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Tweak says, "'lulz' is a corruption of LOL"

Hayate Ishikawa (splitimpulse) wrote in nosuchplace,
@ 2009-02-20 00:26:00

Entry tags:

chris jung, hayate ishikawa

Thursday: December 20, 2007
Who: Hayate and Chris
When: Late Night
Where: Hayate’s Cottage
What: There are other ways to exert control.
WARNINGS: Mature sexual content between an adult and young teen.

Often she would lose herself in a book upon the cushions of his sofa, quietly reading the pages as her eyes roamed over text before her. Her hair would fall into her face, and her fingers would idly reach up and tuck it behind her ear without leaving the book in front of her eyes. She would read steadily, breathing in a mild manner, absorbed in the text like it was another world and she was already in it. Her eyes spoke of her belief in it. In them he saw devotion and a glimmer of hope, a spark come alive and burn for an hour or however long she continued to be immersed in her fantasy world.

A book could never give to him what he received from simply watching her. She was his only fantasy, and a book would never measure up to what he could have here, now. Chris enjoyed reading, though, and he liked to see her happy. He refused to ask her to do things for him on most occasions; instead, he would ask her what she wanted to do, and they would do that. If Chris felt like reading, then she would read and he would watch her read in silence, mulling over his thoughts and finding ways to easily occupy them.

Hayate watched her as he sat across from her, wondering how they could remain silent for such long periods of time as they did nothing in particular; her, reading — and him, watching her read. A strange arrangement, of course, but they both liked it. Hayate needed no other reason or excuse to justify their choices in pastimes; he needed no excuses for anything, lacking a proper conscience to require them in the first place.

It might have been the reason for his next idea as well.

Finally, he grew tired of only sitting there and rose from his spot, ascending the stairwell to his room. Up there, he acquired a box from his closet and made his way back down the steps to the sitting room, where he presented the box to Chris. A secret smile decorated his face as he held it out to her.

“Go on,” he urged gently. “Open it.”

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runasone
2009-02-20 11:21 am UTC (link)

Things between Chris and Hayate had become quite comfortable with the passing of each day. She could spend hours upon hours in his cottage, doing whatever she wanted since Hayate was always happy to follow along with her ideas. It was another way of spoiling her, but it hadn't gotten to the point that Chris was ruined by it. What the girl enjoyed most, out of any activity she could choose, was spending time with the vampire. They didn't have to do anything in particular just as long as she was near him, and Hayate seemed content to just sit and watch her. She had gotten used to the steady stares, the ones that felt like they were examining every part of her, and had grown to enjoy them. It was nice to think that he enjoyed watching her.

Chris noticed when Hayate moved from his chair, but she didn't look up to watch where he was going. She knew he would return from wherever he was going; the vampire didn't like to be away from her for very long. Chris had just turned a page in her book when Hayate returned with the box in hand. The girl looked up at him curiously when he presented it to her, a smile growing upon her pink lips.

"A present? For me?" It was a silly question considering the vampire had handed the box to her and urged her to open it, but Chris was still a young girl and old habits from her youth were hard to break. She took the box from him, lifting the lid to reveal the contents. Beneath two layers of tissue paper lied a pink nightie with matching bra and panties. It wasn't the usual type of present a 14-year old would get, but the relationship between Chris and Hayate was far from usual. She pulled the pieces from the box, smiling even more as she examined them.

"It's pink!" She exclaimed with glee. "I love it!" Chris jumped to her feet, and wrapped her arms around Hayate. "Thank you," she said. It didn't bother her in the slightest that he had given her a provocative outfit; the only thing that mattered to the girl was that it was a gift from the vampire, and that made it more special than anything else.

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splitimpulse
2009-02-20 06:54 pm UTC (link)

The present he had gotten for her was not a typical present, especially not for someone of her age. As she took it from his grasp, he moved to sit down beside her, appraising her for her reaction and contemplating what her response would be to such a gift. His eyes wandered to her neck, where the blue irises settled upon the pulsing vein beneath the surface of her flesh. Only for a brief moment did he even take notice of her smile, leaning towards her in a leisurely manner, wanting — no, desiring — to have that piece of her, the blood coursing through her body, warming her skin and bringing life to her rosy cheeks.

Hardly any time at all had passed before she hurried onto her feet and engulfed him in a hug. Thank you, she whispered into his ear — no, not quite a whisper, but it seemed to him as if it was beneath the roaring of her pulse. For various reasons, he had denied himself a second time of her. There were so many things to consider. The first time he had forgotten of his condition and hers amidst the act, the danger involved in such contact with a human and a vampire — so much fury and yearning had blindsided him to its importance. Also, it was easy to grow tired of something, especially the more one indulged in it. Hayate knew that all too well. It was best not to let himself fall into the same trap all over again, even if it was different this time. He still knew what he was above it all.

Finally, therein lied a third reason. Her innocence. Its palpable nature, still mightily infused with her being, remained a driving part of what made Chris herself. Hayate wanted her, but at the expense of her innocence — the thing that drew him so? It was hard to say. Still, this was new: His contemplation over matters that almost echoed of a thing called morality. Perhaps somewhere, deep inside of the twisted hallways of his mind, there was a man who remembered what that word meant.

His hand reached up to bury itself carefully in her hair. He leaned forward, his lips coming close to her ear. “Try it on,” he said, his voice not above a murmur.