It was three o'clock in the afternoon on a Sunday in September, sunlight streaming in through the window and illuminating a warm patch of Souji's floor. That was where he and Yosuke were lying now, shirts hastily discarded in a passionate flurry; now Yosuke was hovering over Souji and had(more) suddenly forgotten how to move.
The kissing part had been fine. It'd been weird at first, okay, but it was ultimately fine. It had been easy enough to extrapolate from images of any two people kissing. This, though, well... most of Yosuke's porn had nurses in it. Female ones.
"Are you okay?" Souji's brow crinkled in that concerned way that Yosuke usually found cute, but now seemed a little patronizing. "We don't have to do this."
Yosuke felt unsteady, and he abruptly realized it was because the arm that was propping him up was shaking. His other hand was shaking too -- he was probably shaking all over -- so he tucked his fingers into Souji's hair in a vague attempt to hide it. "J- just nervous, I guess. I, uh, kind of don't know what I'm doing."
Souji reached up his own hand to touch the one Yosuke had put in his hair; he twined their fingers together and gently guided it down Souji's side, feathering over the skin until it reached his waist. Once it was there, Souji let go. "Me either," he admitted, cheeks going a little pink. "I think we can figure it out, partner."
The entirety of Yosuke's face went hot, like he could melt or explode right on the spot. His fight-or-flight response was kicking in badly, so before he could decide it was a bad idea he slipped his fingers under Souji's waistband and started to pull.(less)
Marcus pressed the tips of his fingers together, dark eyes evaluating Henry with cold calculation. He was smaller than Henry imagined. For some reason he thought "the doctor" would be some huge Haitian with gold teeth and arms covered in prison tattoos. Instead, the man before him barely(more) reached 5'6". He was well-dressed and well-spoken, and Henry wondered if he was a doctor after all. He just assumed- well, considering the people who came pounding on his door early this morning.
Someone nudged the back of his head. They were expecting him to say something, but he couldn't remember a question. "I... uh..." His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
He glanced over Marcus's polished desk, trying to collect his thoughts. There were four smart phones all lined up in a neat little row. Were they all his? What an odd thing, having four cell phones. This time the nudge was much harder. A quiet ringing filled his ears.
"I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't slept in three days and I'm finding it extremely difficult--" He heard a rustling behind him, but Marcus held up a hand and the movement stopped.
"Do you know why you are here, Harry?"
"Henry. It's Hen-ry..." he trailed off as Marcus's left eye narrowed. "I think so. It has something to so with my research."
"You have knowledge of something that can be very useful to me, and to society. Something that will make us very rich men."
"Look, if you are talking about the T-cell..."
Marcus leaned forward. "You have unlocked the cure to cancer, Henry. You have no idea how many people have been watching you." His hand stroked the cell phones, a plan hidden behind his too-white smile- a plan Henry wouldn't be allowed to refuse.
The second she stepped into that back alley, it was like time had stopped around her. Not in the way she imagined it did for people who didn't experience the Dark Hour (she wouldn't know, she'd been living it since she was ten), but a gradual slowing followed by a(more) freeze that dulled her senses and chilled her to the bone. It felt like something a Shadow might cast on her in Tartarus, except there weren't any Shadows here, it was just Akihiko and Ken-kun and...
She was kneeling at his side but she had no clear recollection of how she got there; she'd been standing next to Mitsuru, and then she was on the cold asphalt next to Shinji's body, with no apparent steps in between. She took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it with all her strength; the other hand reached out to the hole in his coat. Her fingers brushed against the wool, wet and warm and sticky.
"Don't cry," she heard him say, but it was already too late for that. She reached her bloodstained hand into her pocket and took out the pocket watch, the one she'd gotten from Kurosawa the police station, and pressed it into Shinji's palm. She'd wanted to give it to him sooner, but they'd gone into Tartarus instead; she hadn't known, she hadn't REALIZED...
Shinji coughed and her eyes shot to his face; he was SMILING and she couldn't begin to fathom why. The whole world was blurry through the haze of her tears. Fuuka nad Mitsuru were talking but their words had no meaning. She had both hands around his now, crushing his hand into a fist around the watch, as though she could turn it into a time machine if she just wished hard enough.(less)
It's all up to you now, the man told himself. You are the man with a plan. He looked around at the faces surrounding him, eagerly gazing at him and waiting for his proclamation of what they should do next. They were about to embark on a journey of(more) sorts, and they had picked him to be their leader. Soon, they would venture into the shadows of the night with no promise of return. The man took a deep breath and held up his pitchfork high above his head, grasping onto a torch with the other. With a war cry, he began to charge into the village, a savageness clouding any rationality that might have remained.(less)
Masayoshi had never really thought about sex before. He knew it existed, in an abstract form - there had been mentions in biology class and he was reasonable sure there had been something akin to sex ed. at some point in his academic career - but it had never(more) concerned him. It never came up among his heroes, after all - there were the occasional light romantic plots, but he usually glossed right over them since they had little to do with his ultimate pursuit of justice.
But now there was Gotou-san, and now there was the realization that the strange bubbly feeling he got when he saw Gotou-san was something else entirely. Whenever he laughed at Masayoshi, or rolled his eyes and got exasperated, or even when he wasn't aware Masayoshi's eyes were on him and he would look off somewhere in the distance and smile fondly ... all of those things made the feelings bubble and fizz in his gut like a shaken-up soda bottle.
Masayoshi would think about pressing his entire body up against Gotou's, to feel the warmth and the breadth of him and then his entire face would go scarlet at the thought. The last thing he wanted was to have to ask Ishihara about this - this was love too, he knew, but it wasn't the same sort of thing and yet ... it was.
Ultimately it was Mari who drove the entire thing home for him in her customary blunt fashion - eyeing him from the other side of the table, deceptively cute in her performing outfit. "You guys totally haven't even had sex," she said, chin in hands and watching his reaction smugly. "Why don't you just give up already, you're such a freak."
"Okay, where do we start?"
"Well, you could hold my hand."
His hand shook as he reached out for her hand that was waiting on the red tablecloth. Her skin was tan and seemed to glow in the light given of(more)f by the candle sitting in the middle of the table.
"Are you nervous?"
"No, no. I'm not nervous," he said making a face.
"You're hand is shaking," she smiled.
"It's just been awhile..."
"Since you were on a date?"
"... since I'd met someone so beautiful as you."
She smiled and he placed his hand on top of her's.
"You're hand is cold," she said softly.
"I'm sorry," he began to lift his hand away from her's.
"No, it's okay. I was a little warm anyways," she took his hand back. "Are you sure you're not nervous? It's alright if you are."
"I'm sure," he said reassuringly with a smile. "I'm only happy to be with you here tonight."
She smiled and bit her lip softly. She looked down for a moment. The warm color of her skin went well with the red lipstick she was wearing and the soft illumination of the candle. She looked back up at him.
"Thanks for taking me out tonight," she said quietly. "I have been cooped up in that apartment for too long."
"It's my pleasure," he said placing his other hand on her hand and playing with her ring. "I'm glad you could come."
She looked at his hand playing with her ring. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she took her hand away from his.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"I'm so sorry, Marion. I can't do this," she got up and left; his plan went out the window, and he sat lonely in his chair.(less)
100% honest, this prompt sounds like a Facebook post that someone posts for likes, and for every like, the person must post something honest about themselves or the people who like the post. I remember the days of my freshman year of high school when I first started(more) my Facebook account. I was so young and naive, thinking that my account was key to letting people know who I was. "Truth is..." posts were not uncommon to appear on your news feed if you were friends with me. Anyways, I only hope no one else recalls those days like I do. (less)
The stark exterior gave way to a warm and friendly interior. It was decorated to resemble a typical Swiss home. He was greeted by an official looking man carrying papers.
"Would you like a tea or coffee?" He asked.
"Coffee would be nice."
"We just have some leg(more)al documents to complete first and I can leave you to relax."
As he was being asked to confirm his desire to die several more times, his coffee was delivered. He sipped at the bitter blend as he listened to the man read through formal statements.
"So if you are content and agree, please sigh here and here."
Tim scanned the documents out of habit and signed where requested.
"OK, I will leave you with the nurse to explain the final procedure."
He stood and waited. Tim looked up and realised he wanted to shake his hand. The man took his hand and looked squarely into his eyes. It was if he was trying to communicate something to him, to pass on a message, or maybe a warning. Or maybe he was just wondering what it felt like to be on the other end of the hand grasp.
He gave Tim a very warm smile. "Good luck."
He sat down and picked up his cup. The temperature had dropped to a comfortable warmth now allowing him to keep the liquid in his mouth and savour it. He tried to think of his life and all the things that he could feel proud of. He thought of his marriage, his children, his friends. He knew he would be missed but also wondered how many people would resent him for what he was doing. How many people would see him as cowardly for this.
Being honest, he wondered this himself also.(less)
If I were to be 100% honest, I guess I was never in love with Fred. I did love him in a way, but just wasn't in love with him. How could I love someone who was called Fred? Fred was not a real man's name, Fred was a dog name or(more) a donkey name or a hamster name and although my Fred looked nothing like either a dog or a donkey or a hamster it was a name that did't inspire confidence. This, up until now was not a massive problem. I had wanted a boyfriend and he was in love with me. A seemingly harmless equation to begin with. I did know of many cases among my friends where one half of the couple was more into it than the other. It was the way of the world, but a year on no massive love feelings had grown for Fred and now he was sitting opposite me in the bar, his eyes all shiny and expectant. I met him when I was coming out of a low patch after a bad breakup. He was the polar opposite of Craig, polite, considerate, punctual, good with money, generous. He ticked a lot of boxes, plus, I knew deep down that when it ended, because, in my mind, it would end, I would not be heartbroken. I would be able to pick myself up and continue on with my life without the trauma of a bruised heart. Now Fred was waiting for my answer. The small navy velvet box lay open on the table between us. I could see the stones twinkling against the satin background in the dim light of the bar. If a marriage was based on honesty, then maybe this was the time to come clean.......(less)