning to face MC again. “You name him accordingly or I will take him back.” “But Juju-B stands for Juju Bear,” she whined as she held the bears together, moving them from side to side in a happy dance. “It’s not the ‘bear’ that’s the issue- either Jumin or J would suffice if you must shorten it,” he bristled as she nuzzled Juju on the nose, his body feeling like he was about to combust at the sight, like she was nuzzling him through the bear. “Fine, spoil sport. V-bear meet JB, JB meet V-bear.” “You’re a child.” “Cutest one you know!”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Thank you Jumin, I really appreciate it. Thank you for everything.”

When she leant in for a hug that time, without the reason of needing comfort, Jumin felt his heart skip, her perfume once so offensive- now calming, familiar, wanted.

When V looked over their photos from the trip he couldn’t help but laugh. His idiot friends may not have noticed but he did, he was a photographer- it was his job to notice things. The space between them had once been enough to fit him standing in between them, though by the end of the trip they were so close together that not even air could slip through. They always had their hands all over each other, draped over a shoulder, slung around a waist or even touching the other’s face (okay yes, to encourage them to make a stupid face at the camera but the Jumin and MC he knew would have gnawed their hands off at the wrist before touching each other.) The trip was good for them. He was very happy to have spent it alone in his room reading, completely healthy.

He figured they were either going to come back from this trip the best of friends or come back with a burning hate in their souls vowing vengeance… which in his experience of the last five years would have been only slightly more exasperating. Turns out, they came back from the trip the best of… the best. Now if only they could see it themselves.

V chuckled as he saw a blurry photo that only Jumin could have taken, MC asleep on the way back to Korea, a little black suited bear firmly in her grasp, the little blue bear still poking out of her handbag.

My friends are idiots.

“So did you hear, V finally got himself a girlfriend,” MC remarked as they sat in the park to eat lunch between their classes in University. It was odd not seeing each other everyday during school so they decided they would catch up for lunch and study together at Jumin’s house since his father was never home and he had the more extensive library. “Mhmm, Rika’s her name- I’ve met her a few times, she’s nice,” he replied after he swallowed a bite of his food, dabbing at the corner of his lips with a napkin. “Ahh Rika and V, aren’t you scared that she’s going to steal him away from you?” she teased knowingly, waiting to see the unimpressed look he so often gave her when she teased him. Ahh there it is! Right on cue Juju, right on cue.

“Well if you didn’t manage to completely steal my best friend from me, I don’t think I have anything to worry about,” he admitted as he dropped a cut of his meal onto her plate, knowing that she loved this particular chicken dish his chef had packed for them. “I could have stolen him, if I really wanted you know,” she pouted as shoved the piece he cut off into her mouth, trying her best not to moan at the delicious flavours that dances across her palate. “But I didn’t want to leave you all alone, that would have been too sad Juju.”

“Right. Be that as it may. He is my friend, my best friend-” “One of your best friends-” she corrected. “Yes, fine, one of my best friends. I just want to see him happy,” he said decisively, thinking his friend seemed a little lonelier now that he and MC were off to University without him and spending more time together. It would be good for him to have someone like he had with… what the hell was he thinking?

MC nodded as she chewed, thinking over what Jumin had said; it was true, Jihyun deserved to have as much happiness in his life and she knew that he would make the very best boyfriend. He was kind and attentive, calm and had a good heart- just like Jumin.

“He’s taking her hiking so they can take photos together,” Jumin added to kill the silence between them, both overthinking and ruminating over their unspoken thoughts. “First dates should be about getting to know each other, sitting down, drinking a fine wine and good food-” “Oh that sounds nice! We should do that! We should all go on a double date with them!” she quipped excitedly, not quite realising what she had said. It only took a second before her words came back to her, the horror flashing over her face. Had she labelled them as a couple? They weren’t even dating! They were friends! Just. Friends. She looked over to Jumin who had stopped mid-way from cutting another piece of chicken off to give to her, his expression stoic and seemingly unfazed. Inside he was screaming. They were friends. Just, friends.

“I… I just realised the time… I’m so sorry Jumin, I have to go… running late for a lab… I’ll… I’ll see you!” she lied as she quickly packed up her things and ran off into the crowd, hoping to gain some distance before he ran after her to drill it into her thick head that they were only friends, nothing more, never would be.

MC stopped abruptly, almost causing another student to crash into her.

Why did it hurt to think they would never be anything more? They were in a good place as it was, they hung out, laughed and understood each other. So what if he never held her apart from a platonic hug? So what if he never caressed her face with those beautiful hands of his? So what if those plump lips of his never graced her own? Never tasted her skin? Never whispered sweet nothings into her ear?

So what?

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

She wanted it. She wanted it all. She wanted more.

She wanted him. MC didn’t know when she had stopped thinking of Jumin as a friend, didn’t care when her heart had decided upon betraying her. All she knew was now that she knew, she couldn’t just forget. She was in love with him, utterly and completely, and that was terrifying.

She didn’t want to lose her best friend.

… One of her best friends.

Jumin hadn’t attended the rest of his classes. Which was odd. He went when he was told that his father was about to have a trial separation from his stepmother. He went when he was near delirious with fever. He went even during a blistering heat wave, only he and his professor were the ones in class. So for him to not attend, something catastrophic must have happened.

But no, he was stuck on the ground, the food that they were eating still spread around him and starting to attract insects. He didn’t even care. His mind was reeling, a thousand thoughts bombarding him, his brain unable to keep up with each train of thought that raced through his head.

Double date? She said that right? For me and her to go on a double date with V and Rika. I’m sure that’s what she said. Perhaps she meant it platonically? Yes, she must have. She doesn’t think of me that way. Nor I her. We’re just friends. Best of friends. Closer than most. Nothing wrong with that… no of course not. Double date? Could that mean something other than the normal meaning? I know how people like to add double entendre to things, perhaps this was the case? Maybe I should ask someone else what they think it means…

When Jumin finally walked through the front door, the head of staff greeted him with his favourite wine and a glass of MC’s preferred juice… was this something that always happened? He never noticed. The butler’s smile faltered when he didn’t see MC beside him as he lowered his tray. “Will Miss MC not be joining us today, young Master?” he asked as tactfully as possible. Jumin looked over his shoulder to see the maids pause what they were doing and listen intently. “No, not today Mr Kang,” he replied curtly, his lips pressed into a thin line. The older man bowed and promptly turned around, instructing the girls to fix up the table settings, they wouldn’t need to serve two that night. When did that start? When did they start automatically assuming MC was going to be there? When did it become odd when she wasn’t? This was his house, right? Not hers. Ridiculous.

Jumin entered his study and sat down on the left side of the couch because MC liked the right… he glanced down at the spot where she usually sat, and how her legs would stretch out and seek out their spot under his thigh, her feet somehow always cold, even during Summer. He took note of the thick, fluffy garishly green blanket that hung over the arm of the seat next to him. She had brought that over because she would get cold and Jumin would always run hot so she didn’t want to turn up the heat; he would cover her with that each and every time she would fall asleep between her hours of studying. She would yell at him for letting her fall asleep. They would eat dinner. The maids knew how she took her coffee and her favourite cakes. The driver knew all the different shortcuts to get her house.

If he checked the bathroom he wouldn’t be surprised if they had sanitary products for her there.

Then everything stopped, the jumbled thoughts in his head halting to a standstill. Everything made sense, it was all so simple. With such perfect clarity, he realised he was in love. Because his staff knew he was in love. His staff had catered to MC more because he had told them to with how he treated her himself. He placed her needs first- she was an honoured guest, his friend… he hadn’t thought about it. Though it was apparent that they had.

Jumin pinched at the bridge of his nose, it was going to be problematic, he just knew it. How was he supposed to tell a girl, who was his best friend (one of his best friends!), that he didn’t want to be best friends anymore.

He wanted more.

“Mr Kang!” he roared, his voice echoing into the empty halls of the house. The butler ran into the room, out of breath and a look of panic upon his face. “Young Master,” he panted, leaning onto the door furtively to mask his fatigue, “you called?”

“I did,” Jumin replied brushing past him into the foyer, opening the hall closet to take out a jacket to make himself look slightly more presentable. “Instruct Driver Kim that I will need his services tonight-” “Where to Young Master? Perhaps I may go in your stead so you can study-” “Tell him I need to go to MC’s house.”

Mr Kang’s worried expression eased into a relieved smile, his eyes wrinkling up with joy. He clapped Jumin on the arm almost proudly before going off to do as he was asked. Jumin straightened his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair as he breathed in and out, suddenly nervous to go see one of his best friends. Did he hug her? Shake her hand? Kiss her?

Oh, he really wanted to kiss her.

The car pulled up and Mr Kang opened the door for his young master, holding out a plain white paper bag for Jumin to take. Confused the dark-haired man took the handles and looked into the bag, wondering what the content could possibly be. “Cakes, young master. Your lady is most fond of cakes. It would be rude for you to visit her unawares without something to offer her in return for her inconvenience,” he reminded Jumin, years of etiquette lessons slowly flooding his mind again.

“M-my lady? I… I …Thank you, Mr Kang.”

“Will the young miss be joining us tomorrow?” he inquired, a small knowing smile on his face. “I don’t know… but I hope so.”

He knocked on her door, hopeful that her parents wouldn’t answer the door. Ah, some luck. It was her. Was she always so beautiful?

Stupid Jumin.

Of course she was.

“I…” “…Would you like to come in?”

“Yes. I would. Very much.”

How do friends stop being friends and become more? With cake. And coffee. A kiss that tasted of icing and black coffee. Another that tasted like possibility. Of hope. Of…

Everything they should be.

#mystic messenger #juminmcweek #jumin x mc #mystic messenger fanfiction #fluff #juminmcweek day 2

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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The Enduring Appeal of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Processed Snack

Courtesy of Planters

The ingredients and production of Cheez Balls and Dunkaroos are murky, but these snacks retain a nostalgic pull for anyone who ate junk food in the ’90s

“It’s one part nostalgia, one part pure love for cheddar-dusted corn snacks,” says Lindsay DiMarcello, a 29-year-old freelance editor and proofreader, of Planters Cheez Balls, the gumball-sized puffed corn snack in a blue canister. “I remember being very small and sitting under a coffee table in my living room that was right next to a heater vent, and eating a whole can.”

In 2006, Planters discontinued the snack, and in 2014, DiMarcello published a petition on Change.org called “Bring back Planters Cheez Balls and P.B. Crisps!” It received 818 signatures, a reasonably small response. One day, during the summer of 2018, she opened the front door of her home in Oaks, Pennsylvania, to a camera crew recording her.

She had nearly forgotten about the petition by then, but when she saw a peanut-shaped trailer parked in her driveway and someone in a full-body Mr. Peanut costume, she figured it out: Planters, the nut brand owned by the Kraft Heinz food conglomerate, was bringing back the snack. The Planters marketing team had gotten in touch with her boyfriend, who helped plan the surprise visit to coincide with the relaunch.

“I still desperately miss P.B. Crisps. It sucks that didn’t happen,” says DiMarcello.

“There is a bit of a nostalgic halo to the brand,” says Samantha Hess, brand manager at Kraft Heinz; compared to other bright orange cheese powder-dusted corn puffs on the market, she believes Cheez Balls excels. Around since the late 1970s, the product was most popular in the ’80s and ’90s, she explains, and that’s why Kraft Heinz marketed the relaunch as a throwback to the ’90s. It was shelved in the mid-2000s as part of an effort by the company to refocus on its core products: nuts. The look and taste of the snack have been carefully preserved to assure customers that it’s the same product they remember. The only noticeable difference is a burst on the canister that reads: “It’s Back.”

“You’re seeing products that pretend to be healthy and others that have no pretense at all — it’s just pure junk food.”

Cheez Balls are not the only ’90s snack food to reappear. The Coca-Cola Company reintroduced its discontinued soda Surge in 2014, also employing a ’90s nostalgia marketing strategy. General Mills recently announced Dunkaroos will return this year, writing on its blog, “’90s kids now have a new reason to rejoice.” The kangaroo-shaped cookies in a plastic tray with a pool of frosting for dipping, which were available in the U.S. from 1990 to 2012, had received shout-outs from Kim Kardashian West, Chrissy Teigen, and Lilly Singh.

With today’s ’90s kids in their late 20s and 30s, big food makers are tapping into deep reserves of childhood brand recognition for their “new” items. “It costs a lot of money to introduce and market new products, so you see a lot of repackaging and re-introductions of old stuff that was successful,” says Michael Moss, author of Salt Sugar Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us, which explores the ways that big food companies have engineered snack foods to be addictive.

But, like Bill and Ted thrust into another era, many totally, righteously ’90s snacks are an odd fit for a consumer base that increasingly demands more healthful and wholesome foods. Moss describes a divergence in thinking among the biggest food companies that took place around 2017. Confronted with declining sales, as more people became concerned with what they were eating, some packaged food companies resolved to sell more good-for-you products, or at least the illusion of that.

“But then you saw another part of the industry that was like, screw that, there’s always going to be a few million people who are just in it for the craving and the fix,” says Moss. These companies chose to double down on junk food. “That’s why you’re seeing products that pretend to be healthy and others that have no pretense at all — it’s just pure junk food.”

Today, though, these cheap-calorie snacks sit beside plenty of alternatives that tout their healthful virtues. Could nostalgia give them an edge? Troubled since almost the day the two food giants merged in 2015, Kraft Heinz appears to be gambling on that approach with its Cheez Balls comeback campaign. And General Mills, a conglomerate whose biggest business, breakfast cereals, is in the midst of a long and well-publicized sales decline, might be testing a parachute with its Dunkaroos revival. Forget the healthful hyperbole. Forget the barnyard imagery and “Harvest Cheddar” flavor names, even. This time, going back in time to a simpler place means forgetting everything you ever learned about high-fructose corn syrup.

“One of the addictive properties of a cheese puff is when you put it in your mouth and press your tongue onto the roof of your mouth, the puff dissolves because it gets half of its calories from fat,” says Moss.

In food manufacturing, this phenomenon is called “vanishing caloric density”: the notion that when a food is so light that it requires little chewing, the brain doesn’t signal that you are overeating.

Then there’s “dynamic contrast” — essentially, exciting variations in textures and colors, as with Oreo cookies or Dunkaroos. This, says Moss, is just how humans are wired: “The brain loves information for information’s sake, so the more ways you can excite the brain, the better.” According to some studies, Moss says, people — like animals — are attracted to bright colors when shopping for food; this is something that the food industry discovered way back in the 1950s and ’60s. “Which is why the grocery store, when you walk in, you’re just faced with neon colors,” he says.

“If you look at the space these products take up in a supermarket, it’s evident they’ve got a hold on our brains,” says Mark Schatzker, author of The Dorito Effect.

Much of the appeal of junk food items comes from the natural and artificial flavorings added to them. In the flavor labs Schatzker has visited, scientists work to reproduce the chemical compounds in certain real foods to add to food products. The problem with engineering brilliant flavors, he says, is creating an addictive snack out of a morsel that you wouldn’t otherwise want or need to eat much of. Like extruded cornmeal.

“They all kind of run on the same formula, which is a processed carb with flavor powder on it,” says Schatzker of cheese-coated corn-based snacks. “It’s hard to stop eating them because they’re engineered to be continued to be eaten.”

Despite the scientific precision of the nutritional information printed on food packaging, it can be almost impossible to understand what, exactly, many food products are. Or to visualize how they’re made. And few foods are less transparent than Cheez Balls and Dunkaroos; unlike potato chips, a cheese ball represents nothing organic, and with their uniform, molded shapes and plentiful packaging, Dunkaroos are emphatically not just-like-homemade. They’re a throwback to a time before artisanal, small-batch, and all-natural messaging would dominate labels, and meet-the-maker videos flourished.

Kraft Heinz declined to describe how Cheez Balls are made, and few people seem to wonder about their production. But it turns out that cheese curls, puffs, balls, and doodles were invented around 1939 by an animal feed manufacturer in Wisconsin, as Ernie Smith explored for Atlas Obscura. When a grinder jammed, an employee ran some wet corn through the machinery and discovered that it puffed up while exiting the grinder. He seasoned the corn, and the resulting snack was eventually called Korn Kurls. According to the University of Wisconsin, employees of the animal feed company continued to experiment with frying techniques and flavorings, like cheese powder.

“It’s hard to stop eating them because they’re engineered to be continued to be eaten.”

Extruded cornmeal-based snacks are everywhere now. And they’re not just snacks; biodegradable packing peanuts, made from cornstarch or other edible, food-based starches, are created using the same kind of process with high-heat extruders. A representative for Puffy Stuff, a biodegradable packing peanut company, told me on the phone that they’re entirely edible. “We joke around and we eat them,” she said. I’ll admit to letting one or two of these things dissolve in my mouth, too. And if you break apart a cornstarch-based packing peanut and smell the inside, it will remind you of a cheese curl.

“In the ’80s and ’90s there was an explosion of processed food,” says Kristin Lawless, a nutritionist and author of Formerly Known as Food: How the Industrial Food System Is Changing Our Minds, Bodies, and Culture. Behind the shift in supermarket shelves was a significant change in industrial farming. Around this time, Monsanto, founded as a chemical company, began stepping up its efforts in biotechnology, producing corn and soy along with pesticides to control them. Corn and soy, Lawless explains, “are the backbone ingredients of all processed foods.”

Just as this year’s relaunch of Planters Cheez Balls required elaborate marketing efforts, these products were heavily advertised to their target audience. As processed corn- and soy-based products proliferated in the ’90s, Saturday morning cartoons were bookended by commercials for a wacky range of foods marketed to children — like bouncing cartoon kangaroo-shaped cookies. And the boom in processed food followed an increase in advertising focused on African-American consumers during the ’70s.

“With the rise of more ethnic market research firms and advertising agencies, the big companies, like Quaker Oats and General Mills, really concentrated on promoting the use of convenience foods for traditional, black cuisine and encouraging the consumption of packaged foods,” says Marcia Chatelain, author of Franchise: The Golden Arches in Black America. Because African Americans tend to have less access to health care and fewer choices in the marketplace for quality groceries, on top of the stresses caused by racism, says Chatelain, they’ve been particularly impacted by this kind of eating.

Before the 2000s, most people had never heard of GMOs. Americans had no way of knowing whether they were eating trans fats, let alone that they were bad for you and would eventually be banned. Eric Schlosser hadn’t written Fast Food Nation and Michael Pollan hadn’t imbued omnivores with a best-selling dilemma. Millennials are definitely not the first generation with highly processed comfort foods — boomers have that unique honor. But during the ’90s, the processed food industry was on a serious modified food starch high.

“I’m tasting the Dunkaroo in my mind and it is so sweet and texturally very satisfying, and it just brings me back to the playground,” says Eve Turow Paul, a consultant and author of the upcoming book Hungry: Avocado Toast, Instagram Influencers, and Our Search for Connection and Meaning.

She sees the reboots of Dunkaroos and Cheez Balls as a way of tapping into a shared memory or identity, and finding community around that. Given the performative aspect of tweeting about Dunkaroos or “liking” a Facebook group calling for the return of a discontinued snack, a nostalgic food can take on an almost meme-like quality. It’s less about making informed food choices than indulging in an escapist pleasure. “You are essentially excusing yourself from your general adult worries in life,” she says. But memes aren’t necessarily appetizing.

“To be honest, if I saw those in a store, I would probably point them out to my husband and be like, ‘Oh my god, remember Dunkaroos?’” Turow Paul says. “But I probably wouldn’t buy them.”

Nostalgia is a formidable, and some might say toxic, force that defines a large chunk of the U.S. restaurant industry, so it’s no surprise that packaged goods manufacturers are using this theme to sell their products, too. Perhaps the most famous food associated with nostalgia is the madeleine recalled in Marcel Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past. This singular, shell-shaped tea biscuit spurs a flurry of memories for the narrator. If, as the novel implies, everyone has their own madeleine memories — locked deep in the subconscious and accessible only with a certain key — perhaps we all have one food that succeeds above all others in triggering our memories. And maybe we should indulge in it from time to time, Red 40 and all.

Lindsay DiMarcello, who started the Cheez Balls petition, still loves dipping them in chocolate milkshakes, a habit she picked up as a kid. A dynamic contrast if there ever was, she says, the salty cheddar dust paired with sweet, cold chocolate ice cream is deliciously balanced.

But, she adds, “This also works great with Herr’s Cheese Curls.”

Cathy Erway is the author of The Food of Taiwan: Recipes From the Beautiful Island and The Art of Eating In: How I Learned to Stop Spending and Love the Stove.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3cZGiP0 https://ift.tt/3cUa5bF

Courtesy of Planters

The ingredients and production of Cheez Balls and Dunkaroos are murky, but these snacks retain a nostalgic pull for anyone who ate junk food in the ’90s

“I still desperately miss P.B. Crisps. It sucks that didn’t happen,” says DiMarcello.

“You’re seeing products that pretend to be healthy and others that have no pretense at all — it’s just pure junk food.”

“If you look at the space these products take up in a supermarket, it’s evident they’ve got a hold on our brains,” says Mark Schatzker, author of The Dorito Effect.

“It’s hard to stop eating them because they’re engineered to be continued to be eaten.”

But, she adds, “This also works great with Herr’s Cheese Curls.”

Cathy Erway is the author of The Food of Taiwan: Recipes From the Beautiful Island and The Art of Eating In: How I Learned to Stop Spending and Love the Stove.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3cZGiP0 via Blogger https://ift.tt/2KEzgmz

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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sunset-wishes-upon-hill · 7 years

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Pandora ch. 3 (RE-WRITTEN)

Pandora (1st/2nd of re written ver uploaded): FF l Wattpad l Quotev

Rewritten and updated on 15/10/2016

A/N: I’m sick - been sick for few weeks and got worse this week. Hopefully I’ll get better so I can focus on my stories.

Her morning started at five am. She would call her mum, speak about how she was doing and how they were doing and briefly reply to Bella’s texts, then leave by bus toward Pontedera where Jessica boarded a seven am train to Florence. Then she would head back to Volterra and arrive at her inn around midnight. Before she came to Volterra, she already visited the mainland and other tourist places. Florence had been the last of her list to visit.

The next day, she headed to the main street and toward the castle. The castle was always bustling with tourists and locals passing through to their work. In few days, she had taken up a habit of hanging out on the top where she could see the surrounding nature of Volterra. She had not seen Alec since the incident with the drunken man and he had made it clear that he hoped this would be the last that they meet. Everything about him – his posture, appearance and clothes – exuded indifferent detachment. Just like the Cullens’. But while the distance she felt from the Cullens’ were the kind people from well-to-do circles sometimes projected, from the designer clothes they wore, the expensive house they lived in and the fancy cars they drove, Alec appeared to be made to linger on a rainy day in grey November weather without being noticed.

Some locals said the vampires still live here. As in this castle.” A girl, few feet away from her, said to her boyfriend.

Jessica’s ears perked up, the Volterra’s past history with vampires were so embedded within its identity that, to this day, was still a subject of fascination to the locals just as it was for the tourists. Finding herself curious about the local legend, she tuned in to the conversation.

“Too bad vampires don’t exist. At least in real life anyway.” Her boyfriend mused as he took a snap of the picture of the scenery with his phone.

“But it’s really interesting though. The old lady at our villa said that vampires had red eyes and beautiful appearances. Some even had supernatural gifts. She told me that her great ancestors even met some of them! This group of vampires came to Volterra long time ago and promised to not harm anyone living here. It was said there was three leaders and guards that were gifted. One of the ancestors said there were even young vampires who looked like they were thirteen or fourteen!”

“Please don’t tell me you believe it those stuff!”

“Still, it’s so interesting!” She reasoned, “Do you know how to tell if they are those Volterra vampires?”

Although skeptical, the boyfriend was equally curious, “How?”

Jessica tipped the water bottle back, welcoming the cooling and satiating sensation down her dry throat.

“She said they all wore a unique golden V pendent necklace and a hood to shield their skin from the sun because they sparkle like diamonds.”

The water jetted out from her mouth and into evaporating bubbles as it floated down the tower. She broke out into a coughing fit as her throat chocked with the regurgitating liquid and her chest tightened as if she was drowning and were resuscitated back to life.

The girl and her boyfriend jerked toward her, startled for a second before the boyfriend returned his gaze to the girl with an absurd look in his face.

“Oh come on! Sparkle? Like diamonds? Even the girl over there thinks it’s so ridiculous she spat out her water. Sarah, I think you had too many wine yesterday.”

“It was vodka, you king kong!” The girl retorted, “The only reason why I drank so much was because you couldn’t!”

“I just didn’t feel so well yesterday. I usually have a much higher tolerance.”

The girl simply rolled her eyes, blew her paper cup and took a small sip of what it seemed to be a black, bitter coffee.

It can’t be that V necklace I saw few days ago right…? Jessica thought before she shook herself out of absurd thought that was forming in her mind, Come on, vampires? What is this? Vampire Diaries? Maybe I should cut back on alcohol…

As her cough resided, she took a careful nip of water again. Another thought snaked its way through her head. But why would he wear those winter coats in summer heat like this? And not get sweaty? Few times he touched me, his skin felt so cold…almost like a..corpse…

“Oh my god, Jessica, what the hell are you thinking?” She muttered, eyes widening at her own ridiculous speculation. Her mind seemed to be writing its own dramatic novel transcending rational and logical thinking.

Come on; think about it…the Cullens’ are ridiculously pale, even for people that live in a town where sun avoids to shine…maybe it’s just a family trait…they’re freakin adopted..maybe they’re a family of vampires…oh Jessica, what the fuck are you thinking? Are you that stupid? Wearing a hood and a V-necklace must mean they must be a vampire pfft, better get my tinfoil hat on.

The couple turned to leave and Jessica repeated to herself not to follow and ask them more about the vampire stories they heard from some old woman. It was a laughable notion to her and more so to them when they realise someone seemed convinced by what could have been said as jest.

Don’t follow. Don’t follow. Just leave it be. Leave it be!

“Excuse me!” Jessica called after and her legs were already moving, DAMN IT JESSICA!

The couple stopped mid-stairs and glanced over their shoulders as Jessica hurried to catch up to the pair.

“So sorry..um but can I ask from who you heard the vampire stories about?” Her cheeks heated red with embarrassment as the couple shared a look with each other before looking back. ‘Someone actually believes it?’ their eyes seemed to accuse.

“I’m really sorry for listening in on your conversation but..I’ve heard people saying this castle used to belong to the vampires and I really want to know more about it.” She babbled nervously, unable to meet their eyes.

“Oh..um..” The girl started then paused then spoke again, “Well, this old lady that owns the villa we’re staying at told me during the dinner. I can tell you the name of it and you can go and try to ask her about it..”

“Um, yeah, that would be great. Thank you so much.” Jessica mustered a smile.

“It’s called Villa Porta all'Arco. It’s literally like ten minutes’ walk from here.” She revealed with arm pointing behind her.

“Thank you so much again!” Jessica said as she made it down the flight of stairs. The girl and the boy looked at each other once again, thinking to themselves ‘Someone’s been watching too much vampire shows’.

Villa Porta all'Arco.. Jessica repeated the name over and over in her head. With the help of street vendor, she was able to find the place at the outskirt of the ancient city walls. The three-story townhouse stood in the middle of the surrounding forests, curtained by the large fronds in each side like nature’s columns.

She stepped forward then stepped back. Would she think I’m..a weirdo? What do I say? ‘Hey I overheard from couple staying at your house about your ancestors meeting the Volterra’s vampires, can I hear more about it?’ Jessica inhaled, trying to muster up the courage.

Why would I even think of vampires being real in the first place?! Jessica asked herself. Her mind answered with series of flashbacks with what was just a simple casual observations of Cullens’ weird behaviours and later, Bella.

They’re beautiful. Inhumanely so. No one can be that perfectly looking or sounding. Their hair was always soft and voluptuous as if every morning they had the professionals take care of their styling, their skin was flawless like a blank canvas waiting to be painted and their voice had such an alluring proponent that she often wondered how all of them were able to attain them. Was there a surgery for it? Heck she Googled them and turns out such procedure actually exist. It couldn’t be a passed on trait from parents, they were all adopted, so how were they all so perfect and beautiful?

They never ate. Ever. She always thought that the cheap, mass produced, over-processed cafeteria food was below their cultured taste. Their school foods weren’t the best, that she agreed wholeheartedly. But she had never seen them eat anything, even things they probably could have packed from home.

They never drank. Anything. Na-dah. How they can go eight hours without drinking was beyond her. Even if they did drink something away from prying eyes, they never did try to disappear from the centre of the attentions. The only time they did was when they went to hiking with their parents. In the rare time the sun did shine in Forks.

Sun. They always disappeared when there was a sun. Ergo sunshine was a rare occurrence in Forks; she tried to think of the time when they did made an appearance to school when the sun was up and she couldn’t.

Oh no... Jessica groaned, for all she know it could have been some gross, misled imaginations her mind decided to make while a sixth sense of sort in her said otherwise. Shaking her head, this isn’t right. Let’s just go back.

She turned to leave when a door opened and a soft, low voice spoke, “Are you going to come in, piccolo?”

Jessica slightly jumped and twirled to see a perennial woman. She saw that she was much older than she originally thought. Perhaps in her late 70s given wizened lines in her face, deep and saggy–– like the skin slipping down the skull underneath and her loosely tied powder-white hair was thinning and her smile showed that her teeth were rather yellow. Along with this, it could be seen that the lips, once beautifully full, were dry and cracked. Her eyes appeared milky in certain light and angle but they were gleaming with energy and while her face appeared world weary at times, she was active and alert.

“Uh…hello, I’m Jessica Stanley.”

“Ciao, you can call me Giada. Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, uh, nah, I was just looking around…” Jessica shook her head apologetically, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“You look like you have something you want to ask.” She sharply noticed and opened the door further, “Come in, child.”

Jessica was startled by her insight before approaching the villa and entered the house as Giada closed the door.

“Would you like any drink?” The old lady asked as she guided her into the drawing room.

“No, thank you, it’s fine.” Jessica smiled as took a seat in the sofa across Giada.

Once settled, Giada looked at Jessica expectedly, “How can I help you?”

“Um, well, I was wondering if you could tell me more about the…um, Volterra’s vampires.” Jessica started and quickly added, “I overheard the conversation from this couple that was staying here that you told them about the legend of vampires and umm…”

Giada stilled and stared into Jessica’s eyes as if searching for something in her.

“People may believe it’s a mere legend but they are real.” She revealed as she carefully studied the change of expressions in Jessica’s countenance, “My ancestor have met them. Very civilized and adhered to strict laws they have created. It was said their beauty was so god-like that human men and women who saw them would fall in love with them.”

“I heard that they also had guards that were gifted?”

“Yes. Very gifted. Very powerful that one should not judge them by appearances.” Then she stood up to retrieve something from the locked glass cupboard. When she came back, in her hands were thickly bounded tattered book covered with dust and mites.

“My ancestors wrote accounts of their arrivals and of their chasings by St. Marcus. Although they suspected they were not chased away but went into hiding underground for the fear of the local’s reprisals.” She gently pushed the diary toward Jessica and she picked it up with great care.

It was written in cursive Italian, which she did not understand and she perused the pages when something loose fell out and onto the marble floor. Picking up, she realised it was various sketches of portraits. The first one was of two young children, about fourteen or fifteen, and they were angelically beautiful. The boy, whose lip was not as full as the girl but just as lovely, was significantly taller than the girl. Although it was hard to make out, they shared similarities one would see in biologically related siblings or twins.

“Ah yes, the youngest vampires in the coterie.” She said, noticing Jessica’s fascination with them. Something about the boy was familiar. His piercing, cold eyes were a stranger but his nose and lips sparked a forgotten memory.

“Do you know their names?” She asked without looking up, still fascinated by the drawing.

“No. Only the leaders.”

“Can I ask how your ancestors knew them so..well?” Jessica’s hand hovered above the boy’s face and as Giada spoke, “One of my ancestors, a woman named Valeria, was a lover of Francesco Solimena, the painter who drew these.” Jessica horizontally twisted her wrist so that her hand covered the top part of his face. Shiver sparked down her spine as she took in the newly formed picture and realised why she seemed to think she saw him before. It was Alec.

Jessica sweep to the next page and almost dropped the old, frail parchments. Had she been standing, her knees would have gave out and collapse on the ground. The familiar and unique crest stared back at her mockingly as it gleefully confirmed her greatest fear. It was the same V crest that was hung on Alec’s neck.

“W..what is the leaders name…?” Jessica whispered weakly. The third and final parchment showed three men sat on the thrones as equal rulers. The one in the centre and on the right could not be any older than in their mid-twenties while the man on the left, looking utterly depressed, seemed to be in his forties. What shocked her was how beautiful they all were. God-like, Giada said and Jessica agreed. It was unnerving to see such perfections when the nature despised perfections.

“Aro, Caius and Marcus…and their friend,” Giada closed her eyes as if she was searching for the final name in her mind.

The fourth man, dressed just as aristocratic as the leaders, was standing nearer to them than anyone by the side. Rather than as their right hand man and confidante, it seemed to convey favour and friendship this man was bestowed. The parchment in her hand seemed to move and appear in two dimensions like seeing through a kaleidoscope tube and realised it was her own hand that were shaking uncontrollably.

“Carlisle I believe his name was. A doctor, he said he was.”

Giada studied the fear and dread on Jessica’s face wordlessly, even when her tan skin became pale as a paper, stood up and rushed out of the house.

Her legs continued running, ignoring the stares from the people she had pushed past unintentionally and the burnings she felt spreading through her body from below. Closing the door behind her loudly, she slid down to the floor in shock.

It can’t be. The old lady must be senile and she must be crazier to even believe her. There was no such thing as vampires. They could have been Carlisle’s ancestor. A great-great-great grandfather that just had scary resemblance to Dr. Cullen she knew. Vampires only existed in TVs and movies and fictions and the necklace she saw Alec wearing must have been some sort of homage to the legend. She let out a breathy, empty laugh and shook her head, “Yeah that must be it. Gosh what was I thinking. Vampires. Yeah right.”

Her phone that had escaped her pocket when she ran inside, tinged as a text popped up on screen.

Bella: What are you doing? :)

With shaking hand, she picked up the phone. She gulped. Then deep breathe then out. Sliding the text, she pressed the call button and heard the dialing tones.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Bella.” Jessica greeted, voice slightly wavering.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, guess what I found out about today?”

“What?”

“Did you know there’s this local legend about these vampires of Volterra?”

A dead silent. Then stutter, “U-uh, n-no, really? Woah, that’s so interesting!”

Jessica imagined Bella biting her lips from the other side of the phone. She had always been bad at hiding and lying. Not that she was better, but she was more efficient and aware.

“Yeah, apparently there were these three vampire leaders.” Jessica continued and when Bella said nothing she added, “Their names were apparently Aro, Caius and Marcus. It’s crazy…but I saw a painting of them and there was a man who looked a lot like Dr. Cullen.”

The pause was heavy and palpable. The whole world seemed to have died. If one were to drop a pin in the next door, she’d hear it.

Please laugh and say ‘I’m crazy’ and that it’s all just a weird coincidence, Jessica prayed.

“That sounds cool.” Bella managed at last.

“Edward might know, you know probably heard it from Heidi or something. Or Dr. Cullen, that might be his great-great grandpa or something.” Jessica let out a vain chuckle.

Another pause. Shorter this time.

“Yeah, he might have.” She said.

“Hey, Bella, I gotta go.”

“Jess––“

She hung up and the phone cluttered on the floor. Jessica stood and limply fell on to the bed. She didn’t want to think anything else. After hours of tossing and turning, she finally fell into a restless sleep.

In her dream, she imagined the angelically beautiful vampires and the leaders coming to life and their crimson eyes boring into her blue ones. Behind them, stood Carlisle; melancholy look in his eyes.

The next day, she had been spending all her mornings on Googling what probably was the most bizarre and comical questions. On her phone, popped up a message saying she had seven missed calls from Bella.

‘help, I found out someone I know is a vampire’

‘what to do when you know a vampire’

‘vampires real?’

‘vampire history’

‘how to tell if they’re a vampire’

‘vampire weakness’

‘vampire’

There were so many myths and legends about vampires, each positing different weakness, strengths, characteristics and its origin. But most seemed to agree that vampires were unnaturally beautiful, pale, drank blood and had heightened strength and senses beyond human capabilities. And undead.

It was said that they could be killed or harmed by garlic, holy items, wooden stakes, silver and sunlight. Which sounded a bit silly. Because if, and if, Cullens and Alec and Heidi were vampires, which Jessica had her doubt, most of weakness written here didn’t seemed to affect them at all.

She knew Alice and Rosalie loved to wear gold and silver jewelries and Alec didn’t seem too bothered by the sunlight. And Dr. Cullen worked in a hospital as a doctor for heaven sake ––which was not a wise career to take if your diet consisted of only blood. Jessica was beginning to think they were as reliable as child’s fairytale. But Giada said that the Carlisle in the painting was also a doctor. Either Dr. Cullen was lying or he had an impeccable control over his..uh, hunger?

She’s been treated by Dr. Cullens ever since he and his family arrived in town. The first time they met was when she nearly died after slipping on a dog biscuit in the kitchen, did a somersault in the air and fell face flat on the marble floor, broke her nose and busted a lip bad that by the time she arrived in the hospital her hair, face, legs and white PJ dress were covered in blood like she had just came out from the murder scene. Dr. Cullen simply laughed and treated her. She never gotten the feeling he wanted to eat her then.

But would her finding out that the Cullens’ were vampires change her views toward them? They were weird and unjustly perfect but would that make her go and buy herself a cross, silver and a stake to protect herself if they did turned out to be vampires? Turn her back on them and be scared and afraid when she hadn’t before? If they were a vampire, they had so many chances to kill her and others but they didn’t. In fact, other than the weird serial killings of people by some wild animals or something, the Forks didn’t have any fresh bodies turning up at the morgue weeks after weeks. If they were responsible for those deaths, why then, why wait few years to start killing?

Does the fact that they were vampires mean everything they were before meant nothing? Can she let it defined them? ‘They’re vampires, so that mean they kill people and are dangerous and are monsters’? When they drank human blood, did they kill them or do some memory wiping magic and let them go their own way?

Jessica massaged her aching temples, groaning as her phone buzzed once again. If Alec were a vampire, why didn’t he kill her before?

Because they don’t kill those within these walls. She remembered the lady’s words. The last thing they want was vampires going around recklessly killing people in sight and flaming people’s ire. Because humans, no matter how powerless they may be against vampires, won’t just idly stand around and wait for their turn. They’re gonna die trying.

So did that mean as long as she stayed within these walls, Alec can’t do anything? Or Heidi? Would she be fucking stupid enough to try? Test out her little crazy, wacky theory of hers’? Sometimes she wondered where she gets this confidence from while sober. They say that there’s no confidence utterly foolish and inane than the drunks’ but she might have topped that level of insanity.

What if Alec isn’t a vampire and when he hears what she tried to do, he’d laugh at her? Call her crazy and a fool, as he liked to say. But as she glanced at the phone vibrating on her bed and the notification showing she now had ten missed calls from Bella, why was it that everything seemed to be pointing to this absurd, ridiculous notion of hers’?

Please let this be not true.

Grabbing her phone, the bag and closing her laptop screen, she left her room.

Her footsteps were languid and burdened with mix of emotions; trepidation, apprehension, nervousness with a touch of foreboding sense of catharsis. Her heart palpitated painfully against her ribcage as she arrived in front of the gate that would presumably lead to the castle.

‘Hey, it might sound crazy but I still gotta ask: are you a vampire?’ She repeated the script over and over in her head. Then a quick yes or no would be more than enough.

She waited for him to come. Like a prey waiting for its predator’s arrival to face the inevitable. He always seemed to know she was here and there doesn’t seem to be any CCTV around for someone to tell Alec, ‘Alec, the crazy girl is here, again. Kick her out would you?’

“Was my previous warning not enough?” The musical voice said from behind her.

She turned, slowly, to face the mystery boy in dark hood in a Midsummer Day. The boiling heat doesn’t seem to affect him and she could almost feel coolness emitting from him.

Okay, Jessica, start with ‘Hey, it might sound crazy…’ Her mind calmly began.

She opened her mouth and asked, “Are you a vampire?”

JESSICA STANLEY, I SAID TO BEGIN WITH ‘HEY, IT MIGHT SOUND CRAZY’, YOU DON’T GO HARDCORE STRAIGHT!

But the water has been spilt. The boy was still like a statue, and then glided toward her, closing the gap in two long strides. His movements segued smoothly that she could not call it a walk.

“What make you think I’m a vampire?”

“Well, they say vampires have different coloured eyes or something, right?” Jessica ventured.

He did not answer her.

“You always have your face covered.” Jessica reasoned wearily, “Show me your face.”

He was close enough for her to see the corner of his lip twitch upward, “You’re treading on a dangerous line here.”

Final warning, he was telling her. Turn around and walk away before you have a chance, it was saying. She had a chance to go back to her usual musing of him being a mafia or a cult member or an assassin. She might be happy and glad deluding herself with these theories instead of supernatural ones.

Jessica wanted to run, quickly mutter out ‘sorry, I’m drunk!’ and go on about her life in Volterra and leave quietly, treasuring her meeting with Alec and Heidi as one of those nice but insignificant people that’ll have little impact on her in the future as she lived. They could be those forgotten memories. The forgotten faces of the strangers she had walked past in a random, foreign street.

Her arm reached up, hesitant whether he’ll let her do what she wanted to do. When he made no move to stop her, she grabbed the edge of the hood.

“It’s your very last chance.” He said in a low voice that was too unfamiliar to her. It was strange hearing him speak like that. She was so used to his friendly tone.

Gulping down her fears, she slowly pulled down the hood until it rested on his neck.

Jessica blinked against the still ones.

Blue met red.

Jessica wished it was coloured contacts. A very expensive, realistic contacts. Heidi had her purples ones and Alec had red ones. Just a unique individual’s taste. She wished.

The face that stared back at her was the very same one in the drawing that she had seen next to the girl. Even after all these years and times, his delicate face remained unchanging and forever lovely than the finished painting in the Vatican. One would think he was an ordinary young boy were it not for the sharpness in his eyes that could only come with time. His eyes were striking colour of crimson glided with long, thick dark lashes. She thought the drawing did not do him justice because he was so much more complete and deeper than the elaborate strokes on a paper.

“…Am I going to die now?” It came out in a hoarse whisper.

“I can’t let you live now that you know who I am.” His arm reached out toward her. The same arm that saved her from the drunken man now bore out its claws to kill.

“W-wait!” She stepped back, “You can’t kill me. Not at least when I’m still in these walls.”

He stilled and tilted his head, “Where did you obtain that information?”

He might try to kill Giada.

“..B-Bella!” She lied, “She said you don’t kill people here.”

“That law doesn’t apply to those that know our identity.” He stepped forward and she stepped back until she could feel the solidness of the wood on her shoulders and rear.

She felt the tear gathering in the corner of her eyes. You’re such a suicidal idiot, her mind told her. It was all her fault. She could have walked away when he gave her the chance but she needed to know. She was so tired of wondering, wondering what the Cullens’ were hiding, wondering why Bella was acting so weird ever since she got involved with Edward, wondering why the cycle started again with Alec and Heidi.

And she got her answers that she sought out. With a price. Her life. Was she satisfied now? Happy? Or is it the ‘I told you so’ case?

“Is Alec even your real name?” She asked for what was probably her last.

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Vampire age.” She clarified.

He smiled and although she had seen him smile before with half of his face hidden, her breath hitched at the sight.

“I don’t keep count.”

“You’re not gonna believe me even if I say I’m not gonna tell anyone that you’re a vampire.”

“We don’t take any risk.”

We. That meant he wasn’t alone. There were others. Other vampires. In Volterra. The vampires of Volterra.

“Give me a chance. Please...please.”

“We do not give any chances.” His arm grabbed her neck, the other her shoulder. Tear slipped down her cheek in silent mourn as she felt his breath hover above the crook of her neck.

“Do you think…you can have my body sent to my parents?” She asked, staring at the large, mature tree over his shoulder.

“Your body will be destroyed.”

She felt the strength leaving her body as she surrendered to her inevitable death. Closing her eyes, imagining her parents’ reaction to the daughter that vanished and will never be found gripped her heart painfully.

“It was nice meeting you, Alec.” She said before becoming limp in his arm. The phone buzzed frantically in her pocket.

#pandora story #pandora rewritten

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