Pokkle pushed the door to their bedroom open before tip toeing in. He hadn't been home in a while, and he wanted to surprise Kurapika. He could only hope this didn't end with a chain in his chest. "..I'm back," Pokkle leaned over his lover as he slept to gently press his lips against his lover's forehead, "I've missed you."
Cocooned tightly in the big blankets and comforters on the bed, Kurapika almost didn’t hear the soft whisper or feel the kiss. He couldn’t help but stir a little at the feeling, though, and his brown eyes slowly opened.
“Hmm…?”
His eyes focusing and resting on Pokkle, the Kurta gave a quiet gasp and bolted upright, his eyes starting to glow red.
“P…Pokkle…?” A few tears came to his eyes as the name danced along his lips, and Kurapika practically threw himself at the other in a hug.
“I-… I-I’ve missed you…” he murmured, his face burrowing against the beast hunter’s shoulder and his heart aching with love.
chapter summary: a lone hunter wanders through the woods, armed with a bow and a gun for emergencies.
pairing: KuraPokkle
for: 404pikanotfound, who’s been helping me brainstorm for this and is supplying amazing ideas :-)
Twelve miles out from town was a forest. Pokkle didn’t care how many people had been there before him, or what he could even find there. He didn’t know, he didn’t think anyone knew. It was just an uncharted, barely spoken of forest. It was still early morning, with dew dotting the grass and a soft breeze filtering through the air.
The man stealthily moved through the forest, a thin bow carved out of spruce wood clutched in his hands. Strapped to his back, a quiver, stocked full of arrows, alongside a gun for emergencies. Guns made nose and scared animals away, while a bow was pretty quiet. Plus, Pokkle was a lot more skilled with a bow. He found them overall easier to operate.
Pokkle lived alone in a cottage on the outskirts of a village called Owain. He hunted game every weekend, normally catching pheasants and geese. If he was lucky, a deer or elk. He set traps occasionally, but normally stuck to his bow and arrow. There were a couple small forests near Owain that were his usual stomping grounds. However, for a day trip he had decided to drive up to a larger forest north of his village, setting up camp nearby. Not many people spoke of it, and those who did seemed concerned for Pokkle. However, he was confident in his skills as a hunter, and knew he’d be able to bring home a nice supply.
Pokkle stopped as a sharp gust of wind rustled leaves. Alert, he focused on his hearing. Though the wind did drown it out a little, he was positive he heard a twig snap. The hunter darted forward and crouched down in a bush, leaves tickling his arms as he readied his bow.
There was movement, somewhere. He was positive of it. Something large was cautiously poking around near some bush. An elk or deer, probably. Jackpot. If he could nab that, along with a pheasant or two, he’d be all set.
Steady, now... the pink-haired hunter thought to himself. Leaves on shrubs rustled and snapped off. The animal was probably eating berries. Come closer, Pokkle beckoned to it in his head, as if the creature could read his thoughts.
There was silence for a few moments, and the animal darted in the opposite direction of Pokkle. Shit. He had to hurry, or he would lose it. The animal kept on running for about five minutes. The breaks it took were too short for Pokkle to shoot at it. Eventually, though, it stopped near a stream. Pokkle could tell it was very alert, so he had to stay hidden. He managed to get an ok view of its torso while staying ducked behind some shrubs. He was far away, but his bow could still land a shot. He hadn’t gotten a very clear look at what it was yet, but he’d have plenty of time to check out the body as he brought it back to his camp. Pokkle got so washed away in thinking about how hard it would be to drag it back, but then snapped back to reality.
Steadily holding the bow, making sure his aim was precise, as he wasn’t able to see much of it except for the vital area he wanted to shoot. Beads of sweat clung to his face, and his teeth were clenched as tight as possible. He took a deep breath in, and as he exhaled, let go of the bow, launching the arrow.
He underestimated the animal’s reflexes. That was his first hint that his target wasn’t normal. No animal he had heard of before could start moving out of the way so fast. Luckily, his arrow was faster, striking it just a few inches behind where he was aiming. It caused the animal to fall over, and the clear stream was slowly dyed red with blood.
Pokkle triumphantly leapt up from the bushes, but that was when he instantly realized his target was not normal. It appeared to be some sort of horse, with a caramel coating. It did look like an elk from afar. However, it had no head. At around it’s neck area, it morphed into a human torso. A boy, who appeared to be the same age as him, maybe a bit younger, was attached to the horse’s body. He was shirtless, and had stringy blonde hair that toppled over grey eyes. The boy grunted and tried to push himself up, only to fall backwards into the stream.
“Holy shit,” whispered Pokkle. He knew what this was. It was a centaur. An actual, real centaur. If he could bring this thing back, he’d make a fortune.
Drawing back his bow to shoot for the kill, as it lay out cold in the stream, a sudden thought pierced his brain. Why kill it? That would make it seem more like a fraud. No, he had to bring the beast back alive. He couldn’t have it bleed to death either, however. He sighed and approached.
“Hey,” he said matter-of-factly, and giving it a soft kick. “You alive?” No response. Pokkle groaned, and knelt beside the arrow sticking out of it’s ribcage. He unzipped the navy fanny pack he kept attached to him and dug through until he found his first-aid kit.
He didn’t want to, but if it meant fame and fortune, he gladly would. This thing was gonna make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. No more trekking through the woods, killing animals for a living. This was it. This was his big break.
Who was the one to propose: Tbh, I think that was Kurapika? XD He got to Pokkle’s ask box first.
Who stressed more over wedding planning: Probably Pokkle.
Who decorated the house: They both had a hand in decorations, since Pokkle has many trophies/souvenirs from his travels and Kurapika would want to uphold as much culture from his days in the tribe as possible.
Who is more organized: PIKS. Pokkle leaves everything everywhere.
Who initiates bedroom fun: Now you see, Kurapika isn’t exactly a sexual person sooo… Pokkle, I guess? On those rare occasions when it does happen?
Who suggested kids first: Kurapika, technically. It was when they adopted Hayato.
Who’s more dominant: Pfft
Who’s the cuddler: Pokkle, without question.
What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Snuggling on the couch while discussing their recent work.
Who kills the spiders: IS THIS EVEN A QUESTION OH MY GOD
Who falls asleep first: It really depends on how taxing the day was for each of them, but it’s usually Pokkle. Kurapika can’t be bothered with luxuries like sleep. Sleepisfortheweak.
summary: The boy clearly didn’t understand anything that was happening in the game. So why was he there? -AU
pairing: Kurapokkle
for: 404pikanotfound and hunter-pokkle, you guys got me into this mess so this goes out to you <3
It was extremely clear to him that that kid was not into sports in the least. The quiet, blonde haired boy who was always sitting in isolation or burying his nose in a book, the one who thad a single friend that was his age. His answers to questions were always short and to the point, he did everything the way he wanted to do it. And all one had to do was watch him for a couple minutes in PE class, and it would become very obvious that he hated sports.
Pokkle, however, was an all-star. At least, in his little world. He loved sports, especially soccer. He loved sports that required all the agility and speed one could muster, and what he loved about soccer was the lack of hands and throwing involved. He could shoot a bow or a gun with ease. As a matter of fact, he had an extraordinary aim and loved target practice more than anything. But pellet guns and bows are just aiming and pulling your fingers or arms. There’s a lot more to throwing a ball that has to be taken into consideration, and you need to process those statistics in seconds to get a good pass or shot. Pokkle preferred to keep things simple. Kick the ball in the direction you want it to go, and it does. That was his philosophy.
But, naturally, there was a lot more to soccer than kicking a ball. The pink-haired boy had thought too little of the sport. Which was probably the main reason he stood in net. If the ball gets too close to you, stop it or push it away. It preserved simplicity, just how Pokkle liked it. As always, there were more factors than that to think about, but the boy didn’t mind. He ignored them until the ball came rolling towards him, sticking to his simple ways. Being goalie was still simpler and easier than playing on the field, a major factor that lead Pokkle to enjoy the game so much.
But one question lingered in his mind during every game. Something he shouldn’t even be noticing, and yet it still bothered him. Every single game, that kid would show up in the sidelines. He clearly wasn’t being forced to attend; if he was, he would definitely be reading in the top row, far away from the action. However, the nerdy and quiet boy would always sit closer to the field, watching the ball speed back and forth. You could tell by his expressions he only knew the basic rules; don’t use your hands and get the ball into the other teams net. However, whenever Pokkle blocked a goal, one could see his intense focus. He was staring at the net, almost seeming proud in a way, like a mother watching her daughter get and award. The spotlight never stayed on Pokkle for long, leaving him as soon as the ball was back in the game. But the goalie just had a strange feeling in his gut, a feeling that that kid wasn’t just there for the game.
Most days he tried to brush this feeling away. Told himself he was overthinking the whole deal, and he just came to the games to try and fit in. Pokkle had a tendency to let his mind wander a lot, anyways. But lately, it was throwing him off. He started letting the ball fly in the net more than usual, as conspiracy theories darted around in his brain. He knew the kid didn’t get soccer. He knew the kid wasn’t a big fan of social outings. But still, every game, there he was, sitting in the bleachers, watching.
It had to end soon.
After the game, he didn’t bother to change. He didn’t bother to shower, even though he knew he smelled like he just ran a marathon through a landfill in the desert. He scanned the crowd of students and parents exiting the stadium, until he spotted the yellow haired kid. Jogging up to him and grabbing his shoulder abruptly, he said a little more harsh than intended,
“Why do you show up?”
The kid, a little shocked and taken aback, took one step backwards and blinked. His face was blank, expressionless. The face of somebody trying too hard to lie.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “I like soccer, so I watch the games. Simple.”
Pokkle cocked an eyebrow. He didn’t buy this kids story, not for one second. “Oh yeah?” he retaliated, trying to sound superior. “Name one set play.”
The boy’s mind scrambled for an answer. “U-Um...heh...” was all the blonde managed to spit out. If he wasn’t lying before, he most definitely was now. He looked extremely guilty; sweaty, huge fake smile, nervously tapping his toes, eyes darting around, probably searching for a way to get out of the conversation. He had all the symptoms, he was clearly a liar.
“Yes!” Pokkle cried triumphantly. “Knew that you didn’t know a thing about soccer!” As the goalie leaped into the air in victory, he stumbled backwards a little. It was just then that he realized the kid was taller than him, and he was standing on his tip-toes to size him up.
“H-Hey,” the kid stuttered. “Not true. I know some stuff about soccer...”
Pokkle gave a weak shrug. “The basic rules, sure,” he responded in a more casual tone. “So, why do you come?”
The quiet geek sighed in defeat. “I don’t know.”
Pokkle blinked. He got an odd feeling inside. That was it? This kid, that for some reason kept catching his eye, who kept showing up to games when he barely knew anything about them, the kid who sent thoughts and theories racing through Pokkle’s mind that went so far as to throw him off when he needed focus...and not even he himself knew why he came?
“It just feels...right, in a sense,” the boy continued. “Sometimes I just see the players, and feel like I need to go. I don’t know if I want to fit in, or if I’m just bored and have nothing better to do, or what. So there you have it.”
Pokkle was still in shock. But, he supposed it did make sense. When you were on the unpopular side, nearly invisible, I guess you would feel a desire to go to something a lot of people attended. But he still felt like it was wrong. The least the kid could do was learn...and suddenly, another one of Pokkle’s “brilliant” ideas was forming.
“Do you want me to teach you?”
That got the kid’s attention. He looked a lot less flustered after that statement. He was reluctant to show it, but Pokkle could tell he was interested.
“Not how to play, of course, just the rules, how to get a better understanding of the game..”
“No, no,” the boy cut him off. “I want to learn how to play. I don’t wanna join the team or anything, but I’d rather actually participate. Would that work?”
Pokkle grinned. “Fine,” he said, sounding happier than he should. “Go to the park Sunday morning. Around 10 o’clock. Don’t be late, kid.”
Pokkle then started walking back towards the change rooms. His odour was bad, people nearby were giving him looks. “Kurapika,” the boy called. Pokkle stopped walking and turned around to face the blonde.
“My name is Kurapika,” he said.
Pokkle smiled. Kurapika. It was a pretty nice name. He’d remember it, for sure.
Soon, Kurapika faded into the crowd, and Pokkle was one of the only people in the change room.
“Sunday,” he whispered to himself. “See you soon, Kurapika.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES:
Eeeh, not much romance in this one. I might make a sequel if I feel like it. ho knows. If I did, it’d be a lot fluffier. This was hard to write, since I know next to nothing about soccer. I am Kurapika. Anyways, this is my first contribution to this tiny, tiny ship. I hope that the few people that read this like it :3
