#he's lucky I have grown to control my emotions and not lash out

[garrettwrites]

When someone tells you they don't like hugs, that's not an invitation for you to "cure them". It is not a "you" thing, although sometimes it might be. You thinking "they have to get used to it" because "your hugs are different" and "that's how you show love" is not a valid argument. Hugging them out of the blue as a goodbye is not cool either. Fuck off.

[dairy-farmer]

bruce strongly believes that the easiest way to get tim's attention is to confide his suicidal thoughts. 'Sweetheart, daddy's about to kill himself' and boom tim is tugging down his pants and goes 'no!! You need my kitty right now!! 🥺🥺 it will help you get over bad feelings! 🥰🥰'

no because i keep saying that if bruce and tim had met online then bruce would be the adult who holds himself hostage and threatens to kill himself while 13 year old tim is trying to talk him out of it at the breakfast table before school starts!!!!!!😩😩😩😩

i feel like tim would've been very 🥺🥺🥺 in the beginning but then he just starts rolling his eyes and peeling down his underwear, spreading the lips to reveal his cunt (waxed bare just how bruce likes it) and asking "is this what you want? will this make you feel better?"

like bruce is the level of toxic that will threaten suicide to get tim's attention because he knows that tim will absolutely drop everything to go to his side.

tim's on a date?

bruce will send him a text of the view from a roof with a message of 'thinking of ending it fr 😕'.

because he really was when he heard tim was on a date.

bruce almost couldn't stop himself from drinking bleach when he heard that he'd spent the night at jason's apartment (and he made sure to to text tim that).

and tim???

well tim has learned through trial and error that there's really only one way to get bruce out of that mental rut when he's like that.

tim has tried talking with bruce, reasoning with him, hugging him, holding him, feeding him, cuddling, and kissing him-

but the only thing that is guaranteed to work and get bruce off that metaphorical (and sometimes literal) ledge is pussy.

bare. raw pussy.

tim tried condoms in the beginning because he'd just started the sex-ed module of his health class but bruce had huffed the entire time. been disgruntles at hacing to wear and just overall been in a pretty foul mood about having to fucking tim with a barrier between them.

so tim bit the bullet and put himself on birth control.

it was worth it because bruce instantly livened up. and so long as tim made him cum and fucked him for hours he'd calm down. so long as tim rode him long enough that the 'bubbling thoughts' in his head faded away and all bruce wanted to do was to recline on a soft bed and drift to sleep- he'd be okay.

sometimes tim isn't lucky enough that bruce calls tim from his room and tells him about his 'dark feelings'. so tim is left with a pussy full of cum and a half asleep batman on some random roof in the middle of gotham.

maybe tim should be more 'sensitive' about bruce threatening to off himself but he can't help but have grown a little desensitized to it. and how couldn't he?

when tim was thirteen he'd get a call or text from bruce like that at least twice a week.

so tim had more or less developed a sort of 'c'mon bruce eat a snickers bar, you're not you when you're hungry' attitude.

bruce being able to touch tim's body calms him down. like how a pacifier calms down a screaming baby.

bruce had once been angry after a rogue got away and been lashing out at anyone who came near so tim had no choice but to climb into his lap and unzip his pants, shoving his cup out of the way. bruce had been gritting out a demand for tim to get off, that he wasn't in the mood.

but tim ignored that because bruce didn't throw him off and because bruce was never NOT in the mood.

tim got about halfway down his cock before bruce launched up, pinned tim to the console, and fucked him hard hard, fast, and mercilessly. beating up tim's pussy like he'd wanted to do to that rogue.

when bruce picked tim up from school he'd sometimes have his brows furrowed in stress and he'd finger tim at every stop light, curling his fingers in deep as tim clenched around them.

bruce is the most mentally and emotional unstable person tim has ever known.

but he's also tim (and his pussy's) responsability.

and tim would sooner die before he'd fail the self appointed responsibility of being bruce wayne's mood stabilizer.

[nightwingsaregoths]

Thinking about Secretkeeper again

You know, I’ve heard people asking what she even saw in Morrowseer. I’ve always wondered if Morrowseer, manipulative as he was, used to pretend to be passionate about Secretkeeper. If Morrowseer had managed to captivate the dragon who would become his wife (they’re married according to the wiki!), if he knew exactly how to make her shiver, heart racing until she fell head over heels for someone who didn’t feel the same way. If he knew the exact words to make her feel beautiful, lucky enough to be noticed by an advisor of the queen. 

And then Secretkeeper becomes his wife and has to act the part, presenting a neutral mask that everyone had to see and expect of the wife of the queen’s top advisor. Secretkeeper has to worry about everyone who’s whispering and judging and spreading gossip like wildfire on their island, while Morrowseer chooses to focus on his work instead of her. She controls her face around him and is supposed to be calm and perfect when there’s really so much more that’s underneath the surface.

And Farsight, her best friend, is always the one to forgive her after she lashes out and finally lets her emotions show. Farsight’s the one who reaches out and calls her “Secretkeeper, dear,”, and tries her best to be kind to her best friend. That is, until Farsight goes to the continent and never returns. 

And when Secretkeeper has to hide her biggest secret, Moonwatcher, she has to stay away and only return for a few hours to see her dragonet, while worrying that she’ll be found and be taken back to the volcano and if anyone discovers her powers, dear moons– (she remembers how the NightWings treated a dragon with very different powers, but she fears that the one thing she loves most in the world will have to deal with the constant gossip, or the stares and the judging, and she doesn’t want that.)

That is, until the volcano erupts for the second time and her husband is gone, and she’s relieved, as much as she may have loved him. Then she has to move to the rainforest where she’s been hiding Moonwatcher all along. She brings her daughter back and deals with being labeled a traitor, before making the decision to send her daughter off to a new school created by the Dragonets of Destiny. 

And then a 2000 year old animus that she heard of as a boogeyman just comes back and promptly leads part of her tribe off into battle and Secretkeeper has seen and dealt with a lot. I wonder how she felt by the fact that Moon went to a complete other CONTINENT. 

Anyway, please don’t mind my rambling about a minor character that I’ve grown to love.

[mydogisveryadorbs]

blue ain't your color | jj maybank

masterlist

summary: song fic based on blue ain’t your color by keith urban.

warnings: mentions of mentally and physically abusive relationships, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, angst, fluff, v soft jj

PSA: this is not in any way meant to idealize or romanticize abusive relationships. if you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship please get help. below are some resources and learning tools. 

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1 (800) 799 – 7233

Love is Respect – National Teen Dating Abuse Hotline: 1 (866) 331 – 9474

more hot lines and info: https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

learn more: https://www.thehotline.org/psa/

lyrics in bold

3.8k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

I can see you over there

Starring at your drink

Watchin' that ice sink

All alone tonight

You look down at your drink, moving the straw in a circular motion causing the ice to swirl around creating a small tornado.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize you've been waiting here for almost two hours. 

Your boyfriend was supposed to meet you at Topper’s party at 9. In the first thirty minutes, you weren't surprised. Liam, your kook boyfriend of 10 months, was late for almost everything, so this didn't come as a shock to you. 

When the one hour mark hit you were honestly quite worried. What if he was in an accident? What if he got jumped? Maybe your thoughts were most likely irrational, but you couldn't help but worry about your boyfriend.

One hour later, you had gotten past the worrying stage. Now you were simply angry, no, furious at him. Had he stood you up? Did he forget about you? These thoughts were definitely more rational. It wouldn't be the first time Liam stood you up, but you would make sure it was the last. 

At the beginning of your relationship, everything had been sunshine and butterflies. About two months in, however, he asked you to stop seeing your friends.

You see you were a born and raised pogue. Your dad was a close friend of Big John so you had practically grown up with John B, JJ, and Pope, in more recent years becoming close friends with Kiara.

At first, it was little things. Liam would get upset if you left to hang out with the pogues instead of him. Then one day, he asked you to stop seeing them all together. You, of course, retaliated, telling him that you would never leave your friends. But Liam had a way with words, and not a good way. He told you for months that your friends would never love you and that you were lucky that he had even taken pity on you. Slowly, you started to believe him. You stopped seeing the pogues, pushing everyone who truly loved you out of your life.

Liam became more and more distant as the months went on. He would leave you almost every night to drink and party, not even bothering to let you know where he was headed. The two of you had been fighting nonstop for several weeks. It had gotten physical only a few times and the next morning he would apologize profusely, so you stayed.

Seeing him walk in with two girls wrapped around his waist, nearly two and a half hours late, was the last straw for you.

Grabbing your purse, you walked up to Liam, who's eyes widened with the realization the moment he saw you.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he says, slightly slurring his words as his arms still holding the two skinny blondes at his sides, “It's not what it looks like.” You can see his red-rimmed eyes and dilated pupils, telling you that he was coked out. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that this was it for you. “Really, Liam,” you snap back, “‘Cause it looks like we are done here.”

Liam’s eyes widen in shock, never having seen you lash out like this before. He shakes it off and his expression quickly contorts into one of disgust. “Okay,” he says with a shrug, “Good luck finding someone else to take pity on a whore like you, dirty pogue.” He walks away with the two girls, leaving you in shock.

It takes a moment for you to realize that you had just ended this almost one-year relationship. 

The first emotion you feel is one of freedom and relief. No more would you have to be held down by this weight of not being able to do and say what you want.

That feeling slowly dissipates as the feeling of dread starts to overcome it. You had pushed away all of your friends for this boy who had let you go like you were nothing to him. Maybe you were nothing.

You walk back to the bar area, grabbing another drink, feeling the need to drown away your sorrows.

And chances are

You're sittin' here in this bar

'Cause he ain't gonna treat you right

JJ Maybank hated kook parties with a passion.

Thankfully he hadn't had the opportunity to attend too many of them in his lifetime. But now that John B was macking on Sarah Cameron, it wasn't uncommon for the blonde boy to get dragged along to one of these events.

John B had left JJ to fend for himself as soon as they had arrived at the party, slipping off somewhere to find Sarah. JJ looked around the extravagant home that belonged to one of his enemies, Topper Thornton. His ring clad fingers fiddled with an expensive-looking vase, trying to find the perfect moment to snag it and slip away.

JJ’s eyes filtered through the crowd when they landed on something, or rather someone, that he had least expected to see.

His hand slipped from the vase, letting his gaze drink you in. You definitely looked different. Your once long hair was now cut just below your shoulders and your typical style of denim shorts and a cropped shirt was exchanged for a lavish-looking dress and sparkly stilettos.

JJ admits that he probably wouldn't have recognized you if he hadn't spent so many years unable to take his eyes off of you whenever the pogues were together.

The boy had loved his life long best friend since the day she clocked a boy in the face for making fun of JJ’s worn-out clothes. They were seven. In addition to being the day JJ had met (Y/N) and John B, it was also the day he fell in love with the (Y/E/C) eyed girl.

When you started dating your kook boyfriend at the beginning of your junior year, JJ was initially devastated. He soon brought himself to realize, however, that a lowlife like him would never be able to deserve someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as you. His thoughts were confirmed when you abruptly stopped hanging around the pogues and him. You were too good for him. The blonde boy had no idea of the pain that Liam had caused you in the past ten months.

Now looking at you, JJ could see that you were upset. He had gotten really good at analyzing your body language over the many years of being your best friend.

All thoughts of stealing the vase flew out of his mind as his feet started in your direction.

Well, it's probably not my place

But I'm gonna say it anyway

'Cause you look like

You haven't felt the fire

Had a little fun

Hadn't had a smile in a little while

You felt a figure move to sit in the bar stool chair next to you, but you choose to ignore whoever it is, not particularly feeling up to socializing with a contemptuous kook after what you just went through.

The figure didn't move after a few minutes so you turn to look at them with a glare in your eyes, ready to snap at them and ask them to leave you alone. Your gaze immediately softens as you realize the person next to you is in fact the last person you would ever expect to see at a party like this, JJ Maybank.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you continue to stare at the side profile of the blonde boy who hasn't yet turned to face you. 

Everything you had done so well to hide over the last ten years of knowing and loving him comes rushing back. Your love for the boy next to you consumes every fiber of your being. 

A lone tear falls down your cheek as you begin to curse yourself and Liam. How did I let him control me into giving this up? This feeling?

Blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

JJ finally turns his head to look at you and feels his entire resolve crumble. You were crying. The sight nearly breaks his heart in two.

His eyes lock with yours and he can see the pain and heartache swirling within them.

“What did he do to you,” JJ mutters, letting his eyes roam the crowd for the boy he despises most in the world. Almost a year of suppressed anger starts to bubble up to the surface.

“JJ,” you whimper.

The sadness and hopelessness in your voice makes every ounce of anger in him evaporate as he turns his head to look at you again. The look in your eyes tells him that the kook boy had hurt you worse than he ever knew.

JJ wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms and never let anything else in the world harm you. His hands itch to wipe the tears off your face and pull your head to his chest.

However, JJ also wants you to be as comfortable as possible and he's not sure if you're ready for the amount of love he has to give you just yet.

You surprise the blonde boy by reaching out to your arms out to him. The blonde wastes no time in standing up and pulling your body flush to his chest.

Everyone else in the world disappears as the two of you clutch each other with all you have. Both of you realize how much you had missed the comfort of each other's embrace. 

You're not sure how long you stand there like that, face nuzzled into JJ’s shoulder as the boy strokes your hair comfortingly.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble into his shirt, not willing to pull away from the warmth he radiates.

JJ’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as he pulls away enough to look down at you. “What do you mean,” he asks with a softness in his voice that is reserved for you only, gently lifting your chin so that you are looking into his beautiful cerulean eyes.

You sniffle. “I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for breaking down in front of you. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess. But most of all, I'm sorry for ever believing that I could live without you. I-I mean if it weren't for you I don't know what I would do. I understand if you don't want to talk to-” your ramble is suddenly cut off by JJ pressing his lips to yours.

The boy knows that this is probably not the best time to confess his feelings towards you, but he can't watch you talk down about yourself like that anymore. Do you not know how much he adores you? 

The kiss is soft and passionate. JJ can taste your salty tears on his slightly chapped lips as they work against yours. Both of you poor every ounce of emotion you have into the kiss. 

JJ reluctantly pulls away when the two of you run out of air, placing his forehead delicately on yours as your arms wrap around his neck.

I'm tellin' you

You don't need that guy

It's so black and white

He's stealin' your thunder

Baby, blue ain't your color

Both of you pant as you look into each other's eyes. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” JJ says, as the smile you cherish so much graces his features.

“Really?” you ask and JJ can hear the vulnerability in your voice. What did that shithead do to you to make you so insecure?

“You have no idea, baby,” he says, tenderly kissing away the tear that has slipped out of your eye and onto your cheek.

Not having the words to express how you feel about the boy in front of you, you pull his head back down, kissing him so sweetly that it makes his knees buckle.

“JJ,” you whisper as you pull away, but you never get to finish your statement because you are suddenly ripped out of his embrace.

“You fucking whore,” Liam seethes at you taking a stride towards you and you instinctively take a step back. “You break up with me and two minutes later you've moved onto another guy. Slut.” His words cut you deep and you know by the tone of his voice that a punch to the gut or a slap to the face is coming. Liam raises his hand and you brace yourself for impact, but it never comes.

The sound of yelling fills your senses and you open your eyes to see JJ punching Liam in the face repeatedly. You are frozen as you watch the scene in front of you.

“JJ,” you hear John B yell, turning to look at him, “You're gonna kill him.”

Your eyes widen in realization at his words and you take a step forward.

“JJ,” you call, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of everyone yelling around you. You clear your throat and try again, louder. “JJ.”

This time JJ stops mid punch, turning to look at you. Fear fills your body when you see that his wide, normally baby blue eyes are nearly black.

His gaze softens as he takes in your anxious look.

JJ steps away from the beat-up boy and you see a few of his friends pull Liam’s limp body away. You lock your eyes back to JJ’s and he takes a careful step towards you causing you to involuntarily flinch back slightly.

I'm not tryna

Be another just

Pick you up

Kinda guy

Tryna drink you up

Tryna take you home

He wants to cry out at the sight. Don't you know that he would rather die than ever hurt you? 

You do know this, and you're not afraid of the boy in the slightest, but the last five minutes have put you on edge.

Seeing the broken look in the blonde’s eyes, you take quick steps toward his body, wrapping him in your embrace. He melts into your arms, allowing his face to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

The crowd that had formed around the fight disperses, realizing the show is over.

“(Y/N).” The sound of your name being called pulls your attention away from the sweet boy in your arms.

You pull away from JJ slightly, still keeping an arm around his bicep.

Looking over, you see John B standing to the side with Sarah Cameron. You had heard about the two of them getting together and you suddenly realize why JJ happened to be at this party.

The sadness in John B’s eyes as he looks at you breaks your heart. The two of you have been like sister and brother your whole lives and, besides JJ, he was the hardest for you to stop talking to.

You feel JJ’s grip on you loosen, urging you to go to John. The two of you walk towards each other and John B pulls you into his arms. 

“I missed you, (Y/N/N),” he says unto your hair, “So much.”

You smile, tears softly rolling down your cheeks. “I missed you too, JB,” you say, pulling away to look at JJ who looks back with a sad smile on his face.

But I just don't understand

How another man

Can take your sun

And turn it ice cold

The four of you decided it was best to leave. John B dropped Sarah off at her house and drove the three of you back to the Chateau. Your stomach drops at the sight of the small shack.

JJ notices your facial expression, placing his hand softly on top of yours. “You okay?” he asks gently as John B parks the van.

You nod with a small smile and JJ helps you out of the van, holding your hand as he leads you to the porch. You stop walking, causing the two boys to turn around and look at you.

“I'm sorry,” you say, tears pooling in your eyes again. JJ gives you a knowing look. “(Y/N),” he says, almost sternly.

“No,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Let me talk.” JJ nods and John B looks at you expectantly. “I left you. Both of you. I- Liam, he just made me feel so useless and I didn't want to be a bother to you guys anymore.”

JJ lets out a sound, almost like a growl, and pulls you into a hug. “You are not useless, (Y/N),” he says seriously, “You are so important, to both of us, and we missed you so much.”

You nod into his chest as John B comes to wrap his arms around both of you.

The three of you group hug and you sigh contently, happy to be back with your boys.

Well, I've had enough to drink

And it's makin'

Me think that I just might

Tell you if I were a painter I wouldn't change ya

I'd just paint you bright

John B helps JJ set up the pull out while you change into a pair of John B’s sweats and JJ’s t-shirt. John B says goodnight and goes to “hit the hay” as he puts it, leaving you and JJ alone again.

“I'll sleep on the other couch and you can take the bed,” he says sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

The two of you settle into your “beds”, but you can't seem to fall asleep with so many thoughts running through your mind.

Everything that has happened since you left the pogues seems like one big sad blur. Your mind wanders to JJ. What does this mean for you two? 

“(Y/N),” the voice you love so much calls. You hum in response. “You ‘wake?” he asks. You sit up in the pullout shaking your head.

“Can't sleep,” you say, rubbing your eyes. 

JJ sits up as well. “M’sorry, baby,” the nickname makes your heart flutter.

You open your arms for the boy who looks at you warily. “Are you sure, (Y/N),” he asks. You nod quickly and he stands up, falling into the pullout and wrapping you into his arms. He tucks your head under his chin, pulling you closer.

“JJ,” you ask.

It's his turn to hum in response. “This may be weird for you, but I feel like I just have to say it,” you tell him. JJ pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. He's worried about what you are going to say but tries to hide it for your sake. “I love you, J.”

JJ smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his nose with yours in an Eskimo kiss. “I love you too,” he says sincerely, but you're afraid he doesn't understand what you mean.

“No, J,” you say, looking away from his eyes, “I love you. Like, I'm in love with you.”

The blonde boy only smiles bigger. He leans down pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, pulling away when you run out of air. JJ trails sweet kisses down your jaw and neck before placing one last kiss on your lips.

“I'm in love with you too (Y/N),” he says kissing your forehead. JJ wonders how he went so long without being able to kiss you and hold you. Even after only confessing a few hours ago, it feels so natural to have you in his arms. The thought of not having you makes his heart ache. 

“I have to ask you something, but you can say no and it won't change anything and I understand that this is hard because of everything that just happened,” JJ rambles. You kiss his jaw softly, urging him to continue. “Will you be mine. Ya know. Like my girlfriend, or whatever.”

You smile wide. “Of course I'll be yours, J.”

JJ copies your smile leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

He pulls away, snuggling into you, and the both of you bask in the feeling of being in each other's arms. Your hand reaches up to play with JJ’s hair as your eyes start to droop.

“Love ya, pretty girl.”

“Love you too, J.”

'Cause blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzin' on the wall

But darling, it don't match your eyes

You are sitting down on a beach towel, watching the sun slowly fall into the ocean, lighting the sky with a beautiful rainbow of colors. Your feet are outstretched in front of you and your hands prop you up behind your back. The Outer Banks heat is making your skin warm, but you don't mind, letting the steadily depleting sun hit your skin.

You watch as JJ catches another wave, surfing it perfectly. You giggle as he raises his hand in a fist, clapping for him. 

It's been two weeks since you finally ended things with Liam. You were able to mend things with the rest of the pogues and Kiara and Pope welcomed you back with open arms. Things with JJ have been going amazing. The two of you agreed to take things slowly seeing as you were just getting out of a toxic relationship. It was different to finally be in a place with JJ where you weren't afraid to show him and tell him how you feel, but you loved it.

JJ runs towards you, gripping his board in one hand as the other pushes back his blonde locks.

When he gets to your towel, JJ throws down his board and plops down next to you, pulling you into a sweet hug.

You giggle. “You're all wet, J,” you say, not making any move to get out of his warm embrace. The boy peppers your face with soft kisses causing you to giggle even more.

A few minutes later you are seated in between JJ’s legs and he has his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, J,” you say, still watching the sunset.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” JJ says kissing your neck. He begins humming the tune to a song you recognize. 

“Blue ain't your color, umm mm,” he sings, “No, no baby, come here baby, let me light up your world.”

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

[toorusbaby]

second choice, pt. 4

summary: being in love with hajime iwaizumi is like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. it’s thrilling as it is exciting, but you feel a little lightheaded... because he doesn’t know how you feel. the worst part? he thinks you’re in love with his best friend.

warnings: just pure fluff, oikawa cockblocks, slow burn, slight angst if you squint real hard

word count: 1,885

part five here

Your face burned at how blunt your words sounded when spoken aloud and it took extreme self-control to not facepalm yourself in embarrassment. You nervously bit the inside of your cheek. 

That definitely sounded better in my head, you thought. 

The only sounds you could hear were the shuffling of your feet beside Iwaizumi. The ace however, was taken aback by your response and had remained silent to gather his thoughts. 

She wanted to spend time with me? Wouldn’t she want to spend time with Oikawa instead since she likes him?

Unable to hold his words back, the blushing boy had blurted out the question that had bothered him for months. 

 “Y/N, do you like Oikawa? Romantically, I mean,” He asked, his voice slightly wavering. Nonetheless, he didn’t look away from your face; he wanted to see your entire reaction. Iwaizumi was terrified to hear what you were going to say next. Even though he was hoping you didn’t feel that way towards his best friend, the spiker knew there was a low possibility of you returning his feelings anyways. Despite his self-doubt, your answer still mattered to him. When he heard you chuckle, Iwaizumi was confused.

“You keep asking me questions about Oikawa, Iwa,” you sighed and twirled the pom-pom keychain on your purse. “I won’t ask why, but this is the last time we’re bringing him up today.” You teasingly scolded the ace with a small grin, approving of his quick nod. 

“I think Oikawa is extremely attractive, not to mention charming. He’s incredibly sweet,” you started off. 

Gross. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but grimace.

“But I only see him as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less,” you shrugged your shoulders. The adrenaline in your veins gave you the courage to say one last thing. You turned your head and cheekily grinned at Iwaizumi’s indistinguishable expression. “I do like someone else though, even though he’s pretty clueless for a smart person.” 

Iwaizumi felt his chest constrict at your words but he resisted the intense urge to question who the lucky person was. Although he was silent when the two of you continued to walk, the volleyball player’s mind was filled with questions. If you didn’t like Oikawa in a romantic way, which other boy were you interested in? Iwaizumi was aware of your friend circle; the only boys you interacted with were on the volleyball team. As far as he knew, you weren’t into younger guys so he could count out the underclassmen. Iwaizumi also wasn’t suspicious of either Hanamaki and Matsukawa since jokesters weren’t your type. So who the hell could it be?

Unless the person was from another school. 

Hajime had to stop himself from clenching his fists at the thought of you swooning over a student from Karasuno. Or Date Tech. Maybe Shiratorizawa? Please God, not Shiratorizawa, he pleaded internally. But in truth, the school didn’t matter. Although he was desperate to know who the mystery boy was, Iwaizumi respected your privacy. If you wanted to tell him who the boy was, Iwaizumi would allow you to do so on your own merit.

He just really wished it was him. 

“You see that over there?” Your voice broke the green eyed boy’s train of thought. Startled, Iwaizumi looked in the direction of your finger. When his eyes landed on what you were pointing to, he was surprised. How did he not see that earlier? It was nearly impossible to miss. Iwaizumi quickly looked at you, only to be met with your twinkling eyes. Despite the icy air, you felt warm inside. The beaming smile on Iwaizumi’s face was definitely worth the cold walk. It was the giddy sparkle in your eyes that warmed Iwaizumi’s cheeks. 

“I figured you’d like it. But,” You slid your purse off and clutched it to your chest. The spiky haired boy watched you, oblivious to what you were about to initiate. Before he could question you, your body positioned itself into a running stance. “The last one there loses!” You shouted and took off. Iwaizumi blinked to himself, clearly at a loss for words. Seconds later, the blushing wing spiker found himself running after you, shouting at you to be careful. 

༺♥༻

“All I’m saying is that you should’ve never tried to go up against me,” Iwaizumi snickered, the rare sight of a smug smirk making you roll your eyes. 

“Well someone’s cocky,” You flicked the volleyball player’s forehead, eliciting a small groan from the tall boy. “But we all know that I let you win.” You grinned.  

There the two of you stood, on top of the wooden arched bridge that hovered above the koi fish pond you had grown to love over the years. Watching the koi fish never failed to comfort you, even if you had always done so alone when visiting Osaki. Today however, was different. Although you felt as if the pond was a ‘secret’ of yours, you decided to bring the special boy who meant just as much to you, along.

Despite the many clouds in the sky, a bit of sunlight had been able to shine through. The branches of willow trees that dangled over the pond that was scattered with lily pads was truly a sight to behold. With his body leaning against the railing of the wooden bridge, one would assume that Iwaizumi would be focused on the swimming koi fish just below him. After all, he was surprisingly fond of fish; the beautiful scenery before him was an additional plus. Iwaizumi never took mother nature for granted. But if that was truly the case, why couldn’t the green eyed boy take his eyes off of you?

Beside him, you were also against the bridge, your chin resting in the palm of your hand. From the way strands of your hair fell onto your face because of the wind, to the way a small crinkle formed at the corner of your right eye when you smiled down at the pond, Iwaizumi noticed it all. 

The distance between you wasn’t large by any means; it was close enough for the boy to truly study your features. The fading acne scar on your cheek, the tiny zit on your chin, a small beauty mark or two in different places. The way your mascara was a bit smudged under your lower lashes due to moving around the entire day, walking through the smoke of barbecues at the festival. The way your lipgloss had naturally faded away even after you reapplied, but hints of the color remained, reminding Iwaizumi of strawberries on a warm, summer day. 

Despite what you’d consider flaws, he thought you still looked breathtaking. Before today, neither of you had been so close in proximity physically; everything was always from a distance. However, after spending the entire day with you, the hours filled with laughter, teasing, and smiles, Iwaizumi had never felt closer to any other person, physically or emotionally.  

A large koi fish had caught your attention, surprising you at how its white scales sparkled from under the water. “Haji, look at that one!” With widened eyes and a beaming grin, you placed a hand on his arm. Lifting your gaze away from the pond, you turned your head to face the boy beside you, whose green eyes were already on yours. 

You had never had the chance to really look at Iwaizumi’s face before, especially not up close. Hajime’s dark brown hair actually had a few lighter strands, a likely result of being out in the sun for hours on end in the summer. His warm green eyes had flecks of grey within, framed by the long dark lashes always made your knees weak. You could tell that his pink lips were soft, seeing as Iwaizumi always applied a layer of Burt’s Bees lip balm; you could smell the faint scent of peppermint from where you were standing. From the obvious details to the smaller ones such as the very few fading acne scars and the small chicken pox scar Iwaizumi had next to his left eye, your mouth became dry. He was just so handsome.

Iwaizumi felt his cheeks burn at the thought of you observing his features. The way your eyes wandered across his face caused the volleyball player to purse his lips together, a wave of shyness washing over him. Was there something on his face? 

Suddenly, you felt a small itch in your nose. Quickly, you turned away to quietly sneeze, awkwardly grinning afterwards. “Oh, excuse me,” you sniffled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear to face the boy once again. This time, Iwaizumi’s lips were formed into a small frown.

Way to ruin the moment, Y/N. You sighed to yourself and pulled your sleeves out far enough to bury your clenched hands underneath the turtleneck. 

“It’s pretty cold, huh? Even so— Iwa? What are you...” 

Iwaizumi stood straight, eyebrows furrowed as he began to undo his scarf. With a sigh and click of his tongue, he expertly wrapped the navy blue fabric around your neck, lifting your hair out of the way. Frozen at his sudden action, your arms felt like jell-o at your sides.

“Geez, you’re gonna to get sick, Y/N. Why didn’t you bring a scarf in the first place? Or gloves?” Iwaizumi gently scolded, huffing in the process. His green eyes were quick to glance at your clenched fists that were hiding underneath your now-extended sleeves. 

The feeling of Iwaizumi’s body heat along with his signature pine scent that lingered on his scarf caused blood to rush to your face. You were sure you’d pass out at any given moment. Much to your luck (and confusion), you remained conscious, staring at the boy with wide eyes, especially when he began to remove the black gloves from his hands. 

“Iwa,” You called out, placing a hand on his to stop his actions. “You don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, your eyes darting away from his face in embarrassment. If you thought you had been shy around the volleyball player before, this situation took the cake. You couldn’t help but stare at your makeshift sweater paws.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. If you catch a cold—“

“Iwa-chan, what are you, my mom?” 

The infamous death glare Iwaizumi sent in your direction to intimidate you only caused a loud laugh to escape your lips. It wasn’t long before you accidentally snorted, causing you to cover your mouth to laugh even more. At the sound of your snort, the ace’s frown morphed into a smile before he chuckled himself. With a lopsided grin, Iwaizumi began to slide his gloves on to your ice cold hands. You didn’t stop him. 

“Even without him here, it’s almost as if Shittykawa’s presence remains.”

“You make it sound like he’s dead, Iwa.”

“He will be if he keeps influencing you like this, you dummy.”

Iwaizumi’s teasing smile made you grin cheekily. There was truly no other person in the world that could compare to the boy leaning his side against the railing before you. 

“Shush,” you joked and used your now gloved hand to play with the ends of the soft scarf around your neck. It wasn’t just any scarf though.

It was Iwaizumi’s.

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[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 017

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: New chapter! Sorry, it's late! Took a while to edit this one. Evie's birthday bash comes with a flood of feelings and heavy smut! Billy struggles with his heart when emotions get too real. xoxo

Ask box & Tag list are both open!! Come and chat with me after! :)

Chapter 17: Heart-Shaped Shadow Box

   Monday was strange. News spread like wildfire. Carol Perkins and Evie Fenny had a civil interaction. See it and be amazed. All’s well in the animal kingdom again.

   Order restored. Clouds opening. Roll on snare drum followed by velvet curtains.

   Even the snow was thawing to wet slush.

   It all happened at Tommy’s dented locker near the English hallway’s corner. Evie stopped. Hit her mark flawlessly. Found the light. Flashed a pleasant smile which earned Carol’s lip twitching in response.

   And the crowd went wild.

   “Tommy and I are sitting with you. At lunch. Might want to warn Steve and Heather to put the claws away. We’ll come bearing gifts even. Well...promises of gifts we'll deliver on later. Not school-friendly.” Carol fished for a pack of mints in Tommy’s pocket. This was clearly not up for debate.

   “Consider it an early promise for your birthday.” Tommy had added with a beam of teeth.

   “Sure. Cool. See you guys.” Evie held a book to her chest and continued to her locker. Switching items around before she went back to meet Billy at his. Spotted the faded leather of his jacket and ducked a little to sneak upon him.

   A feline on the prowl ready to overtake the dominant male lion.

   "Did you know you're the only girl around here who doesn't cover herself in that Love's Baby Soft crap? The grown woman perfume gives you away, chica." Billy spoke without turning. Evie's made an annoyed sound and dropped her shoulders, inches behind him. "Not a complaint. I like the thrill of it."

   Blue eyes peered to see her there and Evie got the urge to stick her tongue out as a child would. Didn't want to tempt Billy though. Or did she?

   "Yeah, yeah." Air blew a curl from her face. One shoulder nestled into the locker next to him. “Feels weird today.”

   “You’re not getting into a fight for once.” He remarked, smacking metal shut to lean back against it while the student body bustled along. Eyes slipped down and Evie pouted, straightening.

   "My eyes are up here, Hargrove." Two fingers rose to gesture at them.

   Little extra work put into her eyeshadow and lipstick today. Little extra time picking out outfits that weren't for Fredrick. Can't go wrong with a loud print that looked like it was out of a creepy hotel's carpet. Or a short skirt with her tights. Evie felt especially positive about her body today.

   She didn't eat anything bad this morning. See. She was getting better. She was stopping because she was in control and could stop this sickness at any time she wanted.

   "Sure. I'll get there." Gorgeous lashes batted to knock the wind out of her, but Evie puffed. Billy's gaze lifted, flicking with amusement because she was too easy to rile up. Too easy to get blushing. "Must feel weird," he'd repeated, "no battle."

   “That could be. Farewell badass reputation. I knew you all of two days.” She sighed for dramatic effect and he actually smiled, head shaking before an arm swept around Evie’s shoulders. Pulled her taut and flush into his fire.

   For once, she didn’t look at anyone else.

   Leaned into Billy and walked along as if she was meant to be there.

   As if they didn’t look funny together.

   That was a beautiful thing this morning. Something that made her feel full and in control.

   “Weirded me out when Mona let me in to collect Max and you three were snoring on the pull-out.”

   “Sweet that you carried Max home.” Evie teased. “What a good big brother you are.”

   “Yeah, just when I warm up, she edges off me.”

   “How’s that?” Evie peered up at his face.

   “Don’t know, she hasn’t been her annoying self. Growing up or whatever. Might be all her friends.” Billy only shrugged. “Snappier at me. Quieter. Guess I deserve it. She stays out of dad's way, but he has an opinion on everything she does.”

   “She’s a teenage girl. We all have our moments. I'm sure it's not easy for either of you.” They turned down another hallway. Billy stiffened so she allowed him to change the subject.

   “I did have good luck on my Saturday quest.” He sounded genuinely triumphant. Lips turned into her curls to mutter. "Small victories."

   Around them, lockers shuffled and smacked about. Chattering students moved to let them pass. Evie Fenny on the arm of his royal highness, Billy Hargrove. King. What a lucky girl she was.

   If they held her echoing heart to their ears, they'd probably hear rich ocean waves. Evie wondered if Billy had reached deep within in, if he'd find twinkling sea glass and opalescent shells

   “Yeah, you were gone the entire day, where’d you go?” Evie had laughed and he stunned her with the flippant reply. 

   “Got your birthday present.”

   Evie came to a halt at the corner. Spinning to see him. Billy batted his lashes again, smirking.

   “What? It is the 27th, right? Wednesday?” He winced like perhaps he’d been wrong.

   “How and where did you get that info? And you remembered it?”

   “I have my ways, Evie.” He bit his lip. Scanned her. “Surprised I got you something?”

   A blush damned her to hell.

   “No, I just… A little.” Evie looked away at the trophy case. Saw them reflected and straightened up. Shuffling back. One hand rubbed at her collar. Illusions faded like dying lights. Too easily.

   "Well, believe it, I'm full of surprises."

   “My mom is doing something small at the salon that she thinks I don’t know about and then I’m going to Heather's. Party on a school night. Her parents are out this week so free reign in the mansion.”

   “I might have heard something about that.” Billy shrugged, peering away so she could take him in.

   Freckles stunning and sparkling crystals for eyes. Endless ocean waves under a balmy sun. Evie wondered for a moment if perhaps he was oblivious to how candidly beautiful he was some days. 

   She inched toward him. Forgot their reflection. Forgot the students with eyes that burned. Saw Billy glanced back and froze. Caught. 

   “You ever think…?” Billy gave this squint to study her there. Thought he saw flecks of gold within her eyes. Sparking at him. Drawing a charge. New stars giving birth he might be able to count if he looked deeper.

   “Yes...?” Evie hushed, just barely edged up on her toes. Billy never finished it. "I do."

   "Do? Do what?" He flushed there. Sounding vaguely drunk. Inch back toward her.

   Two magnets pining from a distance. Drawing ever nearer.

   "Think. Long and hard." It came out a saccharine whisper. “I think too much in fact.”

   He gave this dumb, little chuckle. Unable to grasp his thoughts. Unable to share them.

   “I think about things I can’t control and I get so mad.” Evie scoffed. Thought her eyes watered due to the intensity. “I can’t stop even though there’s very little I can control. It's like time and space. I can't... But, I know that, Billy, and I can't seem to stop.”

   Abrupt, she pushed up to her toes. Captured his lips. Just hard enough to make her point explicit. Hard enough to send him all aflutter. Bursting to pieces from every vein. A might wave crashed into them both. Swept them away. She stayed close enough to finish the thought. Made him drink it down.

   "And I think you're made of that same stardust." Evie swooped around him. Left Billy dizzy as the bell rang. She didn’t look back at him. Only smiled to herself and let curls bounce as she slipped off.

   Billy spun on his heel to see her. Left drunk in a billow of honey amber. A smile overtaking his expression. A warm tint in his freckles.

   He could have blamed her eyes with their hold. Could have blamed her hair and the way the light illuminated it just so. Hell, he could have blamed that damn perfume. The concoction of oils and lotions you'd find listed in an old witch's spell. Although, she was from New Orleans, so perhaps voodoo. He tried to rationalize it. Make it purely sexual. Make it rough and tumble.

   Either way, too much became clear. Evangeline Fenny was beautiful and she was going to ruin him. And Billy was going to let her do it. Any number of heartbeats it would take, he was going to succumb. This sin he'd be begging for again and again. This lovely sin that filled his soul until it burst.

   A red hot ribbon would noose his heart and twist out to Evie's own. They could sink and float and be just fine. The thought of being tethered to something tangible didn't have to feel like a cage and muzzle. It could be freeing too. Sprinkled in their signature stardust that gave it an ethereal filter. An iridescent shimmer.

   Even if it terrified him to the core.

** ** **

   Evie didn’t need to prep Steve and Heather for Carol and Tommy’s impending infiltration of their lunch table. More news in the animal kingdom.

   Princess Heather and Duchess Carol caught whispering at Heather’s locker between second and third.

   Truly fascinating. Pan in close for a better look.

   Evie passed them and could only blink. Almost running into Robin on her way to Yearbook.

   Heather and Carol standing close to each other as if they hadn’t been in a nasty fight the week before. Giggling and hushing tones. Carol traded a bobby pin from her hair for an elastic Heather had tucked into a coin purse shaped like a pair of cherries.

   That was a serious transaction in girl world.

   Carol tugged playfully at Heather's tee, hand poised to her lips to whisper before the other girl was nodding. Evie had a thousand questions but decided not to bother. Red hair swept to flick as Carol turned to go. Following Evie because they were in Yearbook together with Nancy and Jonathan. 

   Usually, they sat across the room in opposite corners. Today, they shared a table.

   “Heard the bio classes moved the dissections this year up to March.” Carol made a face and sorted through science club photos. Seated across from Evie to work on some new pages. 

   “I always skip school those days and do some make-up work later. I’ll take the grade hit.” Evie grimaced.

   “I just partner with Tommy, make him do it, and he’ll get us a solid C plus.” A shrug. Their teacher flicked on some hippy music they liked to pass the time. Lazy class. “Do a bunch of shots after.”

   “Yeah, I can’t even handle being in the room.” Evie stacked some finished sections aside. “How are things between you and Tommy?” 

   Carol peered up briefly between making little notes. Blew a pink bubble and popped it.

   “He’s still my number one slice. I don’t know, I thought he’d get weird about the whole thing. Kinda shocked me.” She mused, shifting pictures about. “I did say he’s gonna marry me one day. Pretty sure. I mean we’re plenty stupid and we fight. But, we’re allowed.”

   “Good, that’s...good.” Evie felt eyes blaring holes. Stared at the page she was reworking.

   “Feels like you got another question in there, Fen.”

   “I don’t know.” Shoulders hitched higher. Evie tucked some curls back and smacked her mauve lips.

   They sat in silence under dim fluorescent lights for a few minutes. Carol paused to apply a fresh layer of gloss in her tiny compact. Flashed the mirror at Evie’s eyes to bug her.

   “Hey.” One hand swatted aimlessly when she was blinded. Carol snickered, slapping the mirror shut.

   “You’re really into him aren’t you?” A head tilt. “Billy.”

   “Things...shifted after the dance. He asked me out. Then, I asked him out. We sorta went out together. Nothing official. I don't know what's a date and what isn't with him. I don’t. As I said, I don’t think he does girlfriends. I don’t think I'd make a very good girlfriend either.”

   “Not with that attitude." A scoff. "Have you asked?”

   “...No.”

   “You’re overcomplicating it because you have major, major trust issues, Evie.” Carol deduced easily. Too easily. Evie sat back. Opened her mouth to protest and shut it. “Billy might have issues too. But, if a guy screws up and spends two months following you around trying to make it right. Not really sleeping around. Obviously it’s crossed his mind. Just quit dragging and ask him. You might like the answer.”

   “I don’t know, sometimes I think it’s supposed to be like a fairy tale. Without all the...ugh.” Evie cringed at herself. Nails tapping the rhythm of a new song she was working on at home.

   “Make the fairy tale happen. Be like Cinder-fucking-ella. Cinder-Evie.” Carol leaned in to roll her eyes. “Evie Fenny wants romance in Hawkins. Some of us can’t even get cable, you know.”

   Evie snorted. Peered up so both of them laughed. Tension fluttered.

   “Just slam him into a wall and ask. Billy will respond to that." A wink before she got sultry. "Lick his balls or something. He’ll probably get the hint. Boys aren't complicated.”

   “Oh, god.” Evie was still giggling silently. Tried to keep it down under the music playing as students went to go develop some photos. Nancy and Jonathan saw the two and couldn’t help whispering. Odd sight. “I kinda have already.”

   “No, shit?” Carol bit her lip. "Evangeline, you absolute harlot."

   “I mean,” Evie blushed, “we’ve done stuff. Just not gone all the way.”

   “Look at you. Ugh, I know he’s good in the sack. I just do. Tommy and I even talked about it cause we’re like that. We hinted inviting him in once at a party and he was too busy mooning over you at that time.” Carol fiddled with a purple gel pen. Played coy. Tongue in cheek. “Tommy’s not bad, we get a lot of practice in though.”

   “Billy...he puts cologne or something...down there. Makes the taste weird.”

   “Uh.” Carol groaned. “You know, I bet Tommy picked up that trick from him cause he started doing it after Billy rolled in. I fucking knew that Cali boy would be a bad influence.” A sly look followed. “Evie Fenny is getting it. And she could be actually getting it if she weren’t a damn coward.”

   "I am." Evie covered her face.

   "Just..." Carol shrugged and tugged one of Evie's hands down by the wrist. Voice low. "Just think about how good it'll be when he's undressing you. Kissing your neck. And those hands. The thing he might whisper in your ear... Look at you blush."

   She released Evie with a light laugh, continuing.

   "Don't make it rocket science. Ask him. Get the orgasm you deserve, Evie. That's my motto."

   “Not terrible... We get heated and during times I’m actually about to tear his clothes off, we keep getting interrupted. It’s like some evil force is against us. I don't know, I still get weird when he touches my body and I'm trying to stop.”   

   Carol only flashed her teeth.

   “Maybe your luck will improve. Burn some more incense.” 

   Evie only hummed in response. They mulled over pages again. Traded images to find the perfect shots.

   “Gonna ask you something, you don’t have to answer because it’s stupid.” Carol’s voice dimmed. Eyes unable to raise for the first time as she tapped her nail. “Do you, like, miss him at all? You know who.”

   Evie blinked at her.

   “That’s not stupid... Ah, sometimes. I don’t think it’s exactly him I miss. Maybe just the good times we did have. Talking. Feeling important and indispensable to someone. The times he held me or gave me things or included me in his life as if I could actually fit. Maybe it was wrong and fake, but he saw something in me and he wanted that to love him back. I’ll bet it did if anything.”

   “Oh.” Was all Carol said, nodding. “Did he put those bruises on you last week? Tommy saw you.”

   “Yeah,” Evie cleared her throat, “and Billy found out. He’d picked up some stuff beforehand. I tried to end it and Fredrick didn’t want to and then he got scared. Tried to scare me which got violent. But, Billy, ah...beat the shit out of him.”

   “I think Tommy would have done the same...if he had a chance. He talked about it. Jumped right into macho man talk when I...when I told him. Looked like he might cry when I told him how long it really went on. He believed me and my own mother didn't.” Carol exhaled a sharper breath.

   "She didn't want to hold the blame," Evie piped up. As if she knew the horrible truth of motherhood and life and what colors should never go together. How some women weren't meant to be mothers and some women weren't meant to be daughters either. "Some mothers...they can't handle the fact that maybe they brought the monsters home. They were blind. Not all of them manifest under our beds, they get put there by people we trust."

   "Miss Mona have bad boy luck?"

   Evie peered aside.

   "You could say that." She paused and had this brief moment of repetition and ferocity. Repeat something. Believe it. Harder each time. "My father though, he loves me. More than anything. He'd be here right now if he could. He would. I made him so happy." This almost manic smile tugged her lips desperately. Carol saw a flash that resonated, but Evie snuffed it. "I bet Tommy is doing what he can to support you, even if he's a little lost about it."

   “These boys. Acting like they can chase all our demons away or something. Scared when we try to do the same for them.”

   “Right. Our demons aren’t remotely tackled, they’re mildly concussed.” Evie agreed. Softer eyes lifting again to meet Carol’s across the way. “I guess trying is what matters most though.”

   They both seemed to accept that gentle sentiment.

** ** ** 

   Mona Fenny was terrible with surprises. Always giddy and singing along to music to drown that out. Bopping against the wheel as she drove Evie into the salon. Parked around back, smiling bright.

   “You go on first, baby. I gotta get some bags out of the truck.”

   “Oh, boy.” Evie pushed out. Mona plucked her from school early that Wednesday. Made her gussy up a little extra. Red sweater dress with a black belt. Gold glitter over her smoked eyes. Red lip to match. Pretty patterned lace tights and boots. Green bomber pulled close, she trudged inside. Through the backroom and out into darkness. 

   Lights flicked to blind her. Spots dancing.

   “Surprise!” A chorus of sing songs. Music picked up. Dolly Parton of course.

   Evie plastered a smile and gawked as if she hadn’t expected it. All the salon ladies. Heather. Susan and Max. Claudia offering a cake decorated with pink and periwinkle buttercream flowers. Candles dancing.

   Evie closed her eyes and made a wish she held close to her heart before blowing them all out in one go. This one would come true.

   “Thank you, ladies.” Evie peered around at the salon decorated in gold streamers.

   “Lets get some cake passed around now. I’m sure these girls have some excitement planned.” Mona clapped her hands and ladies dispersed. “We’ll do gifts and our dinner this weekend. You’re eighteen and you don’t want to spend the night at your mother’s salon.”

   She kissed Evie’s cheek and licked her thumb to wipe the pink print aside.

   “Thank you, mom,” Evie felt something heavy in her gut, “I love you.” Mona was trying so hard to make this nice for her. One day. Then she'd disappear back into her slinky dresses. Into her work. Into those adult parties. Into another man's arms. Away from Evie and whatever glimmer in her daughter's soul was so frightening.

   “I love you. Go sit. We’ll bring the cake over.”

   Evie crossed to Heather.

   “You pack a bag? We’ll take you to school tomorrow.” She bounced in a seat when Evie nodded. “Sure you don’t want to do anything else tonight? We could see a movie.”

   “Nah, a bonfire. Roasting marshmallows. Chinese take out and wine. I just wanna hang out with my friends. Plus, it’s a school night.”

   “Ah, let loose a little. For your birthday.” Heather shrugged as slices of cake were sorted around. Max sat alone in the corner, picking at her piece when Susan left to go to Mona and chat.

   "One sec, Heath," Evie went to Max and sat down. Slow as if she'd scare the younger girl off. “Hey.”

   “Hi. Uh, thanks for having us. My mom keeps telling Mona you guys have made us feel welcome here and all.” She pulled the sleeves of her grey hoodie lower. “She gave Mona some gifts for you to unwrap later. I hope you like them.”

   “Yeah? I'm sure I will. We like you. Can’t wait to open those also.” Evie scanned her. “I had fun, you know, at the sleepover. We should have more.”

   “You don’t think I’m a dumb little girl?” Max peered up. Finally took a bite. Odd to see a growing teenage girl so disinterested in a heavily frosted cake.

   “No, you’re smarter than most of the kids at school.” Evie wondered briefly who could have put that thought in her head and made it stick. Didn’t take long to figure out who. Mad Max was being slowly worn down.

   And she was so small here. So fragile and thin. Evie couldn't help picturing a shadow looming over Max's red hair. The tiny amount of force it'd take to knock her off her feet. Neil in a drunken stupor gunning slowly for the other fresh target in his house.

   “You can come over any time. I have a lot of movies and Blue likes the attention. She's a needy little thing.”

   Max pressed her lips. Gave this small half-smile.

   “Thank you. I'd like to hang out more. I'm only friends with one girl around here and she's being homeschooled until next year."

   “Can I hug you, just as a thank you for being one of the coolest girls I know?”

   Surprise etched.

   “Okay.” Max practically threw herself into Evie’s arms the moment they set the cake aside. Thin fingers bunched up the fabric of Evie’s dress so she cupped the back of Max’s head and held her.

   “It’d be cool to have you as a sister. We could team up on Billy. My skateboard and your roller skates. I saw a pair hung up in your room.”

   “I mean, we could still do that now.” Evie laughed. Tipped Max’s chin up. “You’re gonna be okay.”

   It seemed to resonate. Heather joined them as they ate their fill of cake. Evie unwrapped a couple small gifts. Jewelry and craft supplies. Fabrics she’d wanted and makeup. 

   Heather whisked her away to Loch Nora after some farewells. They practically bounced into the big house. Ordered a ton of food before they got the fancy fire pit out back started so it’d be ready later.

   The doorbell rang.

   “Steve!” Evie perked after answering. Let him squeeze her in a hug. Practically plucked her from the floor which earned a surprised giggle.

   “Got you something, it’s small.” He smiled sheepishly and offered a little box. “You’re a tough girl to buy jewelry for even if you wear a bunch. You know that, Eves?”

   “No, I’ll wear just about anything.” Playing coy, Evie gave an endearing sway.

   “You hardly take the music note necklace off and I’ll never find earrings better than the ones you make.” He swept a hand through gorgeously styled locks. Cracked a pleased grin. "I notice things."

   “Ah. Fair.” Evie poked his chest. Heather waved when she came in from the back. “My dad got me this necklace from one of his trips. Sometimes, I’ll change it or wear something with it.” She touched the gold chain.

   “I found this at a fancy vintage joint,” Steve explained as she opened it. An ornate brooch. Stunning sun and moon. Soft expressions attached with two looping chains. Decorated in shimmering opals.

   Evie stared at it. Had this panicked thought about the one Fredrick gave her. The glittering ladybug.

   The one she swallowed that had not come out yet.

   “Do you like it?” Steve broke into her thoughts. Evie blinked and shook her head to smile.

   “It’s beautiful, thank you. I’ll pin it on my coat now.” Evie kissed his cheek and bounded off. Left Steve there to blush a sweet, dewy pink.

   More doorbells. Clicking incessantly until Steve groaned and opened it. Billy followed by Tommy and Carol coming up the path from another car.

   “Password?” Steve played his bratty self.

   Billy cocked his head and charged in to put Steve in a headlock. Messed his hair up while he got slapped at as Tommy cackled on the way in.

   “Jesus, Holloway, I forgot about your digs here. Bigger than Harrington's place. No offense.” He waltzed by with Carol on his arm. Left Steve and Billy to wrestle.

   “Hey, boys! Not on her birthday.” Heather got between them. "I agreed to this very strange joining of two groups out of love and friendship. We're all cutting the shit now."

   “He started it.” Steve shoved off and reached to ruffle Billy’s curls. Got a hard swat for it. "We're still burying the hatchet." Beating up creepy teachers brings boys together, he figured.

   Evie liked all of them, that was good enough for Heather.

   "Dick." Billy jabbed back.

   Tommy peered back at Steve. Old times. New surroundings. New mindset. The other boy shrugged at him, lighthearted.

   Evie poked her head around the corner. Blinked in surprise.

   “Hey, all… No wonder Heath ordered the entire menu.”

   “We come in peace, Fen.” Carol removed her coat and Tommy presented a couple of bags.

   “Also, we brought the wine and weed. As promised at that first lunch.”

   “I just said to get wine...but, I won’t complain. We can only smoke it outside. The smell will linger and my dad won’t like it.” Heather winked, coming to take the items. “Thank you, guys. We have food coming. Movies. S’mores for the fire pit.”

   “Look who's trying to behave on her eighteenth.” Carol winked. She shared this look with Heather that Evie didn’t notice. Billy stared at her. Watched nervous hands smooth out her dress. “Hargrove, didn’t you bring the lucky lady a gift? Be a gentleman and present it.”

   “Left it in the car.” He cocked his head, signaling for Evie to fall in stride next to him. Without her coat, she clasped her hands behind her back and followed him back outside. Down the stone steps.

   "Still weird?" Tommy came to Steve, hands in his back pockets.

   "Honestly, yeah." He nodded as Carol went after Heather out back. Both of them plotting.

   "Does suck about the princess. We know you liked her and all."

   "Ah, she's happier with Byers. Things happen. Guess it's part of growing up."

   "How about we drink a bunch tonight and start some shit over?" Tommy clapped Steve's arm, earning a cracked smile.

   "I'd like that."

   Outside, Billy and Evie crossed to his Camaro.

   “Glad you guys came. Might be boring, I said nothing too exciting.” She puffed cold air. Billy opened his trunk and fished for something wrapped in newspaper.

   “We...didn’t have fancy wrap so I used the Sunday cartoons. Only part of the paper I can get my dad to let go.” He winced, handing it to her.

   “No, I love the funnies.” Teeth etched at her lip. Evie met his eyes to open it.

   “It’s a little fragile.” He warned. Evie peeled the paper away and blinked a couple times.

   A thin shadow box with a tarnished black frame. Inside pinned was a luna moth. Dainty specimen all glowy in moonlight.

   “Whoa. How-?”

   “I found it in this old antique shop up in the city. Hidden way in the back. They had a bunch of them, different bugs. I don’t know, it made me think of you.” He explained. Too delicate like he might shatter. Evie ran her fingers along the frame. An object of wonder and curiosity. “Kinda strange and pretty...and you’re damn strange and pretty.”

   She gave this breathless snort. Snapped out of it. Looked up at Billy’s eyes with this vulnerable sort of expression crossing.

   “I really love it. Thank you.” Evie took his chin and kissed him. Felt that same sensation whirl that made them both dizzy.

   Billy pushed his forehead into hers. Brushed their noses and dropped aside. Let his head rest on her shoulder. She smelt the blond hair and felt it tickle her neck. One breath hitched.

   “Let’s get back. I’ll put this in my bag so I can hang it up at home.” 

   Evie held it close as they walked along. Not looking at each other or touching. They wouldn’t be able to handle it. She figured this gift is what her heart had always looked like. A deep, dark shadow box with a pretty moth fluttering inside behind glass. Waiting to be seen and admired. Waiting to flit out and feel the wind and sun.

   Going inside, she wondered if Billy had known that. If he placed their stars just so because he knew how they fit together.

   Tension sprang through laughter over take-out boxes. Trading and gorging on food while a horror flick played before them. The Funhouse. Seated on the floor around the coffee table against the sofas and chairs. Odd gathering of souls.

   Tommy was a squirmer. Kept hiding in Carol's shoulder. Steve felt himself looking around. He had his friends back and more. This could be nice again. He hadn't been social since everything fell apart with Nancy. Befriending Heather and Evie was a good start.

   Billy’s leg bumped Evie’s and she gave this blush like someone caught them being obscene. Settled into him for the last half of the movie when they were full and the night rose outside. Billy felt a spark as Evie hid in his chest at a jump scare. Chuckled to himself to play it off.

   Evie Fenny watched horror movies for a living, she just needed a reason to play dumb and get close to him. But, she wasn't gonna admit that. Being tucked under his bicep was too good.

   “Psst, hey.” Evie said in his ear. Billy slid his eyes to see the TV light play on her expression.

   On the expensive screen, a rat-like vampire snarled. Mutated and warped with saliva on his fangs.

   “Hm?”

   “That’s you.” She hitched a squeal when he pinched her side. Pulled in closer by his arm.

   Carol and Heather were still shooting each other looks. Mugs of cheap red wine got passed around. Bloomed cherries in everyone’s cheeks and mouths. 

   They gathered around the fire outside. Roasted marshmallows and lit up joints. Heather’s family had a fancy pit built into the ground and a stone seating circling it. With most of the snow gone, they all bundled up. Carol draped into Tommy as they shared a smoke.

   “Steve, eat this one. I made it special.” Evie flashed a crooked, devious smile. "For you."

   “I don’t trust you.” He laughed, opening his mouth before she stuffed it in. Marshmallow fluff covered his lips until they cackled. Steve pushed a fresh one back at her that melted chocolate over her mouth. Evie giggled and caught Billy staring as she licked her lips. Wanting to lap it up himself. 

   "Did I get it all?" Evie faced him, breaking the moment. Billy reached up with his thumb and swept it under her bottom lip. Saw her tongue shift like it might jet out before he pulled away and licked the pad.

   "Now, you did," he winked.

   At that point, Tommy and Steve caught on to Heather and Carol's little knowing looks. Took some eye-fucking to get there but they made it.

   Heather was pleasantly blazed. Leaning back with her feet up on the stone. Sighing. Evie puffed and passed a smoke back to her. Started to blow out before Billy angled her face at him. Inhaled some of the pot to enjoy it.

   "Tommy, who supplies your shit?" He hummed.

   "Hill Valley, they supply all the locals. Stoner who gave it to me swore it made you fucking time travel, I think he was right."

   "Go back in time and stop this asshole from beating my keg record." Steve snatched the joint next, gesturing to Billy. Only got a rough laugh in response.

   “So, we’re all fucked. But, I have rooms. Lots and lots of guest rooms.” Heather mused. “I’m so rich and popular, guys.”

   “We had no idea.” Carol faked a gasp. “Prissy drunk.”

   “This is so weird.” Evie rubbed her cheek, lulled into Steve so he put the smoke between her lips with two fingers. Let her inhale it before she puffed out. “All of us, I mean. It’s weird. Life sucks and we’re just like...friends now.”

   “It’s like we wasted all that time on stupid shit when we could have been doing this.” Carol decided with red eyes. Everyone nodded in response.

   Evie fell the other way and put her head on Billy’s shoulder. Slowing, they stared at the flickering fire. Smoke rising to purge whatever was here before.

   "We still gonna share a lunch table after this? Acknowledge each other?" It was Steve who spoke up.

   "Nowhere else to go." Billy reached out to take the joint from him and finish it. That was agreed upon too. Wasn't the worst sentiment at this hour.

   They came down from the wine and pot. Simmered. Put the fire out and trailed back into the house. Watched half of another movie before they started to split off.

   Steve passed out on the biggest couch so Evie covered him in a blanket. Stopped Billy and Tommy from drawing on his poor, sweet face. Gave him a kiss on the temple for good measure.

   “Think it’s time. Midnight. Happy Birthday, Evie.” Heather mashed her into a tight hug. They all left Steve to snore and wandered upstairs. Changed and washed up.

   Billy disappeared down the hall to one of the bathrooms. Evie emerged a bit later from Heather's room rubbing her nose.

   “Tommy and Carol can use this room." Heather was in the hallway gesturing. "Steve’s on the couch. Hey, Eve, you want to use the third floor? Sheets are fresh. The birthday girl should get the best and biggest guest room. Right, Carol?”

   "I couldn't agree more, Heather. We left you something special on the bed. It was too big to wrap."

   Snickering followed.

   “Sure...sure…” Evie ruffled her hair out, not listening. "Night."

   “Enjoy your present,” Carol gave this little sing-song. Arms crossing as she watched Evie climb the steps. Waited until she was gone to plant a slick high-five on Heather. “Idiots.”

   “Totally.” Heather went off to bed.

   Evie pushed the door open and jumped a mile at the same time Billy spun, dropping his shirt.

   “Oh, sorry, they said…” It dawned that Evie had just been tricked. “They told you to sleep here?”

   “Yeah, Heather said...oh.” He clicked his tongue and smiled, head shaking because he had to look away. It was all too good.

   Evie pressed the door shut and planted herself against it. Locked it idly. The snap sparked Billy to attention.

   “I’ll be having a little chat with them about this. It's...um...” She scanned him in his jeans. Saw muscles twitching under flesh. Wet her lips.

   “Yeah, I’ll be getting down on my knees to fucking thank her.” He marched over. Kissed Evie hard against the doorway then brought her flush into his frame. Hands trailing down the curve of her back.

   She hitched a gasp and got one arm around his neck. Felt about to turn the lights down. Moonlight spilled in. Full and bright. 

   Billy’s hands were under her shirt. Bunching it up. Palming her bottom. Tracing the lace edge of her underwear to playfully snap it. They stumbled around toward the bed. Evie on her toes pulled him down for more kisses. Felt like no amount would be enough.

   “Not a motel, but I think we can make this work.” Billy got pushed into the plush covers. Sat up to let Evie climb into his lap. They looked at each other. Stilling.

   "Is this okay?" She mumbled and he only nodded.

   Breathing deep until hearts pounded in perfect sync. Evie cupped his face. Opened her lips against his until Billy gave this visceral moan.

   Fingers slipped under the tee again. Squeezed her breasts. Hurried the fabric up so he could taste her skin. Evie shuddered and tipped her head back. Grinding into him. Pulling his hair because he was ruining her already.

   Because Billy Hargrove was about to be her beginning and end.

   Because she was fine with that.

   “Evie...” Billy groaned. Fingers pushing into her flesh. He sucked little flower petals into her chest. Tongued her nipples to hard, rosy buds. Evie felt one hand wander down into her panties. Cried out at the two digits that slipped against her experimentally. "Yeah?"

   “Y-Yes. Like that. You feel so good, Billy.” She attacked his neck. Kissing and nipping until his legs shook. She would ruin him just as well and he'd already tried to make peace with it.

   Billy brought his fingers up to suckle them. Shifted to wet her nipple and lick the arousal off. Two strong hands, turned them to throw her into the mattress. God, his muscles. Evie felt him crawl up her body. Hovering to just look at her with spun gold spilling around his neck and crown. 

   Felt more intimate than anything they’d done. Just looking. Taking a body and soul in.

   Billy started pulling her shirt off. Going for her panties to toss the flimsy fabric aside. No resistance followed. She wanted him to look. Wanted to be seen. Maybe it shouldn't have felt so incredible.

   Eyes watched her surrender there bathed in the moon. Evie rubbed her thighs together. Covered her breasts with her arms. Billy’s chest heaved. Mouth sweeping down to kiss her until the resolve melted. He pinned her wrists playfully and kissed down her neck, stopping to inhale that perfume.

   "You're pretty." Lips nudged her insecurities up and away. "So pretty."

   Billy brushed dark curls from her shoulders and cheeks. Began to peck soft kisses everywhere he could. Mapping her face out. Every so often she found his lips to steal one back. A soft breath grazed her ear.

   “Lemme see you, too.” Evie got a hand free and cupped him boldly. Billy jolted into her palm. Moaned. Beautiful beyond words. He let her push his pants down and stroke him. Gazes melted together and he stopped her only to toss his jeans aside, up on his knees to breathe even.

   Evie pushed up only to marvel at him. Reluctant hands lifted. Smoothing down the hard contour of his chest. The line of those hips. She wanted to map him out as well.

   "You're beautiful." She brushed her mouth against his hip. A true Eros.

   Billy combed his fingers into Evie's hair, tilting her face up so he could curve over for a lengthy kiss. Moaning when she praised him. Wordless with her simple touch. Explored all the exposed honey skin. Counting little freckles. Billy nuzzled his nose into Evie’s, pressed their heads together, and breathed her in. All of her. 

   “Gonna eat you out.” He nipped down her chest, pushing her back into the bed. Evie tensed on instinct but nodded. Wanting it. Saw those lashes flutter before he buried his mouth into her mound. 

   She cried out into her palm. Spine arching so his taut arms wound under soft thighs. Held her hips to adjust. Spread her open for his tongue. Devoured her shamelessly. Pornographically.

   Billy liked to make noise. Like to force it out of her too. He flicked his tongue inside. Lapped up toward her bundle to tease and cradle it. Slight stubble made red swatches on her tender skin.

   What did she like? What made her pray for mercy?

   It left Evie to twist around. Hands grasped for the sheets. She gave him her voice willingly. Gave him every beat and sigh and pulse. Billy made this obscene suckle against her. Crawled up with slick lips so Evie pulled him into her frame. Kissed those pink lips. Licked into his mouth. Tugged at gold locks and ran her hands along his back.

   Billy was nudging between her legs before Evie shifted so they were on their sides. Shocked him with a murmur.

   “I want to be on top first.”

   “What?” He actually laughed lightly. Pecked her mouth. “No, no, sweetheart. I’m on top.”

   “I called it first and I'm the birthday girl.” Evie pouted. Pushing him on his back playfully. Billy came up on his elbows. Brow furrowed.

   “You’re serious. But…” He sounded breathless when her hand smoothed down to stroke him. Persuading. “But, I’m the man. It’s our first time. The man’s supposed to be on top the first time.”

   “Says who? You’re so cute when you say dumb things, Billy.” Evie taunted, kissing his cheek. “There’s no rule. Maybe I wanna be the man...if you really wanna put it that way. You’ll get a turn. Maybe. You might convince me.”

   He smiled when she winked at him. Evie kept up her persuasion. Swung her leg over his hips. Kissed up his neck because she knew it would make him into putty. Billy could only shudder.

   Evie let her weight rest against his frame. Snuffed out every voice that told her she couldn't be desired and sexy. Billy moaned at the feel of her too. All of her. Grasped fleshy hips and ran his hands up sloping curves. Evie pressed into his chest, curls spilled over her shoulders.

   “I might really die if I don't feel you soon.” Billy just marveled up at her. Cupped her breasts until Evie sighed into his touch. A blush spread over her cheeks. She captured his mouth in response.

   Eyes met and she gave this little nod so he followed it. Muscles tensing. 

   “I want to feel you, too.” Evie licked her lips so they adjusted a bit together. She came up and gave him a few slow pumps. "Do you really wanna feel me, Billy?" His shaft pressed flush into her folds. Hips rocked slow. Torturing.

   Looking clouded, he nodded and tried to find some words.

   "Fucking, please. Evie." He tilted his head back. Chest heaving. “You, uh, took your pill?”

   “Like clockwork.” Evie shuddered. "I want this. You."

   Billy looked down and gave her thigh an encouraging squeeze, biting his lip as she positioned him. Starting to sink down. They both cursed aloud. Went tight after a shared quake. Evie mounted him. Let him fill her all the way up with her hands flat against his chest. 

   “That’s it. Fucking perfect.” He was muttering while she whimpered quietly. Massaging her hips so she’d relax. “You don’t have to move yet. Feel so fucking good. Look at me, Evie.” 

   She did. Darkening eyes peeking through a curtain of curls he moved aside.

   “I got you, Angel. I got you.” Billy lifted for a kiss. Bucked slightly inside her so she gave this experimental rock into him. Mouths brushed together and he whispered. “Fuck me.” 

   He begged that. Begged for her. Only her. Evie pressed him back down. Tilted her head aside at the feel of him pulsing. Started to move with some fervor. 

   Fingers squeezed her hips. Left marks guiding her into his thrusts. Both of them sinking fast. 

   “Mm, Billy.” Evie arched there against the moon and stars. Let them fill the room with her voice. She hitched a cry when he gave her ass a playful swat. Urged her to go faster. Billy wiggled and came up a bit. Pulled Evie all the way down and drank her moan into his lips.

   He held her there, biceps flexing when his hands went around her back so he sat up fully. Teeth nipped at her chest and he undulated up inside her. Took some control back.

   "H-Hey..." Evie was slipping fast. Mouth parting while she clung to his shoulders. "I'm the man."

   "It's your birthday," Billy mumbled into her throat. "Little worship is what a pretty girl deserves on her birthday. Don't you think so?"

   Fingers pushed between her spread legs. Worked her until a cry muffled into the crook of his neck. Evie curved into him. Clung. Rode him harder.

   “So good.” Billy managed again. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.” He pulled her hair. Exposed that creamy throat to his mouth once more. Tormented her until Evie’s resolve melted so he could flip them over. Another cry echoed. Hips pushing with force deep into her. She gripped his shoulders, legs curling around his hips. 

   “Billy, please…” Evie mewled under him. “More.” She tucked some blond hair aside sweetly. Both of them slicked and wanting. Connected utterly. 

   Billy was so ample with her body, chasing her fears away with his hot touch and lovely kisses. He hovered over Evie. Pulled out and looked down to where their bodies met. Loved the sight of himself disappearing inside. One hand brought her thigh higher for a better look.

   "Flexible girl. I'll keep that in mind."

   Evie fluttered around him. Reached down and touched their mixed arousal. Played with herself while he watched and started to find his pace. She licked her digits of their slick. Let him have a taste after. Billy laced their fingers and came down to watch her eyes.

   Panting. He really began to pound into her until the bed was rocking with them. A filthy sound of skin slapping together with each thrust joined their gasps. He didn't care if this whole damn neighborhood could hear them.

   “Love the way you squeeze me.” Billy’s thumb was back against her. Tormenting perfect little circles that had her whining. Evie had this out of body moment like she was watching herself writhe on the bed. Billy Hargrove fucking her stupid. Praising her. Touching her. Uttering nasty things about how she was all his now and he could spend forever making her feel so good. “Gonna come inside this sweet, little pussy after I make you quake. You wanna come for me, Evie? That’s my fucking girl.” 

   “Oh, fuck...fuck, I can’t stand you.” She tightened around him. Eyes rolling back. Relishing his touch so he sped up. “I’m right fucking there, Billy, don’t stop. Stay with me. Stay…” She cupped his face. Found those drunken lips.

   “Don’t have to stand, I,” he shuddered, “I got a perfectly good face you’ll be sitting on later.”

   Cheeky little shit.

   Evie actually laughed. Thrilled. Pulled him all the way against her body, arms under his and around his taut back. Billy stopped all the dirty talk to whimper.

   She felt so good. He didn't know it could feel this good.

   “I’m yours, Billy,” Evie decided at last with a flutter of glowing moths escaping the heart-shaped shadow box carved into her chest. Happy. She so wanted to be his. Mouth against the shell of his ear. “All yours.” Her thighs shuddered and he felt her entire body lock. A graceful arch went through it. “I’m c-coming.” Evie managed so he stroked harder. Made her gush around his cock with the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Kept thrusting to draw it out as she squeezed him too tight. Chanting cries of curses mingling with his name. All sin.

   All his.

   Billy couldn’t even warn her. He held out as long as he could and began to fuck release inside her. Both of them wrapping tighter around each other. Still trying to rock through it like they were lying on a warm beach being caressed by sweet ocean waves. Evie sagged, out of breath as he collapsed against her body. Still rutting like an animal to finish himself. 

   Gasping, Billy came up to pull out. Watched his own release sink out of her. So fucking hot, he couldn't help pushing it back in. Evie tensed. Overstimulated when he pressed dainty kisses to her tummy and chest. 

   Blue eyes came up to meet her brown ones and something broke. Shattered. Flooded out. They both locked in to feel it. Billy looked at her and the sensation consumed him utterly. Betrayed him. He stared and couldn’t look away. Frozen. Ruined. Evie blinked up at him. Spread open and hair splayed. Reached up to caress his jaw with her brow furrowing.

   “Billy, you’re shaking.” She swallowed to catch her breath. Eyes searching him. She tipped his head forward to kiss his warm temple. Lingered with sweet promises. Both of them on fire and slicked in glowy dew. “I got you.”

   He still trembled so hard. Unable to stop. Let Evie bring his head to her collar so she could pepper more kisses into his hair and comfort him. 

   Billy stared out at nothing. Floated in this sort of subspace while Evie brought him back down to touch the Earth. Gentle as she could. They held each other there. Evie still kissing him. Petting him delicately and humming in his ear. Idly, he let his fingers whirl into her curls.

   “Are you alright? Billy?” She tried again. Massaging his shoulders while he listened to her beating heart. Something wet splashed against her neck as he shuddered. Sniffling once.

   “I just…” He came up. Let awareness flit back. Got near silent. I think I’m happy. "I'm fine." The feeling spread a cold under his bones. "You?"

   Billy cupped her head for a lazy kiss. She smiled up at him.

   “I'm okay. Better than okay.” She soothed again. “I got you.” Naked, they wound around each other. Got under the covers and laid twisted together.

   “Evie.” Billy choked on air. Chest sinking. He had to let one truth out. Just one, he owed her that much. And it ached. “Gotta tell you something.”

   “Yeah?” She sunk into his chest. Held. Evie braced like it might hurt her too.

   “You know you're... You're the best thing about this place.” Billy squeezed his eyes shut. Let her hold him tighter in response. Let Evie give up some of her warmth to him because he needed it and she just liked to see him happy and safe.

   “I didn’t know it could feel like that.” She began, fingers making shapes into his chest. Evie opened her heart. Let him admire it. "Billy, I want to be more with you. Like...Like a girlfriend. This sounds silly. You don't have to say anything. I just...I don't want to run from you because you make me happy. I think I might make you happy too. We're... You were right about a lot. The stars and all. Despite everything, I think we were supposed to find each other and it feels good. I want to be yours-"

   Billy tilted Evie's chin up. Hushed the truths with his lips. Nuzzled her so she'd relax back into him. He couldn't reply. The syllables wrapped around his throat and choked him. And Evie trusted him. So, she didn't ask for them. That made it ache more.

   Placing her head upon his chest when they shifted again. Billy went very still. Stared at the ceiling and wiped his eyes as she dozed. Fingers combed into her hair to coax her off to an easier slumber.

   Billy just laid there. Felt numb. Felt too much. Couldn’t look down at Evie nestled into his body. 

   He stayed there two hours. So still. So lost. So found. 

   These sensations that tried to drown him. They were creeping like dark gossamer veils over his eyes. Unable to be near Evie, he eased out from under her. Rubbed his eyes. Felt like she seared his skin down to bone and marrow.

   He knew it was wrong. Knew it might hurt her. Would hurt her.

   She let him into her heart and he was running. Eros fleeing Psyche the moment she held that candle to his being and saw him for what he was. One speck of wax dripping hot upon his flesh. Blinded by that light, he probably didn't see her crying there after him. Selfish boy.

   Billy thought he would be sick. Tremored there. He just couldn't stop it. Couldn't explain it either.

   And he just couldn’t be near her anymore. Fuck.

   But, he promised. He promised her. He wanted to keep it and instead scrambled to dress. Empty eyes still staring at nothing. Billy finally peered back. Scanned Evie comfortable on the bed. He could have gotten back in. Woken her and told her that he wanted to be all hers too.

   “I’m sorry.” He whimpered.

   It hurt. It hurt too much. Billy actually had to rub his chest. Tried to numb. Tried. All this time they spent together and now he just couldn’t be near her. She broke him. Billy felt himself climbing too high. Up toward the stars. Falling to pieces.

   Aimless steps brought him outside. Into the freezing cold. Away from Evie’s touch and amber perfume. Away from this girl who gave him exactly what he wanted and it was just too much. He couldn’t hold it. Didn’t want to see it shatter before him.

   So, Billy got into his Camaro and drove off. Far away as he could to the edge of Lover’s Lake. Up a hill so he could see the quiet city before him. Evie would wake up. Feel the change that he promised he wouldn’t give her. 

   Fuck. 

   “Fuck!” Billy crumbled aloud. One fist pushed into his teeth. Quivering until the tears fell hot. Huge and wet down his flushed cheeks. Unable to stop the flow, Billy dropped his head. Began to sob louder than he ever had in his life.

   Because this would break her in turn. Validate everything horrid she thought about Billy Hargrove. Because he should have stayed in that bed mapping more kisses down her spine. Instead, he convinced himself that they weren't made of the same stardust. They couldn't be.

   Evie's heart-shaped shadow box was hung too far from reach amid untold galaxies and when Billy rose to admire it, his wings melted like Icarus before him because that's what he deserved. That was always what he knew he deserved.

   All he could think about was his mother in that tub. Neil's boot squelching his back and the meaty wack of a belt. It wasn't possible for him to be something that could be tangible and loved. Evie had been right. Stars were placed in a certain order and that couldn't change. He'd been stupid. Hopeful.

   He was the coward. This got too real and he couldn't just let himself have it.

   And what made it heavier was the pure thought of Evie waking alone to confirm her biggest fear.

   "I'm sorry." Billy kept chanting these words that were so often too difficult for him. They wouldn't stop this time. "I'm sorry..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Local boy crushed under the weight of his own emotions. Eeeep, I finally let them do the deed. Someone make them a 'congrats on your sex' cake. Please if you enjoyed leave words below or chat with me in my ask!! Thank you all so much!!

TAGGED:: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana   @alagalaska​ @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson

[randomoranges]

months ago i had a convo with a friend and she said something about ed doing such a thing. the idea’s been in my head for literal months. apparently i had enough juice today to start this at work lamao

also sometimes despite your best intentions and doing what youre meant to do, your own mental health takes a turn for the dumpters and you lash out at those you care about [re the argument fight ill prolly never write maybe who knows but that clearly happened.] [one day i may stop being vague about So Many Things]

Positive Affirmations

November 2020

“Good morning, Sweetheart,”

Those are the words he wakes up to, on most days now. They’re good words to wake up to, Étienne tells himself, and they help settle something deep and old and ugly within him. He feels the bed dip as Edward crawls closer to him and he furrows his face instinctively into the warmth of his boyfriend’s chest.

This has been going on for a few weeks now and honestly, he could get used to it – has been getting used to it.

Edward runs a hand over his shoulder and Étienne let’s himself be lulled by the comfort it provides him. This started accidentally, really, but it has quickly become something he looks forward to each and every morning.

His return to Edmonton hadn’t been exactly – stellar and it had come with a most severe of shifts in his mood. He hadn’t felt this bad – this lethargic and then that angry – in far too long and he’d been set on his usual self-destructive path without wanting to, but without having much control over these things. It was why he’d exiled himself in Edmonton again. He knew he couldn’t be left alone with himself with no positive outlet. Therefore, he’d returned to Edmonton and had hoped that the storm would pass.

The storm had lingered. Had grown and gotten more powerful. Had taken over and had wrecked havoc throughout. It hadn’t been pretty. For a while, Étienne had thought for sure that this one would last even longer. That he’d end up losing everything. Despite the help he had. Despite the progress he’d made. Despite everything, really. That it would linger and fester. Would grow and rot everything to its very core, with no chance of recovery.

But, for some strange reason, Edward hadn’t left him for dead – hadn’t broken everything off despite the words they’d exchanged and the damage Étienne had done. To himself. To Edward. To their relationship. Instead, Edward had given him space to get his head sorted, had let the dust settle and had offered him his support. Unconditional and unwavering. Hadn’t given up on him even when Étienne had very much wanted to give up on himself.

Étienne knew he was a lucky bastard.

It had been after that that Edward had taken to sitting with him – cuddling really – every morning, for a handful of minutes, before Étienne started his day.

Even if Étienne woke up later than he did, or if he was in the other room, Edward would show up, slide in, and wait for him to come to.

“Sleep well?” His boyfriend asks and Étienne shrugs. It had been an on and off type of night, but not the worst ever. Edward places a soft kiss to his forehead and Étienne makes himself smaller still in Edward’s embrace. They tangle themselves in each other, from legs to arms around torsos and faces that get furrowed in necks, until Étienne is completely at ease. It’s cozy in Edward’s arms – cozy and safe and loving and he feels less wrought out when Edward caresses his back and runs careful fingers through his hair. Feels more human than he has in the past few months and it soothes the gashes of his mind that never seem to properly scab over. Old demons that never seem to be far, ready to assault at any given time, for no particular reason.

Edward spends the first few minutes of every morning whispering gentle sweet nothings to Étienne. For every thought of “not good enough”, “has been”, and “irrelevant” that always seems to resonate at the back of his mind, Edward instead offers a “so kind”, “so good”, and “so important”. He’ll accompany some of the affirmations with a kiss to the top of his head, a warm caress, or sometimes, he’ll simply keep running his hand down Étienne’s back.

Sometimes, Edward will tell him the same things as a previous day, other times, his boyfriend will surprise him with something new, but every time, Étienne feels a warm flutter nestle itself in the depth of his soul, taking root and daring to grow just a little more. Étienne had wondered at first what strange angle Edward had been playing at, but when he’d asked, Edward had figured that maybe, if Étienne heard good things about him long enough, eventually he’d start believing them, for they were true.

He’s still not sure he entirely gets Edward’s strange little game, but he’s stopped questioning it. He likes the sound of Edward’s voice as it washes over him and tucks into the crevices of his body. He’s not sure he fully believes everything his boyfriend tells him. He wants to really, but the negative voice has lived rent free in his head for so long that sometimes, it outweighs all the good he knows is buried there, but he does feel calmer listening to him – feels just a little more grounded and a little less down about everything that keeps him reeling day in and day out. Maybe the positive affirmations do help, in their own way, but if anything, he likes these precious moments when it’s just the two of them, away from whatever chaos will come at them throughout the rest of the day.

“I love you, Teddy,” Edward always ends, minutes and minutes later, and every time – every single time, without fault, even though Étienne knows the words are coming, he stills and trembles, overcome with the affection Edward holds (still holds) for him. It makes the rotten and shriveled place where his heart had once been beat again with found hope and he tries his best to process his emotions as Edward holds him close.

On good days, he’ll return the words to Edward. He’ll say them back and watch as his boyfriend’s face will light up with the prettiest of soft smiles. But on the other days – on those when the storm clouds linger too close to him and the words seem too big and monumental to say, he’ll hold Edward tighter to him and hope that he’ll understand just how important he is to him – how thankful he is for Edward – for his presence in his life. For everything he’s done and keeps on doing.

Luckily, they’re in a better place now. There’s more communication and less second guessing and Étienne no longer needs to worry that Edward will never know how it is he truly feels about him. It’s one less thing that creeps up on him and for that, he’s thankful.

Instead, this morning, he manages to look up to Edward’s face and he takes a moment to appreciate the open expression on his face. Edward’s handsome, he thinks, and not for the first time, as he brings up a hand to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. He feels Edward lean into it for a moment and Étienne smiles softly. He loves him, really, and it’s a strange and wonderful thing to think.

It’s still a shit-show out there and he knows – has resigned himself to admit that they’re far from out of the woodworks, but, again, and not for the last time he’s thankful that he gets to be here despite everything that’s going on out there. He knows he’s part of the lucky ones and he doesn’t take it for granted.

Edward places a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand and Étienne lets out a content sigh. He doesn’t need to get out of bed just yet and Edward knows. They choose to linger in bed a little longer, holding each other close, healing in their own way and as Étienne listens to the rhythmic beating of Edward’s heart, he dares to hope that this – what they have – will never end. Not again.

 FIN

[vs-redemption]

Blinded (Teen!Hawks X Teen!Toya Oneshot)

Summary: Hawks meets Toya Todoroki and has a conversation that forces him to open his eyes to the darker truths about hero society. This is based on the theory that Hawks met Dabi through the Hero Commission before Dabi was a villain. 

Warnings: It’s kind of sad

Being blindfolded used to be a bit frightening, but not anymore. Honestly, now it was just kind of exhilarating because taking away my eyesight made the rest of my senses kick into overdrive. Years of training had made it so that nobody could hide from me, even in complete darkness. Having that kind of power gave me a confidence that I’d been raised to embrace and utilize in every aspect of my daily life. A person who was assured in their own abilities and actions put other people at ease. It made them trust you, and that was important for anyone aspiring to be a hero.

“Are you ready?” the familiar voice of the facility director comes through the speaker on the ceiling directly above my head. It was usually my personal supervisor that ran my routine quirk tests, but it wasn’t unheard of for the higher ups to show up and assess my progress every once in a while. I nod my head, knowing they were watching my every move as I mentally prepare for what I am about to do. There’s a count down.

“3…2…1…Go.”

The wings on my back snap open and a tingling sensation runs through my feathers as they pick up the vibrations of several dozen sensors placed randomly around the room. Learning how to sense and control each of my feathers had been a slow, uphill battle. It had only gotten easier thanks to all the rigorous mental exercises I’d been forced to endure. I still had a long way to go and a lot more to learn before I was ready to be a hero, but for now I took pride in how each feather moved on its own, flying through the room and shutting off each of the sensors with terrifying speed and accuracy. I can’t help but smirk a little, knowing the director was watching. Maybe if I impressed her enough, I’d finally be given permission to leave the facility.

There were only a few more sensors left when all of my focus suddenly zeroed in on the sounds coming from outside the testing room. People had been walking back and forth, chatting to each other, and opening and closing doors the entire time, but there was one particular voice that had always stood out. The fact that he was back after going missing for a few days was a little exciting, and my mind raced with possible reasons for the absence.

“Hawks!”

The director calls my name and I snap to attention. The bright red feathers around the room come flying back to me, filling out my wings as they fold back up against my back. I pull the blindfold off my face and glance up towards where I knew the camera watching my performance was hidden.

“What happened?” The voice was your supervisor now and he didn’t sound pleased. “You slowed down at the end and failed to turn off two of the sensors.”

I hadn’t made a mistake like that in a long time. It was time to put my diplomacy skills to the test. I put on my best smile, the one they’d rewarded me for using to my advantage in the past, and reach up to scratch the back of my head as a false show of submission.

“Sorry about that,” I keep my voice light but apologetic. “I thought I heard someone trip out in the hallway and figured it was worth losing a few points if I could make sure they were all right! That’s what a real hero would do, isn’t it?”

“No.” My supervisor hadn’t been moved at all by the act. I supposed that was to be expected since he was the one who had taught me all the tricks I’d just tried to pull. “You can think of those two missed sensors as two lives you failed to save today.” That was a bit harsh, but I knew better than to say anything about it.

“All right,” I sigh, giving in for real. “Just let me try again. I’ll get them this time.”

“There are no second chances in the real world,” the supervisor lectures. “Only consequences. So for the next two weeks you’ll be required to do an extra hour of training after dinner.” Before I have a chance to reply, I’m dismissed from the test and sent to my next class.

* * *

There were plenty of other students besides me attending the facility owned by the Hero Public Safety Commission. We all attended general studies classes together but did our quirk training separately. I’d been wishing for more time to get to know them for as long as I could remember. Unfortunately though, there was hardly ever time for me to socialize with my peers because they went home to their families in the afternoon while I lived in the building and did extra training in the evenings. It made me sort of an outcast to them, and I envied my classmates who got to leave this place to hang out, talk, and enjoy doing whatever it is that they liked doing.

“Hey. Chicken boy.”

It was the same voice I’d heard in the hallway during my test. I was supposed to be in the cafeteria for dinner within the next few minutes, but there was no way I could pass up a chance to talk to him. I turn around and see him sitting on the ground, tucked oddly underneath one of the facility’s drinking fountains.

“Hey.” I walk over to his crouched form, fighting the urge to check over my shoulder for anyone who might be watching. I was going to be in so much trouble if I was late to dinner. The commission kept me on a very strict schedule. It was strange that any other students would still be here though. Everyone else had gone home for the day.

I kneel down so it’d be easier to talk to him, but I was a bit too big to fit under the fountain with my wings. This is the closest I’d ever been to him, so it was a little startling to finally make eye contact with his icy blue stare after admiring him from afar for so long. If this was going to be my first impression, I had to make it good. I fluff up my wings and allow a huge smile to take over my face before asking, “Is everything okay?” The boy scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Stop it with that stupid hero act.” He crosses his arms over his knees which were tucked into his chest, making himself look younger and smaller than he was. His words sent a jolt into my stomach though. Stop the hero act? Being a perfect hero inside and out had been the main purpose of my existence since the facility had taken me in. I didn’t know how to stop.

“What’s your name, bird brain?” Apparently he’d grown impatient with my silence. I knew ‘Chicken Boy’ and ‘Bird Brain’ were probably supposed to be offensive, but I’d honestly be fine with any nickname just to keep him talking to me. I rarely got the chance to talk so casually with someone, especially someone so close to my age, and especially someone as interesting at this boy. Ever since he’d joined the facility, he’d only attended classes about seventy percent of the time. The times he did show up were spent driving the facility staff mad by questioning and challenging every order he was given. I liked his attitude, and I wanted to know what made him go absent so often.

“My name’s Hawks.” I soften my smile this time in the hopes he’ll reciprocate the friendliness. The irritation on his face only increases at my answer. He sighs and runs a hand through his thick, red, spiked up hair. His sleeve slides down to reveal that his wrist and forearm are covered in tightly wrapped bandages. It’s not the first time I’d seen him with injuries like that, and it was one of the many things that had made me so curious about him. How did he always end up hurt so badly? Did it happen during his training? Was he pushing himself too hard? Was someone doing it to him? There’d been no clues about what his quirk could be, so I couldn’t be sure what the story was.

“I meant your real name, moron.” The insults were getting more offensive, but I didn’t mind. I’d been taught by the commission that people lashed out at others out of fear, sadness, or insecurity. As a hero, I’d have to deal with people experiencing emotions like that every day. I couldn’t let it get to me.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone my real name,” I admit calmly while trying to think of a way to get him to open up to me. This was my first chance to try and make a real friend.

“Why not?” his tone was mocking, “You think you’re special because you live here and get special treatment?” The question was shocking. Is that what all my classmates thought of me? I was certainly lucky to have been taken in by the commission, but being caged inside was also a burden at times.

“I was told that it was safer for me to always use a hero name,” I explain, wondering if I was really supposed to be sharing details like that without asking. “The commission didn’t want anyone to be able to use my past against me.” A dark look passed across my classmate’s face then and he finally crawls out from under the fountain. I scramble to stand up too, worried that he was going to leave. He doesn’t walk away though. He just stands there with a scowl on his face.

“I wish someone would erase my past,” he finally mumbles after a pause. “It must be nice.”

“It’s lonely,” the words are out before I can stop them. I wasn’t ever supposed to show true vulnerability like that, but how could I not after he’d said something so sad? The expression on his face changes after that, probably surprised by my admission. The heat from his blue eyes seems to dull and the tension leaves his shoulders.

“Lonely, huh?” all the aggression had left his voice and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a sad smile. “Well isn’t that a pity?” I couldn’t tell if he was still making fun of me or not. Perhaps my isolation was amusing compared to whatever he dealt with that left him with open wounds all over his body. He reaches forward suddenly and wraps his fingers around my wrist to tug me closer. My brain all but short circuits at both the close proximity and his touch. It suddenly occurs to me that I had no idea when I’d last had physical contact with someone that wasn’t for a training or medical purpose.

“Let me fill you in on a secret,” he’s speaking just quietly enough that I have to lean in just a bit more to catch his words. “This place isn’t grooming you to be a hero. Not a real one anyway. They’re just brainwashing you into being a puppet that follows orders and never thinks for itself.”

“No, that’s not true.” It was a kneejerk response and deep down I knew it.

“Yeah, it is. Dumb bird,” the frown is back and he shakes his head. “Open your eyes.”

Open your eyes.

Suddenly the thought of ever being in a blindfold again made me want to be sick. Had the facility really been using me this whole time? Were they really training me into the type of hero I wanted to be? Surely it couldn’t be true. This classmate that I had been so intrigued by was clearly just trying to shatter the confidence that I’d worked so hard to build. He obviously wasn’t happy with his own life, and like they say, misery loves company.

“Hawks!” my supervisor comes stomping down the hallway towards us. The boy standing in front of me lets go of my wrist and backs away. “There you are! Did you forget what time dinner was? Oh. Toya…” there was clear distaste in my supervisor’s tone once he sees who I’m with. “That explains it. You know your father’s been blowing up our phone trying to figure out where you are?”

“I don’t care.” The boy says flatly, “He can go to hell.” He unconsciously starts rubbing at his arms where the bandages are.

“You should really reconsider that attitude of yours,” my supervisor warns him before turning to me. “Get to the cafeteria right now. And you’d better hope I never have to go searching for you again.” I look at Toya, wanting to continue our conversation so I could figure out what was going on with him and squash the uncertainty that was suddenly spreading through my head like wildfire. I didn’t want to get us into more trouble by disobeying, but I also had an urge to show him that I could act on my own. Before I could change my mind, I lunge forward and throw my arms around his neck to pull him into a tight embrace. He either didn’t want to hug me back because of his injured arms or didn’t know how to do it without disturbing my wings because he kept his arms hanging limply at his sides. That was okay though. It made me happy that he didn’t push me away.

“Keigo Takami,” I whisper as quietly as possible near his ear. “That’s my name.” I back away quickly with a big grin on my face. There was something liberating about releasing that information when I wasn’t supposed to. Toya raises his eyebrows at me, looking impressed. I wasn’t really ready to leave yet, but I didn’t want to push my luck more than I already had. “Goodbye,” I tell him before excusing myself and heading to the cafeteria.

* * *

After hearing that I’d diverged from the facility’s schedule to talk to another student in the hallway, my two weeks of extra training got extended to four. I knew that it would be difficult for me to ever talk to Toya again, at least not for a while. I used the time to really think about what he’d told me. I thought about my life in the facility and about the life I hoped to someday live as a pro hero. There were definitely a few things I could admit bothered me. The biggest one wasn’t even about how they treated me. It was how they treated Toya. Being a hero meant knowing when someone needed your help, and Toya was clearly a person that needed saving.

In class, I did my best to acknowledge him without drawing too much attention to ourselves, but the most interaction we could manage was a subtle head nod every now and then. After a week or so, he went missing for a couple days. He came back with fresh bandages on his arms. It confused me how the teachers and facility staff could allow whatever was doing this to him to continue. After the comment he’d made about his dad, I wondered if his father was the one to inflict the wounds. There was no way the commission would turn a blind eye to that though, right?

Blind

I was starting to sense a theme.

As time passed, Toya spent more and more time away from the facility. I couldn’t help but worry as the amount of bandages on his body increased until they covered his arms and legs completely and even wrapped up around his neck. The attitude he was known for had all but vanished too. The fight had gone out of him, leaving the light in his blue eyes looking distant and dead. I wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in my wings and protect him from whatever was hurting him, but feared getting the both of us into trouble. A few months later, Toya stopped showing up all together. When I asked my supervisor about it, he expertly danced around the question using the same methods of controlling the conversation that I’d been taught during my time as his student. I realized now that it wasn’t diplomacy I was learning, it was manipulation.

Toya had been right. Good heroes weren’t meant to be deceitful or to ignore injustices. I made a vow then to use the commission the way they had been using me. I’d let them train me and make me strong. I’d pretend to agree with their corrupted methods and ideals until I was powerful enough to change them myself. I’d do everything I possibly could to become a great hero and never allow myself to be put in a blindfold again.

[kshitij1997]

Hello again!

Let’s continue, shall we?

This chapter is strictly based in Arendelle, unlike the last few chapters.

All Frozen and Tangled characters belong to Disney.

 

Chapter 11: If it takes forever, then I’ll walk forever

 

Iduna had noticed a change in herself; she had never been so weary as she felt now. Worry had become a staple state of existence for her. The trio, as her three daughters called, had been shattered. There was a time when they were inseparable; Anna, Olva and Elsa walking hand in hand, a bunch of peas in the same pod.

That was when life was easy, but what a difference a single incident makes.

Her mind raced back to when she saw the carnage; the ballroom floor solidified into an ugly amalgamation of snow and ice. Elsa’s ice had always been beautiful but then, in that ill moment, it flashed the white light of doom and destruction. As for her children, they were there, two of them unconscious, a massive cracked debris of ice, a snowman reduced to fine powder. And there Elsa was, holding her fainted sisters wailing to the sky and constricted by terror. With Anna having a streak of white across her hair, and Olva’s right side marred by scars from the sharp ice.

She remembered feeling grotesque by the spoils; how Agnarr had to hatchet through the door held firm by the ice. The fragments of her family fallen prey to a probable moment of panic; a moment of ill moment. This was a cold worse than winter.

She remembered how she and Agnarr had to gallop on their royal steeds as they never had, in that moment she felt as if she was on a death wish, trying to rein in her horse and holding fast her two injured children. She had known this would happen, and she let it happen.

Grand Pabbie warned her, she should have been more careful.

Elsa shouldn’t have panicked.

And yet, there they were, about to reach the lair of the stonepeople.

She remembered how Grand Pabbie was not pleased ‘Every time Your Majesties choose to grace us with your presence, it always disrupts our winter meditation. Sometimes, I am forced to believe that you are wishing for a polar event.’

‘Forgive us please Grand Pabbie, we seriously need your help and guidance, there’s been an accident.’ Agnarr pleaded as he’d never done before.

‘An accident with your firstborn’s powers? For why my aid would be needed otherwise?’

‘Grand Pabbie, my children’s lives are at stake, you must help us, we have nowhere else to go.’ The king ignored the irreverence.

Grand Pabbie relented ‘Apologies for my annoyance, Your Majesties. Tell me everything.’

 Iduna remembered telling Grand Pabbie everything, or at least what she could understand from what Elsa had managed to tell her between sobs.

The hermit of half rock-moss and half flesh answered quickly and definitively; it was imperative to reverse the effects of Elsa’s powers; else the victims could freeze into solid ice. Grand Pabbie reassured them; they were lucky it was the head, not the heart. One could fool the head, but the heart was another matter entirely; the heart required a genuine act of love and sacrifice, those were hard to come by. As for Olva, it was more towards shock and blunt force trauma, they had done a disservice to her by bringing her there, while she should have been resting. Iduna felt personally responsible for that; she had insisted the whole family to go.

‘Grand Pabbie, what about the powers themselves? Is there any hope?’

Grand Pabbie turned to directly face Elsa; the great golem like hermit moved slowly but with purpose towards the little platinum blonde girl. The girl couldn’t help but stare at his presence; someone who didn’t emote much, but his feelings were remarkably easy to understand and notice regardless. In that moment she saw sympathy and pity; It was something she’d never seen before. She realized that didn’t like that feeling at all.

‘Your poor child of destiny, how one must step up to face the world regardless of age and be brought to reality. I’m sorry it was so sudden and such an unfortunate circumstance for you. Your powers would only grow from here on, to command the forces of nature akin to the ancient giants. Bringing joy and relief to those who need it.’, Grand Pabbie stated as he manipulated a few wisps in his hand to show an eight-headed star glowing blue and bright.

‘However, the power would also bring terror and fear and loss of control as they assert themselves, which would lead to your doom and destruction.’ Grand Pabbie continued as the star collapsed upon itself, crumbling into a red mass of death, smothered by red fire and smoke and a bright, shining sword coming straight for her. Elsa had to hide into her father’s arms from the horror.

‘The only thing you must fear is fear itself. It is your greatest enemy.’ The hermit finished as the wisps trailed off into nothingness. 

‘What now, Grand Pabbie? Is she done for?’ Iduna asked worriedly.

‘I have just told you how she may combat the challenges she faces; she can’t succumb to fear. I would advise to help her build trust with a few close people and help her naturally experience and embrace her powers. She cannot be made to feel like a monster. She must be dealt with empathy and compassion. As for the other two of your daughters, for Anna I would need to induce some slight amnesia, because her mind is a little too fragile to understand it. However, Anna must be made to understand soon, this is a temporary measure, she can’t be kept in the dark forever. For Olva, as she wasn’t directly struck with Elsa’s powers, she doesn’t need any procedure, but she does need to be cared for very carefully, we don’t know how she may react to certain things yet. It may manifest as anything, she may experience pain, fainting, lash out in anger, or worse turn unfeeling towards everyone. Or maybe she wakes up unscathed. Regardless, I hope you can help her meaningfully. Please don’t treat this lightly, it is imperative.’

Iduna was at a loss for words; how would she and Agnarr manage it all? As for Agnarr, he was lost in thought, putting his intuition to practice. At length Agnarr spoke, ‘What if Olva has amnesia induced as well?’. Grand Pabbie was taken aback, he almost looked offended, ‘Your Majesty, that is a very irresponsible thing to ask. How can you even consider it? If I try inducing amnesia upon her mind, it may induce unprecedented effects, it may even worsen her recovery. Please don’t ask me to do it.’

‘I order you to do it.’ Agnarr put his foot down.

Grand Pabbie could not resist now, it was an order, even if it was from a monarch acting out of character.

‘Alright, Your Majesty, I’ll do as you say. Little dark-haired one, forgive this poor servant of nature, for he has to do something terrible.’ With that, Grand Pabbie put a heavy hand upon Olva’s forehead. The unconscious girl woke up at once, as if in a trance and screamed into the pale moonlight, a sharp contrast to how Anna took it. But then magic to counter magic was usual, magic to answer for something blunt, not so much.

Iduna remembered how Elsa stood there in shock, how she wanted to shut her eyes but couldn’t; how she herself had to close her eyes and grab on to her family, she couldn’t bear to watch it.

The procedure was over at long last, when Olva fell unconscious again, drained from the ordeal and turning pale, as if a certain glow had been taken from her body.

Elsa only asked one question ‘They won’t remember that I have powers?’

‘It is for the best.’ Agnarr said.

Looking back at that moment, Iduna felt that she should have raised her voice and tried Agnarr to see sense. Alas, that moment was past.

Now, Agnarr had been gone almost a month, shoring up alliances to help despite the blockade. She had to face them all alone. She had to take charge, she couldn’t abandon the kingdom, or her family. Even so, sitting through the meetings was tedious, especially when she had to explain and defend every move in front of the council, who didn’t consider the blockade popular at all.

To say nothing of facing her daughters, how many times must she lie to them? The mere thought exhausted her-

‘Ma!’ Anna’s voice could be heard from across the hall as it broke Iduna’s chain of thought.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Why won’t Elsie come out? Is she not feeling well?’ Anna asked.

‘No, she’s fine, why do you say that?’

‘It’s that she’s avoiding me. When I asked her to come out and play, she flat out said no. Did I do something wrong?’

Bless her innocence.

‘She’s worried about something; I am helping her with it. I promise she’ll be better soon.’ Shit, that was a mistake.

‘I know she’ll be better Ma, but she hasn’t come out to play in so long! Winter’s about to end soon, I don’t want to miss the last snow of the season.’ Anna said with a frown.

‘She has to take her studies seriously, you know, one day she must lead. You want her to do well, don’t you?’ It felt icky tricking her child like that, but it was for the greater good. Moreover, there was some truth in it.

‘Yes, I do, but it’s like she’s gone away. I don’t know if she’d come out again.’ Anna said with a choked tone.

‘What about Olva? Didn’t she play with you?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know what’s happened to her. I mean, we still had quite some fun, but we did miss Elsa. Then suddenly, Olva started screaming, shouting ‘my head, my head!’ then fainted, I had to call the help. Didn’t you hear, Ma?’ Anna said

Now, that was news to her. What kind of a mother was she? The kind who half-heartedly juggles everything and fails, Iduna reflected bitterly. Oh, I wish Agnarr was here.

‘I heard, she’s in the infirmary, I thought she had a bruise, I didn’t know she fainted.’ Another half lie, great.

‘Also, she’s grown, I don’t know, more angry? She always has a frown on her face. She wasn’t like that earlier, she used to crack jokes, dance around, Ma. Now she just sits blank for a long time. I had to shake her to get her attention. Is she alright?’, the little princess was obviously bewildered.

‘I’ll sit with her, don’t worry. She’ll be fine, I promise.’ Making promises was becoming a bad habit.

‘Now, it’s getting late Anna. Come, I’ll take you to your room’

‘I don’t want to sleep in there, it feels so empty since Elsa and Olva moved out.’ Anna moaned.

‘Come on, don’t do this.’

‘Ma, can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t want to be alone.’ Anna asked, with a sad expression.

‘Alright, come with me.’ Iduna sighed.

One mother and daughter had settled in their room, Anna asked ‘Tell me a story.’

‘Anna, please go to sleep.’

‘Ma I remember you promising us when we were ready, that you’ll tell each one of us a story. I want to listen to mine, I think I’m ready.’  

Iduna looked at Anna, knowing exactly what she could do. The least I can do is prepare here for the worst.

Iduna began her story:

It was the story of Isabel, who wanted to go to France. She’d spent virtually her entire childhood dreaming about it. As the daughter of a wealthy colonial governor, she grew up with every luxury available to 1700s Ecuador, but in her young mind, it was nothing compared to the magic of France. In her teens, her dream began to come into focus. A dashing young Frenchman, Jean Godin des Odonais, came to town on an expedition. Isabel took to him immediately, and by all accounts, Jean was equally in love with her. They married within the year.

A few years later, with Jean’s work wrapped up, they made plans to move to France. Jean went ahead to arrange passports and travel across the Atlantic. He was to return for Isabel and their unborn child—the only one of four who’d live past childhood. He thought he’d be gone two years. He was gone for twenty. Because Spain and Portugal ran South America (and neither were allies with France), they wouldn’t let Jean make the return trip. He couldn’t even get letters to Isabel; he could barely get them to Europe. And when his letters begging for passage did make it to Spain and Portugal, they were mired in red tape, not moving anywhere. He tried everything he could think of to reunite with Isabel, getting so desperate that he tried instigating war between France and Portugal.

His efforts were unsuccessful; he spent two long decades almost going crazy trying to get to her, and she had no idea. Still, Isabel waited. Even as neighbours said Jean wasn’t coming back. Even as her daughter grew into a woman. Even as her family fell on hard times. She waited and waited and waited, until her daughter died of smallpox.

She had been nineteen and never got to meet her father.

So, Isabel stopped waiting, and based on the hearsay that Jean was still alive, left to find him. Joining together a group of 42 people, she set off to reunite with her husband on an incredibly dangerous journey. The group included her two brothers, her nephew, her servant, Joaquim, some maids, a doctor, and several native porters.

The 3,000-mile route, which wound around an active volcano, across ramshackle wooden bridges, and through the heart of the Amazon jungle, had only been done by a handful of groups before. They estimated it would take six months. The group started dwindling when they found an abandoned village. It had been ravaged by smallpox and burned to the ground. The porters fled immediately. The group continued in a canoe down a flooding river, although none of them knew how to canoe or swim. Isabel nearly drowned, and they lost many of their supplies. They soon ended up at a sandbar, where they split up. The doctor’s small group took the boat and continued, promising to send back help. But after two weeks with no rescue in sight, Isabel, her brothers, and her nephew built a raft and set off downriver. The raft sank almost immediately, taking their supplies with it.

They continued on foot, with Isabel finally switching from frilly dresses to her brother’s spare trousers. They walked into thick jungle without food, direction, or sunlight. There they became a playground for wasps, scorpions, fire ants, and many things worse. The carpets of flies refused them sleep. The jungle refused them food.

Four weeks, they walked. And they began to die.

First her nephew.

Then her brother.

Then her other brother.

Until Isabel was the only one left.

Isabel had lost everything. Her children, her home, her family. Twenty long years of heartbreak, weighing her down. And so, she lay down on the jungle floor, curled up next to her brother, and waited to die.

Anna was in tears at this point and asked, ‘Please tell me she’s going to be fine.’ Then proceeded to come closer to Iduna, her face buried into Iduna’s arms.

‘Let’s find out, little one’ Iduna said and continued:

But try as she might, she could not die. Even as she began to slip away, a voice called out to her, a voice that would not let her go to sleep, that talked of tasks unfinished and duties undone.

It was the voice of her dear Jean. He said, “Get up, Isabel.” And slowly, she began to crawl forward.

After eight days alone, she stumbled across some native hunters, and immediately collapsed. Over the next month, they nursed her back to health, ridding her of botflies and other parasites. Her hair had turned permanently grey. Her hand was crippled. But she was alive. She gave them two gold necklaces, and set about freeing her servant, Joaquim, from jail, as he’d been suspected of murdering her.

Six months later, for the first time in 21 years, on a boat on the Oyapock River, Isabel Godin saw her husband.

They sailed to Europe three years later, and in her beloved French countryside, she lived a quiet, long, happy life.         

Anna breathed a sigh of relief ‘Oh thank goodness! Poor Isabel, she went through a lot!’

‘Yes, she did, baby mine.’

‘Why did her daughter have to die? It’s not fair. She was completely alone near the end.’

‘Life’s not very fair, as you’ll find out soon. Moreover, she did it all for love. She held faith that she would meet her trapped love someday.’

‘Hmm, I guess. But why did she suffer so much, Ma?’

‘As you know, not a lot of people are as well off as we are, they would struggle in their lives if trapped in this manner. But Isabel rose to the occasion, made a big sacrifice and found peace and happiness in the end.’

‘Ma, if Elsa or Olva are in such trouble, would I be able to do the same?’

‘That’s a question you’ll have to answer yourself. I can’t answer it for you, I’m sorry.’

‘I think I’d do the same. If they’re in any such event, I’d follow beyond doubt to help or rescue them. And, if it takes forever, then I’d walk forever.’ Anna declared as she caressed her white streak of hair.

God bless you, poor child, Iduna thought as she tucked Anna in for the night and bid her good night.

With that done, she made a beeline for the infirmary where she found Dr Klaus keeping Olva under observation.

‘Your Majesty, please come in.’ said the weary doctor as he straightened his coat and rose from his seat.

‘Oh, don’t mind me. How’s Olva doing?’

‘She’s better now. However, earlier she was in a state of intermittent consciousness. When she was awake, she was describing a most terrible headache. I believe she used the phrase “A knife of ice carving inside her head.” The doctor told as he checked his notes on the dark-haired princess.

‘Furthermore, she also mentioned seeing a pale blue light, atop a high mountain in her vision. At that point she had begun to grow agitated and almost had a fit. I had to give her brandy to sedate her. She should be fine and wake up in the morning. Still, it would be wise to be alert. ’ The doctor finished.

‘Oh no, doctor. What’ll happen now?’ Iduna asked with fear.

‘It’s still early stages. From what I understand so far, the trauma from the accident may have triggered something dormant into activity. We must not treat this callously; she must be treated with utmost care. She needs to feel safe.’

‘I understand Dr. Klaus, but these headaches have persisted for more than a month now, and they only grow worse. What shall we do?’

‘I would suggest help her find a distraction, a hobby, something she can engage with, something that soothes her.’

‘I understand, thank you Dr. Klaus.’ Iduna said as she planted a small kiss on Olva’s forehead and turned to leave.

‘Your Majesty, what about princess Elsa? How’s she coping? This must be hard on her.’

‘She’s grown quiet and withdrawn, I’m trying my hardest to get her connected back to us.’

‘Try harder, your majesty.’, with that, the doctor made his leave and went back to observe princess Olva. 

As the queen made her way back to her chambers, she found Elsa’s room to be slightly open. Taking advantage of the ajar door, she went silently inside Elsa’s room. What she saw, she would remember for a long time.     

Her daughter was fast asleep, but her room was a mess. There was snow and ice on edge of every cupboard, windowsill or even the ceiling. It was clear that she had clearly tried to hold it in and failed. There may have been a struggle, she had tried to dig in the floor, but her efforts ended in vain, and she had deflected a blast of ice at the wall, the same bluish-white stain as usual. It had been ages since Iduna could remember Elsa making anything beautiful from her ice. This was fear, completely driving her powers.

Iduna suddenly noticed her daughter’s hands; there were bruises in her palms, clearly from her attempt to dig in her hands to prevent her powers from leaking. On Elsa’s face were the dry marks of tears shed a while ago; the poor princess had cried herself to sleep.

Iduna realized tearfully, Elsa needs more help.

 

Yeah, we’re getting to Do you want to build a snowman?, that weapon of mass emotional destruction. But as always, the world is happening around them, and they must keep up!

And yes, Isabel’s story is absolutely true, and Anna’s mantra “If it takes forever, then I’ll walk forever” is on brand. More power to Anna, I say.

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome!

[antonfm]

can     u     believe     that     a     whole     entire     day          after     the     rp     opens          ,          i     finally     have     my     shit     together     enough     to     post     an     intro          !          can     u     fuckin     believe     it          !          anyways          ,          i’m     elliot          (          she/they          )          ,          i’m     20     n     i’m     a     supreme     dumbass     who     needs     2     get     their     life     together     on     so     many     levels          .  .  .          it’s     fine     though          !          completely     fine          !          totally     n     utterly     fine          !!!

(          timothee     chalamet          &          cis     male          )          who          ??          these     days          ,          it’s     all     about     anton     olivier          ,          who     comes     from     manhattan          ,          ny          ,          and     is     making     headlines     as     an     actor          .          he     currently     has     a     fan     count     of     45.9k          ,          no     thanks    ��to     the     rumours     of     them     being     vainglorious          !          but          ,          on     the     other     hand          ,          his     most     devout     fans     say     he’s     actually     retiary          .          last     i     heard          ,          he     caused     quite     a     buzz     when     he     was     caught     leaving     multiple     lovers’     houses     despite     being     in     an     allegedly     ‘     committed     ’     relationship          !          it’s     no     wonder     they     remind     me     of     inky     black     as     a     beautiful     contrast     to     stark     white          ,          tastes     of     fake     blood          &          bourbon     dancing     a     mistimed     tango     on     your     tongue          ,          stacks     of     literary     classics     like     small     mountains     on     your     living     room     floor          ,          abandoned     chastity     ring          (          ruby     red     gemstone          ,          isn’t     it     ironic          ?          )          ,          heat     -     slick     kisses     smeared     to     the     corner     of     your     mouth          ;          dark     academia          /          technicolour     ghost     disappearing     in     the     middle     of     a     crowd          ,          slipping     into     the     back     of     a     lecture     theatre     abound     with     rapt     attention          ,          pressing     bruises     into     not     -     yet     -     ripe     fruit     for     the     thrill     of     watching     it     wilt     beneath     satin     touch          .

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯     𝔬𝔫𝔢     .          rudimentals          .

full     name:     anton     françois     olivier     . nicknames,     aliases:

ant     .

mon     cher     .          (          by     his     mother     .          )

age:     twenty     -     three     . date     of     birth:     october     fifteenth     . place     of     birth:     manhattan         ,         new     york     city     . nationality:     american     . ethnicity:     caucasian     (     french     )     . spoken     languages:     english          ,          fluent     french          (          spoken     in     household     more     commonly     than     english          )          .

zodiac     sign:     scorpio     . hogwarts     house:     slytherin     . myers     -     briggs:     infp     -     t     .

career     claims:     charlie     heaton     ,     some     of     bill     skargsard’s     stuff     .          (          i’ll     write     his     imdb     page     later     .          )

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯     𝔱𝔴𝔬     .          physicals          .

height:     six     foot     three     . weight:     157     lbs     .

complexion:     pale     ,     scarily     so     .     nothing     medical     about     it     ,     just     a     natural     pallid     sheen     to     sharp     features     .     a     small     ,     light     dusting     of     freckles     over     the     nose     and     cheeks     and     forehead     .      face     shape:     heart     -     shaped     ,     incredibly     angular     .     sharp     cheekbones     and     jawline     ,     square     and     dashing     in     a     sinister     kind     of     way     .     very     thin     ,     very     gaunt     .      facial     quirks:     in     some     lights     his     left     eye     is     ever     so     slightly     lighter     than     the     other     ,     but     it’s     a     trick     of     the     light     .

hair:     black     ,     naturally     so     (     your     mother’s     hair     )     .     has     a     slight     natural     wave     that     sometimes     springs     to     a     loose     curl     .     recently     ,     you’ve     grown     it     out     so     that     it     curls     around     the     nape     of     your     neck     and     falls     into     your     eyes     .     typically     ,     strands     are     tucked     behind     your     ears     unless     they     fall     out     of     place     .     soft     ,     incredibly     so     --- -     cherry     blossom     shampoo     and     conditioner     ensures     that     . eyes:     bright     blue     ,     cobalt     .     golden     rings     around     the     pupils     ,     with     green     and     hazel     flecks     throughout     .     lashes     are     unfairly     long     and     dark     ,     a     prettily     sooty     smudge     against     the     high     ridge     of     your     cheekbones     .     brows     are     dark     and     expressive     ,     unruly     ,     arched     ever     so     slightly     .     dark     indigo     bags     underneath     your     eyes     aren’t     an     unusual     sight     ,     results     of     too     -     long     nights     and     a     strange     work     schedule     . nose:     your     mother’s     button     nose     ,     small     and     straight     and     ‘     lovely     ’     according     to     your     rabid     fan     base     .     nothing     much     to     say     about     it     otherwise     .     you     considered     piercing     it     when     you     were     fifteen     and     going     through     it     for     unknown     reasons     .      mouth:     relatively     normal     lips     ,     slightly     plusher     lower     lip     but     that’s     not     saying     much     .     chewed     ,     bitten     ,     chapped     like     nothing     else     /     favourite     flavour     of     burt’s     bees     is     pomegranate     .     teeth     are     white     ,     straight     ,     pretty     good     teeth          ;          indents     of     which     often     find     themselves     deep     in     that     lower     lip     .

scars:     none     of     note     .     the     typical     petite     white     scars     of     childhood     across     knees     and     elbows     ,     but     nothing     too     serious     . tattoos,     piercings:     none     .     there     are     plans     in     the     works     ,     but     currently          ?          nothing     . more     body     modifications:     again     ,     nothing     .     bitch     is     boring     .

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯     𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢     .          biographicals          .

not     quite     your     typical     tale     of     boy     -     meets     girl          ;          art     gallery     curator     curator     watches     broadway     ‘     ingénue     ’          &          falls     head     over     heels     in     an     infatuation     that     borders     on     obsession     but     is     returned     tenfold     .     adele     st     .     croix     can’t     believe     her     luck          (          moved     to     manhattan     just     two     years     previously          ,          resumé     builds     beyond     belief          ,          engagement     to     a     big     name     is     imminent          !          )          and     pierre     -     louis     olivier     has     never     been     so     deeply     in     love     before          .          the     courtship     is     wonderful          ,          twilight     walks     in     the     park          ,          regular     dates     at     terribly     romantic     restaurants          ,          soft     kisses     on     random     stoops     and     rough          ,          impassioned     kisses     on     your     own          .          the     engagement     comes     in     1995          ,          &          a     year     later          ,          marriage     is     a     cover     story     and     a     four     -     page     spread     in     all     the     glossy     tabloids     your     mother     loves     to     collect          .          

your     conception     comes     as     a     shock          ,          of     course          .          neither     wanted     children     so     early          ,          just     a     year     into     their     marriage     but     the     very     first     time     that     your     mother’s     silky     -     smooth     hands     rest     on     the     then     -     flat     expanse     of     her     belly     it’s     over          .          unspoken     talks     of     termination     that     weighed     uncomfortably     heavily     on     unmoving     tongues     are     quashed          ,          replaced     by     fluttering     anticipation     of     a     child          .          your     impending     birth     is     announced     three     months     after     your     parents     find     out     they’re     expecting     you          ,          &          soon     enough     your     own     infantile     chunk     of     their     upper     east     side     penthouse          (          a     grandiose     wedding     present          )          is     carved     out          ;          decked     in     earthy     tones     and     warm     creams          ,          pastels     of     all     shades     and     joy     woven     into     each     choice          ,          you     are     a     source     of     joy     to     rival     the     sun          .

birth     is     almost     perfect          ,          only     one     day     past     your     due     date          .          naturally     your     first     breath     is     a     noisy     one          ,          wailing     and     crying     and     oh          ,          how     they     adore     you     already          !          adoration     seeps     into     your     bones     from     the     first     time     mother     holds     you          ,          presses     a     kiss     to     your     head     and     breathes     in     that     lavender         ,         fresh     -     linen     new     baby     smell          .          from     that     very     first     moment     love     is     ingrained     into     every     single     pore          ;          love     is     what     you     breathe          ,          what     you     feed     on          ,          what     you     see     the     world     through          .          your     mother     and     father     are     almost     sickeningly     in     love          ,          true     dotage     in     its     finest     form     and     later     in     life     you     suppose     you’re     lucky     to     have     grown     up     with     such     a     wonderful     idea     of     what     true     romance     is     meant     to     look     like          .          they     love     each     other          ,          and     they     love     you          .

childhood     is     wonderful          ,          if     you’re     perfectly     honest          .          it’s     a     blur     of     ice     cream     at     fancy     parlours     after     your     mother     picks     you     up     from     school          ,          renting     movies     and     getting     wonderful     takeaway     and     laughing     until     your     sides     ache          .          it’s     freshly     -     laundered     uniforms     that     just     look     so     damn     precious          ,          school     ties     in     immaculate     windsor     knots          .          (          schools     are     all     catholic          ,          of     course          ;          some     things     die     hard          ,          but     your     mother     and     father’s     commitment     to     their     faith     dies     harder          .          )          church     on     sunday     mornings          ,          followed     by     brunch     and     a     movie          /          picturesque          ,          absolutely     perfect          .          ignore     the     paparazzi     trailing     behind     you          ,          though          .          ignore     the     fact     that     despite     everything          ,          a     childhood     dripping     with     luxury     and     privilege     is     not     really     a     normal     childhood          .          normal     children     don’t     dress     in     such     expensive     clothes     in     their     free     time          ,          normal     children     don’t     understand     the     complete     and     utter         hedonism     that     you’re     enabled          .          

it’s     only     a     matter     of     time     before     you     find     your     calling          ,          though          .          you     are     fourteen          ,          already     a     gangly     mess     of     too     -     long     limbs     and     charming     smile     and     curls     that     melt     even     the     iciest     of     glares          .          you’ve     sat     in     the     backs     of     theatres     while     your     mother     rehearses     for     your     entire     life          ,          and     stepping     into     the     harsh     spotlight     itself     feels     like     home     in     a     way     you     can’t     possibly     describe     in     either     of     the     tongues     that     crowd     your     mouth          .          your     first     performance     is     macbeth          ,          and     you     dominate     like     nothing     else          ,          tragic     figure     with     a     mouth     of     steel          .          for     the     next     few     years     of     your     high     school     education     you     always     score     the     leading     role          ,          not     through     anything     but     the     sheer     force     of     your     talent          .          acting     is     second     nature     to     you          ,          a     comfortable     set     of     skins     you     fall     into     like     it’s     nothing          ,          like     they’re     nothing          .

sixteen     when     you     get     your     first     gig     ,     a     guest     appearance     in     some     established     police     procedural     ,     but     it’s     a     rush     like     nothing     else     .     one     gig     leads     to     another     ,     and     another     ,     and     another     !     it’s     not     until     you’re     hired     by     netflix     to     do     their     biggest     hit     ,     some     then     -     untitled     sci     -     fi     horror     80s     thing     ,     that     you     take     off     like     nothing     else     and     god     ,     it’s     like     nothing     you’ve     ever     known     .     blockbusters     are     offered     to     you     after     your     second     season     airs     ,     you     find     yourself     in     cameos     in     fucking     marvel     movies     ,     &     yet     nothing’s     quite     as     thrilling     as     horror     .     something     crawls     under     your     skin     the     first     day     you     shoot     stranger     things     ,     and     it’s     stuck     ever     since          ;          you     make     a     good     archetype     ,     the     dopey     yet     helpful     boyfriend     ,     the     white     knight     .     you’re     barely     nineteen     when     you     decide     what     your     avenue     is     and     make     a     conscientious     decision     to     stick     to     it     .

and     now          ?          your     imdb     page     glitters     ,     cacophany     of     roles     quite     unlike     each     other     ,     bad     guy     and     good     guy     and     killer     and     saviour     ,     all     crammed     in     together     .     didn’t     think     you     had     time     but     somewhere     you     met     someone     ,     fell     in     love     ,     started     dating     ,     all     that          ;          but     that     bleeding     ,     genuine     heart     of     yours     can’t     be     contained     ,     falls     in     love     five     times     a     day     ,     catches     itself     upon     the     hooks     of     others     and     impulse     control     is     a     long     -     forgotten     acquaintance     .     newspapers     call     you     a     heartbreaker     ,     but     you     never     break     hearts          ;          you     simply     leave     your     scent     on     bedsheets     and     heartbeats     alike     ,     prettiest     kind     of     ghost     .     sometimes     you     play     up     the     ‘     arrogant     heartbreaking     dipshit     ’     spiel     for     interviews     but     with     you     ,     what     you     see     is     what     you     get     :     passionate     ,     driven     ,     emotional     .     a     fervour     .     a     lover     ,     a     romantic     ,     altruistic     kinds     of     chaos     .     the     prettiest     kind     of     confusion     ,     all     wrapped     up     under     that     surname     .     oh     darling     ,     you’re     the     nicest     kind     of     sweet     nightmare     and     you     don’t     even     know     it     .

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯     𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯     .          wanted     connections          .

the     committed     relationship     .

the     string     of     lovers     he’s     been     seeing     .

exes     ,     on     any     kinds     of     terms     .

school     friends     from     forever     ago     .

co     -     stars     .

rivals     !!!!

literally     anything     PLEASE

[obsidiancorner]

Snow White and the Sins of a Werewolf- Chapter 1

ObiYuki Bingo ‘19

Werewolf AU

Word Count: ~2700

Please note: There is mild gore in about two paragraphs involving the death of an animal’s prey. Please, read responsibly. 

Obi snarls as he rips out of the old manor house, door slamming shut behind him as his clawed feet splash through the muck left behind by yesterday’s storm. He needs time away from the slowly decaying home he and Torou saved from abandonment- time away from her nagging him about the curse that plagues every minute of their pathetic, only-now repentant lives. 

A flurry of branches moving forcefully overhead tells him that blighted Abyssinian cat he calls his best friend is following him. Stupid woman never did learn to leave well-enough alone. “This argument is over,” he sneers at the streak of sepia fur flying above him. 

The only chance of keeping pace with him available to her is flying through the trees. Ironic... In their days as humans, he had always been the one to be at home among the dense cover of the canopy foliage. Now, he’s too large for anything but the lowest branches of the sturdiest trees and she gets to enjoy his most beloved freedom.

“It is not. Not until you listen to me,” her seemingly disembodied voice counters. “I know you’re losing hope but we need to do something about this curse before it becomes permanent.”

Since when had she become the voice of reason? 

“You think I’m not painfully aware of that,” Obi roars at the general vicinity of where he had last heard the clacking of branches as he pulls himself to a stop. 

Sable eyes, round with empathy, blink back at him as she sits down in front of him on a branch at his eye level. “I know it hurts, Obi. I’m not happy either.” She inches closer to him, testing the depths of his ire knowing if she pushed too far… If he were to lash out, one swipe of his clawed, inhuman hand would kill her.

The curse has softened her over time- has taught her how to feel again. She, as a cat, is more human now than she ever had been as a human woman. He, on the other hand, has become more animalistic. He relies on little more than instinct. Self preservation is at the top of the list.

Two paws press against the thick black fur of his shoulder. “Obi, you’re beginning to lose yourself to this curse,” she pleads. 

He growls, wrinkling up his muzzle to bare his teeth but she holds his gaze firmly, ignoring his warning. “What’s your problem today? Can’t you just leave me alone for an hour or so?”  

He slows his breathing and quiets himself, an echo of the training he once utilized as the lethal shadow of an assassin he used to be. He hasn’t lost all of himself. He won’t hurt her, not yet anyway... but he can bluff.

Torou tilts her head, pensive and observant. She sits unmoving for an extended minute before breaking his gaze to look at the path ahead as her features melt into sorrow and regret. “I don’t want to be a cat forever.” 

A harsh laugh, bordering on condescending, rips out of him. He hates this. He hates how bitter and angry he has become but he is powerless to stop it. Hope had grown weary and fled from him years ago. Now, they have less than a year to find a way to fix it before they spend the rest of their days imprisoned in a hell more torturous than the fire and brimstone promised to the sinners they once were. 

“More importantly, Obi,” she continues, turning her piercing eyes back on him. “I don’t want to see you lose yourself entirely. I miss you. I want my little brother back.”

Light pierces through the blackness, clarity cutting through the pitch black storm  in his mind. His heart squeezes painfully before softening.  If he were to be honest with himself, he misses her too when he is adrift on the surging sea of base compulsions. Before he can respond in anything resembling affection, a raven crows and a wolf bellows off in the distance. 

The moment is shattered. 

The wispy tendrils of his humanity pull back as the werewolf inside regains control of its rightful body, spurred on by the promise of a real dinner. A wolf or two could feed them well for a few weeks. It is a much better haul than the usual rabbit or bird one of them can scrounge up on a hunt. 

The roar of the wind in his ears carries the whisper of Torou’s despairing sigh but he is already gone, racing toward the promise of a full belly. Behind him, tree branches resume their clatter as she follows 

He reaches an open clearing by himself, Torou’s short legs having been outpaced by his full strides within seconds of his departure. All the better, really. In her softened state, she has a distasteful tendency toward concern when he takes on other predatory animals. That’s stress he doesn’t need when concerned with pesky little details like feeding them both. His mouth waters.

Two wolves circle around a lumpy mass of blankets on the ground as they sniff, their frothing teeth snapping in anticipation of a hearty meal. He knows the feeling. 

If they could smell him, they’d already be defending their dinner.  If they had sensed a presence that would prove an immediate danger to both of them, they’d have fled. The have done neither.  They remain unaware of his intrusion, lost as they are in whatever it is in that pile of cloth.

He tucks himself into the tree line, pulling the abundant shadows against him. He centers his weight, legs drawing him lower to the ground as the muscles coil tight- springs ready to launch into action. True to the killer he was as a human, he waits for his shot. 

After a moment of silent study, one wolf wanders too close to the other.  Both predators face away from him, a circumstance that wouldn’t be problematic for them if he wasn’t there. But they aren’t the apex predator of this forest today. He is. 

In a flurry of movement, his limbs carrying him so much faster than he ever could as a simple man, he is upon them, never giving them the chance to look up. He flings one into a tree several feet away and the snap of bones breaking reverberates through the clearing. With his powerful jaws, he clamps down on the soft underside of the remaining wolf’s neck. He holds it steady six feet off the ground with both hands and waits. 

Slowly, the life drains from the pitiful beast as it suffocates under a crushed throat. A magnificent creature, feared by many, reduced to something as easy to target as the game it usually hunts. The thrashing stops and blood leaks down his jaw in a steady flow that pools on the wet forest floor. 

“Good catch, Obi,” Torou praises. “What’s that,” she asks, nodding toward the pile of blankets.

Obi drops the corpse and moves to the perimeter to check the broken wolf for any sign of life. There’s none. “More dinner, I guess,” he mutters as he piles the wolf carcasses across his broad shoulders. He ambles over to where Torou is sniffing at the mound. Holding the dinner splayed over the top of his back in place with one hand, he reaches down and yanks back the thick sheet of fabric. 

A slender frame in tattered clothing is exposed as a shock of red hair spills across the ground. A rattling breath of a groan escapes the unconscious woman but she gives no other sign of consciousness. 

One of her shoulders is exposed by a missing section of cloth and a gash mars the pale flesh there. A nasty bruise blooms an angry purple at her temple. Lucky for her, the rest of damage appears to just be rips in her clothes.

“Obi,” Torou breathes next to him, awed and heartbroken. Their time as animals really has softened her. 

“Well, that’s definitely not dinner,” he states, flat and distant. “Let’s go.” He turns on the ball of his foot, expecting that to be the final say in the matter, and begins the trek home.

“Obi.”

He groans and turns back. He should have known Torou better than to think she’d let him have the last say. “What, Torou?” He’s exasperated and hungry. Today has taken so much out of what little emotional capacity he has managed to retain. He can’t do this now. He just can’t.

“We can’t leave her.” Torou is firm in her conviction, leaving him no room to argue. But what happens when you corner an animal? They come out fighting. 

And he does just that, digging his heels in and gritting out a sharp “and what do you propose I do with her, huh? Carry her bridal style into the nearest town and pray to gods that don’t exist that the people there will feel charitable enough to not kill me on sight? Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“We take her home with us,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Anger burns through him, hotter than the breeze-less, humid summer air cooking him under his thick coat of fur. “Absolutely not. Where would we keep her? What would we feed her?”

Torou levels a flat look at him. Sounding bored with his lackluster arguments, she counters, "She's a woman, not a pet. We have plenty of spare rooms and if the wolf meat we now have available isn't good enough for her, you can go fetch a rabbit or some peafowl."

"Not happening." He turns his back on his feline companion again. 

“What if she is our only chance to break the curse,” she asks. She's quiet, pensive and hopeless.  

Stupid. He knows better than to present an easy target to someone as lethal as Torou and there it is. The knife in his back. He knows she has always hated being caught up in his curse. It’s his fault she’s stuck as a cat. If anyone deserves to be a human again, it’s Torou. For once in her life, she is the innocent caught in the middle.

But, still.

He can't help but push back against her reasoning. He's trapped and hurting, too, and self-preservation is one hell of a motivator. He prefers damnation over a chance of soul-crushing failure, so Obi scoffs, rolling his eyes to add an emphasis as he rotates at his chest to look at Torou . “Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

"Do you remember what the witch said?" She hasn't budged from the woman's side, determined to make him see reason.

"My name. Many, many times over," he jokes with no humor. He is pointedly ignoring the unconscious woman's body. He is. He’s not watching the shallow but steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. He’s not watching the the way her breath moves her hair almost imperceptibly. 

"Cute. Very cute," she drawls. "I meant what she said when she cursed you… and me by proximity. Not what she said before you found out you had buried yourself too deep in a woman you should have left alone."

"I wonder," he snaps sardonically, wielding his once-favorite enigmatic retort as lethally as the knives he misses so much. 

"She said you needed to let others in. The reason we are cursed is because she loved you and you pushed her away."

Obi is a master at hiding his emotions but his wince at her words is unstoppable. His fault in Torou's inclusion in the curse laid bare in front of him is more painful than any punishment ever dealt to him by former employers.

They were friends when it had happened. They both kept each other an arm's length away but it was miles closer than either had let anyone else get. It was that bond, however frail it had been back then, that had marked her as cursed when the spell was woven. 

They are much closer now but getting closer to each other isn't a condition of breaking the curse. It is Obi, specifically, who needs to learn to let others in, not Torou, who, for all her bristling, seems ready to take that leap. Heaven and stars above know she's been talking about it for a couple years now. 

Perhaps that's why the burden is his and his alone. Perhaps the witch had seen something in Torou that told her Torou would be the one to break the curse easier. Perhaps his friend actually had let him in all those years ago and that was what spared her. 

Or, perhaps it's as simple as he just scorned the wrong woman and Torou was nothing more than the primary perceived threat. 

"Obi," Torou says, lancing through the clouds of long thought hanging dismally over his head. "This is our chance."

She's right; he knows she is and he sighs, resigned to whatever fate may come of this. He walks over to where the woman lies and bends down to get a better look at her. Using one claw, he tucks her hair behind her ear making sure to not scratch her or touch the bruise. 

"Fine. You win," he says as he studies her. She's beautiful. Soft features marking her as just passed the age of majority but likely not yet even twenty. The eye he had uncovered by moving her hair peeks open, revealing brilliant emerald green and she fixates on Torou. 

Obi sucks in a breath, unnoticed by the questionably coherent woman, but Torou purrs and gently rubs her head against the woman’s cheek. She must take it as a sign that they are -well, at least the cat is- friend, not foe because she never looks away from Torou.

 A cooling burst of relief washes over him as the woman slips back into unconsciousness. That at least makes it easier to haul her back to the manor without incident. They’d have a hard time explaining a talking cat and a more-or-less friendly werewolf if she were to wake. 

He adjusts the wolves unceremoniously onto one shoulder before bending to scoop her up. He’s gentle with her. If that bruise on her head goes deeper than skin, too much jostling could hurt her more. When he finally comes to his full height, he takes the time to secure her head against his chest. 

Maybe he hasn’t lost his humanity just yet. But, then again... 

She's impossibly tiny in his arms, like a small child being held by an adult. Her pale skin clashes against the thick, matted black fur on his arms and he is reminded of what a true nightmare he is. It's a reminder he doesn’t need in that moment but there's little to be done for it. 

“I hope you’re happy,” he whispers to the smug looking cat on the ground. He steps over her easily as he makes his way out of the clearing.

"I am, thank you," Torou affirms, needing to lope beside him to keep up as they begin the journey home.  

There's nothing to like about this. No good can possibly come of it except maybe getting Torou off his back for a while... and that’s a big maybe.

The best case scenario is this mystery woman accepts the help and leaves as soon as she's able. Worst case scenario is he becomes a waking nightmare and constant source of fear for her. 

Obi looks skyward, sending a prayer to ‘those gods that don’t exist’ in hopes that she isn't traumatized by his existence. That's not a burden he cares to have on his soul. There are already so many.

"Don't thank me yet," he says, faking a laugh for Torou's benefit. From the look she gives him, she didn’t buy it. "You're the one who is going to be in charge of feeding her."

Torou's responding laugh as she launches herself into the trees turns his blood to ice. It's not cold, per se, but it is definitely conspiratorial.  

"Oh, sweet Obi,” she purrs, voice growing distant as she races ahead. “That's impossible. I’m not the one who still has opposable thumbs." 

Her laughter recedes, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the unearthly stillness that befalls a forest when danger stalks nearby. 

[rebornghostgirl]

Character Sheet!

Basics FULL NAME. Athena Tesla Scott

PRONUNCIATION. Uh-the-na

NICKNAME. Nutjob, thena, crazy science girl

GENDER. Cis female HEIGHT. 5'5

AGE. 14 when she died, but has grown to 19... Her body accommodates from a 14 year to a 19 year old body as well as mentality. Making the character appropriately 18+.

ZODIAC. Aries SPOKEN LANGUAGES. English, High school German, Bits and bytes, Gaelic.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 ! HAIR COLOR. White EYE COLOR. Both are silver eyes... Dark brown in life

SKIN TONE. In ghostly form she's a very darkish blue. If she tries to seem more lifelike she's a chocolate skinned black girl. BODY TYPE. Very thin and pettite, she forgets to eat and is in her lab reading to really have some weight.

ACCENT. Oof, she has a british/Scottish accent that mixes in with a southern one. VOICE. An alto. Often sounding bubbly and cute. Shaky at times, but when she yells she sounds more stern.

DOMINANT HAND. Ambidextrous at birth. POSTURE. Hunched over something always. A book, computer, invention, most of the time you'll always see her back till she turns to you and pops it. Other than that she stands up in a relaxed posture.

SCARS. She has scars on her hands and fingers from hurting herself with her science experiments. Her thighs have slashes from a related experiment. She has a stabbing mark in her back from the betrayal of someone she thought was her friend. She has scars that look like lightning covering her body starting from her left arm and coarsed it's way to her left shoulder and torso. All scars are covered by her attire minus the hands.

She doesn't like to talk about them.

TATTOOS. None BIRTHMARKS. None MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Her white short hair as well as her eyes are one. She also sparks from her body when she emotes and it changes color for each mood. She can have multiple colors for mixed feelings. Red for angry, orange for hunger, yellow for happiness, green for sick, blue for sadness, indigo for tiredness, purple for thinking, white for excited, black for fear, pink for lovesick. When she's neutral she emits gray and teal sparks.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 ! PLACE OF BIRTH. In the basement of a university science lab. HOMETOWN. London

BIRTH WEIGHT. 6pounds, 8 ounces BIRTH HEIGHT. 16 inches

MANNER OF BIRTH. Natural, mother had help from medical students.

FIRST WORDS. Safety glasses on...

SIBLINGS. Aries and her dog pallas which she considers a sister. Adoptive brother Timmy whom she adores.

PARENTS. Dr. Zeus Washington Carver and Dr. Metis Curie (Yes my greek mythology fans or/and science history buffs you are sensing a pattern with the names here)

Adoptive parents are Sen. George and Madame Maddie Scott

Beauregard Ghast: the Ghost Host

PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. Dr. Zeus is a power hungry mad biochem scientist hell bent on world domination. He believes that since the world is burning up that he shall be its savior; unfortunately thaat plan involves killing millions of innocent people.

Dr. Metis was a fresh biochem graduate and fell in love with him before she knew of his evil tendencies. She got pregnant and had twins: Athena and Ares. Zeus was angry and lashed out at her at the news imploring she gets rid of them, but Metis wanted them and when they where born Zeus forged her signature to give up the babies and she dissapeared without a trace. Its unknown where is she today.

Ares grew up in a abusive orphanage while Athena was adopted into a life of luxury. But it didn't made her happy. Her adoptive father and mother was neglectful to her and her little bro, Timmy. George really just wanted the people of colors' votes.

In death Athena found the haunted mansion after seeing a Disney ad. Where she found Beau and he has became her adoptive father who loves and respects her. She loves him dearly.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 ! OCCUPATION. College student, bio major...

CURRENT RESIDENCE. Gracey Manor, aka The Haunted Mansion. She uses her portal gun to attend Monster's university. (She goes there because she can *blows raspberry*)

CLOSE FRIENDS. Ares (recently they used to be enemies), Pallas, Drossy (kind of, she has a feeling she doesn't like her), Caitlin: the butler of the mansion(low key calls them mom),

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Single

FINANCIAL STATUS. I could write she's a ghost she don't need money but nah... Right now she has 3 dollars and is in thousands of dollars in debt. Thanks college!

DRIVER’S LICENSE. Apparently she does have a licence for every vehicle you can think of. But she drives wild and has a lead foot.

CRIMINAL RECORD. None, but her science antics has caught the attention of the FBI numerous times, unbeknownst to anyone. I mean the girl went to space numerous times. Secretly, she steals alcohol from the cellar...

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ! SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Pan ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. Pan

EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch

LIBIDO. High. Really high. I mean... To the moon high...

TURN ONS. Sensitivity, hugs, impressing her with extensive knowledge. Telling her that she's yours and yours alone, Role playing that she's your slave with safety words. (Trying to keep it kinda pg), Any roleplaying with safety words, exploding stuff in a lab. Finding a new piece of scientific knowledge. Mutual pleasure

TURN OFFS. Lies, breaking a promise, not making sure she's all right with anything, the partner isn't having any fun, hurting her sensitive areas. Mentioning her scars.

LOVE LANGUAGE. Introverted and shy, she's not an easy one to get close to. She has walls and barriers around herself, but once she trusts you and has fallen in love. She loves you to death and will protect you fiercely. She makes sure you're all right before herself, even if its not good for her. She's very cuddly and will hug, kiss, and cuddle you as much as you want. She does want your attention though and will squeeze her way near you to get it. She's a little yandere-ish but not psycho and will give you some space. But its the obsessive clingy behavior that makes her in the catagory. Tootie from the fairly odd parents is the best example.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. She's a little yandere-ish to everyone she loves so she always wants to spend time with them and will over protect them. This is due to her neglectful parents emotionally abusing Timmy and especially, the death of Pallas. But she can be reasoned with and she will try to control her anxiety. She apologizes constantly and doesnt want to harm anyone so she makes sure everyone is alright. Other times She's a little distant but only cause she thinks you need space.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 ! CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. 'Lucky Orb ft. Hatsune Miku' or 'Contact by Daft Punk' couldn't pick

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. In the lab doing science s***, or in her room doing homework. Or She's all over the mansion exploring, taking samples, trying to figure out that interdimentional staircase, in the pool. Gazing at the organist from afar. Playing with Pallas. Riding her motorcycle. Binge eating food, scowling Ebay for Hatsune Miku figures and stuff. And then passing out, sleeping for hours after doing all of that for 2 days straight.

MENTAL ILLNESSES. Depression and anxiety.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. None

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: Left brained. But does lean a little to the right.

PHOBIAS. Insectiphobia and Arachniphobia... Just all bugs... Fears that her loved ones will get hurt by her hands or by something else she could've protected them from. Fears that She's useless and crazy.

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. Off and on. Some cases she knows something is going to work and is proud. Other cases she thinks she's going to fail and that she'll get yelled at again. She's working on it though. Learning how to fail, why its ok to make mistakes, that betrayal isn't the end of the world. That yes bad things happen but good things will too.

VULNERABILITIES. Physically: Her sparks can give her location even when invisble. She hasn't figured out how to control them yet. They can also catch something else on fire and electrocute somebody else. If its bad you can smell her burning.

Weak knees... Go for her legs.

Emotionally: Go for the guilt trip. She can easily be made to think something is her fault. She can also be manipulated into thinking 'rationally' and may end up doing a henious act when she thought she was doing good. Easily pressured to do anything you want especially if it will 'help' people.

TAGGED BY: @asktheghosthost

I tag @unto-myself-together @aliypop @r0bofactory @inkandfeatherdusters @catinabag @ask-the-hatbox-ghost

And anyone who wants to to it.

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 8 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 8 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link the previous chapters.This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.

Summary: Courtney tries to come to terms with her feelings, while Bianca suffers from the blues.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

“Good morning!” Kim sings, as Courtney walks into the kitchen. “Didja sleep well, sis?”

Courtney grabs the tea kettle from the stove to pour herself a cup.

“Not especially.”

“Sorry, love.” Kim holds out a plate with toast and jam. “And I’m sorry for giving you shit last night. You’re just so much fun to tease.”

Courtney sighs, leaning back against the fridge and taking a slice.

“It’s alright. You were...less off base than I let on.”

“I know,” Kim smirks.

“Cunt,” Courtney laughs, mouth full.

Kim finishes her juice and sets the glass in the sink.

“Runs in the family. Are you sure it’s still cool that I take your car?” Kim asks.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I can uber to work; it’s not far.”

“Awesome. I’ll be back Sunday, then,” Kim says, grabbing the keys, her purse and a small rolling suitcase. “In the meantime, if you feel like inviting any sexy Latina women over, you know…”

“Get out of here!” Courtney exclaims, laughing, shoving her towards the door.

***

Courtney groans in frustration, tossing her phone over onto her heap of clothes in the corner.

“That little twat isn’t bothering you again, is she?” Bianca asks her. “Turn.”

Courtney obeys, answering, “No. I think you scared her away for good. Thank god.”

“Excellent. So what’s the problem?” She unzips Courtney’s dress, taking it over to the sewing machine to make the alterations.

“Well...I’m trying to find some...uh...company, for tonight, and none of my regulars are available, and the idea of prowling around a bar is just not very appealing.”

Bianca opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Adore opening the door to the trailer, asking, “is Gary still in here?”

“No, he's in makeup,” Bianca says.

“Cool.”

She starts to leave but Courtney calls out, “Wait!”

“Yes?” Adore turns back around as Courtney runs to the door, arms over her bare chest. “Nice panties.”

“Are you still dating that DJ?” Courtney asks Adore quietly. Bianca slows down the sewing, pretending not to listen in.

“No, why?” Adore responds.

Courtney gives her puppy eyes.

“Oh.” Adore grins. “DTF, huh?”

“Yes please.”

“Can we go in your hot tub?” Adore bargains.

“Whatever gets you in the mood, peaches.” Courtney flutters her lashes.

“You know,” Adore laughs, “You're my most generous booty call.”

Courtney sticks her tongue out as Adore lets the screen door fall closed, backing down the steps.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Delano!”

“Later bitch!”

Courtney walks back over to perch on the stool while Bianca keeps sewing.

“Wow,” Bianca says under her breath, turning the dress over to examine the seams.

“What?”

“Just...that was very...uh...direct.”

“Welcome to friends with benefits,” Courtney laughs.

Bianca shakes her head. “You’re out of control.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just mean...like, you are constantly coming here with stories about all these different girls. You’re definitely pulling more tail than the brosin Jared’s office.”

“Well, sure, I would hope so, because I’m guessing by your tone that that’s quite a low bar to clear.”

Bianca laughs uncomfortably.

“And anyway, I think you have a very warped perspective about what life is like for a single person. You said you’ve been with your husband since you were what, 18?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you havenoidea what it’s like to have to chase downother human beings to sleep with. It is fucking exhausting. I will bet you anything that you have more than double the amount of sex as me. Maybe triple.”

“Not a chance!”

“Well, why don’t we do the math?”

“Sure...” Bianca agrees.

“Okay, so, how often do you and Jared have sex? Roughly, how many time a week?”

“Uhhh...I dunno, maybe... four? Five?”

“Four or five?!”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s...holy shit. Cheers, Jared.” Courtney shakes her head.

Bianca giggles, slightly self-conscious.

“Alright, well, let me break down my wild and crazy single person sex life for you. I go out once or twice a week. I bring someone home with me...maybe 1 in 3 of those times, if I’m lucky. So I’m fucking another human maybe twice a month? Four times, tops. The rest of the time, I take care of my own business, with help from some very top of the line vibrators.”

Bianca closes her eyes.

“Is there anything you don’t feel the need to share?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

“Anyway...I assume with your Ivy League education that you’re following the math here.”

“Wow.” Bianca looks at her. “I guess so.”

“Really, four or five?” Courtney shakes her head in amazement.

“Well...we aretrying to have a baby,” Bianca says.

“Okay, but that only explains a few days a month.”

“Right, but Jared’s philosophy is that ovulation days are Game Days, and the rest of the month is like, practice, keeping in good form, so we’re in peak condition for Game Day.” Bianca says all of this matter-of-factly, with a slightly amused tone, clearly not buying it 100%, but pretending to. She removes the dress from the machine, clipping a few loose threads and handing it back over.

“Ahh, I see. What about your period?” Courtney slips the dress over her head and turns around so that Bianca can zip her up.

“Off season.”

Courtney laughs.

“Well, B, this sounds like a winning formula. I wish you guys lots of success for getting those swimmers past the goal line, into the...hoop? I don’t really do sports metaphors, sorry.”

“Thanks anyway,” Bianca says, helping her into her jacket, chuckling.

***

“Holy shit,” Adore pants, sprawled out on her back. “What the fuck got into you?”

“I’m sorry,” Courtney says. “I didn’t mean to get so aggressive.” She rolls over, propping her head up with a pillow.

“I mean, I didn’t realize we were having a competition, but you definitely won. I think I’m gonna have bruises tomorrow, though.

“You’re so dramatic. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Ummm, tell that to my poor battered pussy,” Adore counters.

Courtney rolls her eyes. “Then why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“Well...I liked it.” Adore flashes an impish grin and Courtney laughs, nudging her affectionately with her foot.

“You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah. So...what’s your problem? Why all the pent-up rage?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe...I guess I kind of got into it with Kimmy last night.” Courtney examines her nails.

“About?”

“She was kind of giving me shit about Bianca. And I got all defensive because, you know, I just...I don’t see it ever happening.”

“I dunno about that,” Adore says, chuckling.

“But Adore, be realistic. I mean, she’s married, and she wants a family, with her husband, and...you know, it is what it is. But god, she’s so hot, I can’t stand it sometimes…”

“I don’t understand you, this is totally your wheelhouse. Just be like,” Adore puts on an exaggerated Australian accent, “Hello Bianca, are ya keen? Care for a root? Cause I’d really like to fuck your brains out, how’s that? Oh these? Just my tits, I thought I’d have them out today. So are we on?”

“Would you please stop, I don’t sound like that. You sound like the crocodile hunter imitating Ja’mie or something.”

“Well, you could learn a lot from Ja’mie. She’s got more balls than you.”

Courtney sighs, closing her eyes and smiling dreamily. “She’s just so beautiful. Have you ever seen anyone that beautiful?”

“Well, yeah, I have a mirror, so…” Adore tongue pops.

Courtney rolls her eyes.

“I’m kidding,” Adore says. “And I guess she’s cute...in that like, grown-up Bratz doll, painted, uber-femme kinda way. She’s definitely got great tits.”

“Grown up Bratz doll,” Courtney repeats, chuckling, then says, “You know who she reminds me of? Remember in The Little Mermaid, that scene when-”

“My favorite movie, go on-”

“When Ursula turns into that like, sexy girl, and tries to steal Eric from Ariel?” Courtney raises her eyebrows.

“Omigod. Vanessa.” Adore begins to laugh.

“Yes! Vanessa! Blue eyes, dark hair, that evil glint in her eye…”

“She is a little bit evil. I’ve noticed that too,” Adore nods.

“No! Not evil, but, like...impish. Mischievous. And those cute dimples. And that body…Ughhhhh!”

“Girl, you need a cold shower.”

“I need a lobotomy.”

“Or that,” Adore agrees. “You know what I wonder...What’s the husband like?”

Courtney shrugs, eyes slightly unfocused.

“I’ve never met him.”

“Well, okay, but I’m sure you stalked her social media. You must know what he looks like…”

“I mean, of course…” She hugs a pillow to her chest.

“...And?”

“And what?”

Adore cups her hands around her mouth and speaks loudly through them.

“What does he look like?”

“I...I dunno. He’s...like, if you went to the husband factory and ordered the Ivy League model with a cheekbone upgrade, he’s what would pop out of the machine. He’s basically a Ken doll.”

“Hmm. So she’s got a type,” Adore muses thoughtfully.

Courtney raises the pillow and smacks Adore in the face, making her shriek with laughter.

***

Bianca looks up from her sewing machine. “So how was your night?”

“Pretty good,” Courtney says, perched on the stool, swinging her legs.

Bianca raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, looking back down.

“What?”

“No, nothing. I’m just bracing myself.”

“Bracing yourself for what?”

“Details about your little rendez-vous.”

Courtney smirks, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Oh, so you want details, eh? Didn’t realize you were so thirsty for smut-”

“No, I didn’t say I wanteddetails, but that’s never stopped you before,” Bianca replies with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Well...” Courtney begins, then pauses.

Bianca looks up, soft blue eyes meeting Courtney’s green ones. She can feel her heart begin to race, her abdomen tightening.

“Yeah?”

“...I don’t want to torture you,” Courtney continues, “So, I’ll just let you imagine this one.”

Bianca exhales, forcing a scoff.

“Oh...shut up.”

Courtney giggles, twirling on the stool, feeling a slight release of the tension that had been building up over the last few days. She exhales, letting her head fall backwards, enjoying the dizziness that comes over her as she spins, not unlike the feeling of being on a dance floor after your second or third cocktail.

“I do have one question.”

Bianca’s voice brings her back to the moment and she puts a foot down to stop the stool.

“Yes?” she asks, with a coy flutter of her lashes.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not a sex question.”

“Oh.”

“Just like...the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.” Bianca pauses, then continues carefully, “I just...always thought that was a thing guys made up so that they didn’t have to commit. What exactly are you getting out of that?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No. You’re good friends, so you obviously get along. And you sleep together. Why not just date? What am I missing?”

“You can like someone, and enjoy sleeping with them, and still know that they aren’t the right romantic match for you. I love Adore. I mean, you know her, she’s fun, and we totally get along, but…it takes a lot for me to want to be in a relationship. I’d much rather be independent than try to force something with someone that isn’t right for me. And with Adore...there’s not that fire, that...you know?”

Bianca listens, wondering how anyone could be with Courtney and not have fire. She’s nothing butfire.

“I mean it’s always just been too easy. There’s no burning passion, or...or sense of adventure. It’s just...nice. Which is great, but...that’s it...” Courtney trails off, trying to read the ambiguous expression on Bianca’s face.

“I see.” It’s taking all of Bianca’s mental strength not to imagine exactly the kind of “burning passion” it would take to satisfy her. Nails dig in her hands under the sewing table, willing herself to erase the torrid images flashing through her mind. Back arched, toes curled, mouth open in a desperate moan...

“For either of us!” Courtney continues quickly. “Which is why, you know, we don’t hook up too often. Or, we’ll get lazy and stop looking for the real deal. She agrees with me; we’ve talked about it.”

“Wait, you’ve actually talked about this?” Bianca is snapped out of her fantasies by surprise, caught off guard. “So then it’s more than just sex?”

Courtney looks at her for a moment before answering, suddenly conscious of how very deeply curious she’s been. Almost invested. But she shakes that thought and smiles.

“Well, yeah. She’s not just a trick, she’s my friend. And she agrees. But then, she’s kind of lazier than me so sometimes she’s like ‘sure, right, but on the other hand, who needs epic passion when you’ve got Netflix?’”

Bianca laughs.

“She sounds like Jared. We should fix them up.”

“Now, I’ve know never met him, but something tells me that he wouldn’t be her type,” Courtney replies.

“I dunno, he’s kinda pretty,” Bianca says. “A wig and a wonderbra, she might not know.”

“Well…” Courtney taps her chin thoughtfully. “She does like a strap-on.”

Bianca’s eyes bulge as she gapes at Courtney, lips parted in disbelief.

“What, you thought it was the other way around?” Courtney asks sweetly.

“I...I...shut up!” Bianca finally stammers out.

Courtney winks smugly and then bursts out laughing, immensely proud of herself.

***

“Don’t get me wrong...your dogs are super fucking cool, but I just think it’s a little weird that you always have them at the table with us,” Adore says.

“Why?” Bianca responds. “We let you sit at the table.”

Adore laughs, spitting out some of her roast beef.

“Case in point…”

Courtney bites down on a carrot stick, thoughtfully scratching Sammy behind the ears.

“Hey, are you guys doing anything next Saturday?” she asks.

“Why?” Adore asks suspiciously. “Not another lame west side art gallery opening again...because I toldSasha-“

“No, not that. So...I have this friend-”

“Hard to believe, but go on…” Bianca interrupts.

“Ahem. My dear, dear friend Alexis is hosting this like, cabaret-style performance night at the Rockwell and she asked me to do a few numbers. I was wondering if you guys might want to come. No pressure.”

“You sing?” Bianca asks.

“Mostly for a lark, but yeah.” Courtney chews her lip. “It’s really no big deal. Although, if it helps, the other performers are actual professionals. Frankly, I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing in this line-up except maybe she’s being nice.”

“Maybe she thinks you’ll look good on the posters,” Adore offers.

“Thanks.”

“You’re such a little twat,” Bianca tells her.

“Yeah, well, this is total false modesty. Her voice is fucking awesome. I’ll be there, obviously, and you should come too. Wear something low cut and I’ll buy you a drink.” Adore winks.

“Stop that,” Bianca says. “I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Oh, you are not. Maybe like, a slutty golddigging stepmom.”

“There’s an image,” Courtney laughs.

“Why slutty? Why can’t I be a classy golddigger?”

“My dad’s lazy, so he goes for very whoreish women. It’s kind of the reason my mom kicked him out.”

“Sounds like a real catch.”

“Hey, you picked him...Mommy.” Adore winks again, licking her lips.

“You’re a sick fuck.” Bianca shakes her head.

“I know, right?” Adore grins charmingly, resting her head on Courtney’s shoulder.

“By the way, I’ve seen her dad...I don’t think he’s your cup of tea,” Courtney adds.

“Good to know. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called a golddigger though.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Jared’s mom had it out for me from the beginning. And then, like, we were engaged for almost nine years, and the entire time, she was fighting about this insane pre-nup that she wanted me to sign. Newsflash, Linda: I’m not in this for the beach house on the Cape. I’d actually rather slit my own wrists then spend a summer with your racist garbage friends in Chatham.”

“What a bitch!” Adore exclaims.

“Pretty much,” Bianca shrugs, tapping her French tips on the table. “But, joke’s on her. Because maybe if she wasn’t such an asshole back when we first hooked up, her son wouldn’t have been so gung-ho about marrying me in the first place.” She takes a long sip of her Diet Coke as Adore laughs uproariously.

“You get that Hamptons house, bitch!” Adore cheers, lifting her cup in a toast.

“Cape Cod,” Bianca corrects her.

“Right, whatever...same thing, though, amiright?”

Bianca laughs, nodding.

“Pretty much the same thing.”

“White people suck,” Adore proclaims, then looks at Courtney and adds, “No offense, boo.”

“Full offense, boo,” Bianca says. “This SoulCycle vegan Coachella cunt? She’s so part of the problem.”

“I hate Coachella,” Courtney says simply, staring her down.

“But you love Burning Man,” Adore says, and Bianca bursts out laughing again.

“White people suck,” she concludes. “But joke’s on them. Because even though they hate me, they won’t possibly be able to hate their little brown dimpled grandkids.”

Courtney scrutinizes her carefully, wondering exactly how much pain hides beneath that tough exterior. Bianca looks up and catches her eye, giving her a softer smile than she expects. She returns it happily, waving Sammy’s paw at her with a light giggle.

***

“Hey, so, about Saturday...seriously, no obligation if you’re busy,” Courtney says, sticking her head into Bianca’s trailer after checking out with Jamie.

“Oh. Yeah, no, I’m not busy.”

“Or, like, If you’re not up for it. I know you’ve got other things going on, so-”

“No, that’s…” Bianca waves her hand. “It sounds fun. I’m excited to hear you sing.”

She smiles, flashing her dimples, and Courtney feels a tingle of nervous energy in her belly. It’s been awhile since she’s gotten onstage, and she’s used to that rush of butterflies, but suddenly there’s a whole new level of anxiety. Suddenly, she has this inescapable feeling that no matter how big the crowd is, she’s going to be performing for an audience of one.

***

Bianca follows the waitress into the Rockwell’s performance space, quickly realizing that her reserved seat is with Adore and a bunch of people she’s never seen. And of course, Adore is already looking a little tipsy. Fantastic.

“Heeey Sugar Tits!” Adore slings an arm around her. “You smell good.”

“Wish I could say the same. You do know the drought’s over, right? We can bathe every day now.” Bianca wrinkles her nose.

Shea laughs, flagging the server.

“Okay, New Girl is funny. What’s your name, and what are you drinking?”

“Bianca, and…” she scans the menu quickly. “Uhhh...Ravenswood, I guess?”

“Put it on my tab,” Shea tells the server, then extends her hand to Bianca. “I’m Shea. How do you know our messy little bitch here? Adore, stop groping her, Jesus!”

Adore crosses her arms, pouting.

“Spoilsport.”

“I work with her and Court on Silver Screens,” Bianca laughs, straightening Adore’s hat for her. “And thank you.”

“Ohhh, got it,�� Shea says, suddenly realizing who Bianca is. The breeder. She pinches Sasha’s thigh under the table, and her girlfriend turns around, having been fully engrossed in a pretentious conversation with Naomi at the next table about whether the collection at The Broad was still relevant since they opened the previous year.

After a few rounds of drinks and some shared appetizers, Bianca finds herself warming quite a bit to Courtney’s friends, especially Shea. There’s something about the Chicagoan that reminds her of her friends back home - well, the ones smart enough to get out of Gretna, that is.

The easy camaraderie continues as the lights dim and Alexis, the MC for the evening, steps out. She’s obviously good friends with the girls, since they are on their feet screaming for her, and their enthusiasm is infectious. And well founded, Bianca realizes, once she begins to sing a throaty rendition of Cabaretto get the crowd going.

The next performer is wonderful, a Broadway actress with a fabulous range and impressive resume. Courtney wasn’t lying about the line-up. Bianca is on her fourth glass of wine, feeling uncharacteristically relaxed, when Alexis introduces Courtney, giving the audience a kind of warning.

“If you’ve never seen our next performer...it might be hard to focus on her singing, because...well, you’ll see.” Alexis gestures to some tables in the front. “You folks are in the swooning section, I’m afraid.”

Sasha whistles and Alexis continues, “Please show a lot of love to the stunning, talented, and all around extraordinary...Ms. Courtney Hamilton!”

Bianca claps and cheers along with the group as Courtney steps onto the bright lights of the stage, and that’s when it feels like all the air is sucked out of her lungs. She’s used to the blonde being stunning, in a kind of easy, effortless way - the kind of beauty that’s annoying, because she doesn’t have to try, and so she doesn’t try. But tonight…

The woman standing on stage is the most breathtaking bombshell that Bianca has ever seen. Everything about her is sheer perfection, from the crown of her glossy blonde hair to the tip of her stiletto heel. As she steps forward, nodding her head gratefully at the applause, the high slit of her dress falls away and Alexis winks at someone in the front row of the audience.

“Told ya.”

There’s a gentle chuckle and Adore wolf whistles. Bianca gulps, sending up a silent prayer to get through this evening with her wits about her.

[rosettared]

Lift Me Up

Summary: After watching Chat Noir almost get himself killed once again, Ladybug strongly considers they tell each other the truth - though not before he tells her his plan to cheer her up. A patrol picnic. Simple enough. What could go wrong? In which Adrien gets sick, they get trapped in an elevator, and Master Fu knows what's really in Marinette's heart. Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir, Adrien/Marinette (it’s a love square fic, so naturally all four corners are present)

Chapter 1: Enough is Enough Word Count: 4481 Also read on: AO3 Next Chapter >>

Marinette had a lot on her mind right now, and she wasn’t sure which thought she should address first. Recalling everything that unfolded before her very eyes – watching yet another schoolmate upset over what only Chloé found trivial, watching as she succumbed to Hawk Moth’s tempting offer, watching as she reigned fiery terror upon Paris with her fuelled rage, watching as Chat Noir took yet another hit for her – it was all becoming quite overwhelming for her.

It didn’t quite help that she had a bad week to begin with, and it was a wonder how she had not yet been akumatised herself (Tikki once mentioned that bearing the miraculous gave her the protection from Hawk Moth’s akumas, but surely, he’s sensed her negative emotions before). Alya had been horribly ill with high fever, so she sat by herself through all her classes. Her sewing machine had broken the very minute she wanted to start on a project she had been excited for.  Her workload from school was ridiculous, what more with her responsibilities as class president piling up. Marinette had come running into class one morning with a cup of coffee, and it didn’t take long until she tripped over herself on the school steps (well, Adrien lent her his jacket to wear over her stained shirt, if anything good came out of that).

As Lady Luck herself, it was funny how her luck seemed to be running dry.

She wasn’t laughing.

She watched over the city she fought to protect, swinging her legs as they dangled over the ledge of the rooftop. She was forty minutes early for her joint Friday patrol with Chat tonight, but she couldn’t think at home. The confined pink walls of her bedroom, though she loved them, were not what she wanted to associate with the battles in her brain. Her room was her workspace, where she felt creativity flow from her head to her hands, where she put heart into each of her projects. She needed the fresh air and wide-open space she could only get from over the rooftops of Paris. It reminded her that her decisions may bring consequences to her people, including the people she loved, so she had to think about her actions more carefully.

Today’s akuma, Medusa, was Clara, a girl from Marinette’s art class. Before class had started, she had shown Marinette her art project, which was a near-perfect clay sculpture of herself, from the collarbone up. It had taken her every day since they received their assignment, and she was proud. But when it was Clara’s turn to unveil it to the class, she could only look and gape in sheer horror. Someone had defaced it – it was missing both ears, and there were cracks everywhere. It didn’t take a genius to know who was behind it, and the sight of Chloe and Sabrina high-fiving and snickering was all the proof she needed. Marinette had run after her to cheer her up, but she realised that Hawk Moth got to her first. He had given her elongated snake-like locks, which could turn whoever she wished into solid stone (instead of her eyes, like in the stories Marinette read as a child).

Of all the thoughts that ran in her mind, the most profound one – the one that shouted and nagged for her attention – was the memory of Chat pushing her away and taking her place when one of Medusa’s serpents aimed for her. She had had her guard down, trying to think of a plan with her Lucky Charm (a can of hairspray, go figure), and she somehow missed the ear-piercing cry of “Ladybug, watch out!” from her partner, and before she knew it, her breath was knocked out of her and Chat slowly turned into stone, from where the snake had wrapped itself around his waist. When Medusa threatened to knock him over, and shatter him into a million pieces, the scream that left Marinette’s mouth was shrill and deafening, raw with dread and fear.

She hated this feeling.

That was the sixth time this month. Chat had been taking bullets meant for her, time and time again, and Marinette hated it. She was so sick of watching her partner put himself in danger, which often times made him turn against her. She hated fighting one of her best friends over and over again. Other times, Chat would literally take bullets for her, which was much, much worse. She couldn’t count the number of times in their three years together that she’s watched him die in her arms, watched him untangle from her grasp that had only grown tighter as time passed. If it wasn’t for her restoration spell after each battle, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

She was tired of losing him.

The sound of footsteps hitting the ground broke her reverie, and she quickly wiped away the tears with her wrists. After the battle, she hadn’t spoken a word to the cat, hadn’t even looked at him. She remembered throwing him a hushed “see you later” over her shoulder before swinging home. He had called out to her, but she just had her mind set on getting to the bakery as fast as she could. Usually she would make it a priority to check up on him after battles, but there was only so much a girl could take.

She heard the slow steps he took in her direction, probably hesitant to approach. She straightened her position and kept her eyes on the twinkling city lights, still refusing to turn to him. “Hey,” he offered weakly, breaking the heavy silence between them. When she replied with a disinterested ‘hmm’, she saw from her peripheral that he took it upon himself to take a seat on the roof beside her. She could see that he was fidgeting with his miraculous, which he only did when he was nervous. She had half a mind to ease his thoughts, probably agitated to start the conversation, but she stayed stubborn and kept her mouth shut.

She still had a bone to pick with him.

Eventually, he cleared his throat to get her attention (he already had it, but she didn’t want him to know that yet).

“Some akuma today, huh?” he tried again. Nothing. Her eyes stayed on the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower, not very far from where they sat. He heaved a heavy sigh. “Ladybug, about what happened earlier…” Still nothing from her. She was just going to let him ramble. Another sigh. “Look, I know you’re still mad at me for what I did. I called out your name, but you didn’t hear me, and she almost turned you into a statue! I can’t say I’m sorry for pushing you, but I am sorry I made you worry. I know you would’ve done the same for me. We’re partners, after all, right?” Again, nothing. He was only making things worse. She let him try again. “If there’s anything I could do to make it up to you, just say the word and I’ll do it.”

Marinette closed her eyes and took one deep break in, and held it for four seconds, then slowly let it out for another eight. She repeated the practice one more time, tension calmly leaving her body, before opening her eyes and finally looking his way, offering him a small smile. She noticed how quickly his shoulders dropped and expression softened, ready to hear what she has to say. The anticipation in his eyes almost made her regret not speaking sooner.

Almost.

“Chat, you’re not just a partner to me. You know you’re one of my best friends, right?” she finally spoke.

Maybe it could’ve been how he took in the word ‘friend’, but he was briefly hesitant. Then he returned her smile. “’Course I do.”

“We’ve been saving Paris for, what, three years? We were only fourteen when we got the job. Crazy, huh?”

His smile grew a little more. “Yeah, we were,” he agreed.  “Time sure flies, doesn’t it? Those three years have been rewarding, I have to say.”

She felt her nerves loosen up a bit, but then they quickly tightened again. “And… and you know I trust you with my life, right?”

“And you, mine.”

“Yeah, it’s that.” Marinette took in another deep breath, then scooted closer to him on the ledge. “What you did for me with Medusa… Chat, I can’t thank you enough. You’re brave, and noble, and so, so selfless. I couldn’t ask for a better partner, but… See, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you always trying to protect me. I do, more than you’ll ever know – heck, I’ll do the same for you. You know that.” She was stalling. She had become a master in the art of rambling, if only to take her time to fight back the tears behind her eyes and the lump in her throat.

Luckily, he couldn’t tell, as he simply chuckled and said, “Yes, I do. That’s what partners do. That’s what friends do, right?”

She nodded, still fighting a losing battle. “Yeah, yeah, friends do that. Chat, listen,” she sighed, putting one gloved hand over the other, softly drumming her fingers. It was best to stop beating about the bush and just tell him like it was, tears be darned. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. You almost died today. Medusa threatened to topple you over and let you break if I didn’t hand over my miraculous. I had to face her scaly snakes all by myself, and she almost killed you! Do you know how terrified I was? I mean, I know we’re both scared to face akumas to some extent but come on! She could have ended your life like that!” Marinette snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Chat looked away from her gaze, not wanting to see the fury in her eyes, then she calmed down a little. She was lashing out, and that was only unfair to him. He was only doing his duty, after all. She turned his face to look at her, for she wanted to see the sincerity in the tears that trailed down her mask. He almost missed how she let a tiny sob escape, and his jaw dropped.

“I swear, Chat Noir, I’m not mad at you,” she began, her voice controlled, hoping she could get at least this to him. Chat, however, did not look convinced. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I know you mean well, but I’m tired of having to fight you over and over again, or worse. I almost lost you again today, and I hate that I can’t make you promise it won’t happen anymore, because it will. You and I both know that.”

Chat was quiet for quite some time, longer than Marinette liked, and she waited for him to deny her claim, or defend himself. Say something, she thought. When he didn’t, she sighed again and proceeded. “We protect each other, Kitty. I know I’ve taken blows for you before, but it’s obvious that our counts don’t tally.” She brought up one hand to his face to gently rub her thumb against his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and Marinette felt her insides turn to mush and flow through her body.

“You’ve thrown me off a roof.” The dumb cat dared to give her a cheeky grin. She wanted to smack it right off his pretty face.

“When you were mind-controlled! Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Chat lifted his own hand to hers, and he wrapped his fingers around her own. When he placed a soft kiss on her palm, even through the layers of spandex between them, all of Marinette’s nerves caught on fire, the burn spreading from her neck to the tips of her ears. He then pursed his lips in thought. “You’re the only one who can save the akuma victims. We can’t afford for you to get hurt. I can’t let anything happen to you, Bugaboo.” It was rare that he used that particular nickname in such a situation, but she guessed that was how he tried to lighten the mood. By the direction this conversation was going, he didn’t have much luck there. “If they get to you, there’s not much I can do. I find out where the akuma is, break it free, and then what? I don’t have my own ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ like you, I can’t clean up our messes or purify the akumas, and I know you’re more than capable to save Paris without me. You’re way too important for our missions, so I will gladly put your safety before my own.”

“Even if it’ll cost you your life?”

“Especially if it’ll cost me my life! Better me than you, Ladybug,” his voice strained, and she realised he was holding back just as much as she was. “Besides, you always save me in the end, right? I trust that whatever sacrifice I make, you’ll always find a way to make things right.”

“That’s not the point, Chat. I don’t want to have to fight you anymore. I don’t want to have to save Paris without you, I can’t do it without you. I’ve seen you die in so many ways, and I want it to stop. I just…” her voice faltered, and like the weight of all her week’s troubles taking their toll on her, she finally broke the dam behind her eyes, not caring that she looked more vulnerable than ever to her partner. This was the boy she trusted with every fibre of her being. He deserved to see her like this.

“Just because I can purify akumas, that doesn’t make you expendable,” she added in between desperate sobs. “You are not expendable, Chat, do you hear me? You’re just as important as I am, and I want to be by your side, every step of the way. We’re a team, remember? We fight for Paris together.” Marinette took his hands in her own and squeezed, trying to tell him that every word she spoke was 100% fact. “I don’t need you to fight for me, I need you to fight with me. There’s only so much I can take, so I need you to promise that you’ll be more careful, Chat. I… I-I lo-,” Not yet, she thought. She couldn’t bring herself to say it, not right now. She cleared her throat and tried one more time. “I can’t lose you.”

She saw the way his muscles relaxed, and his shoulders dropped again, and she felt the breath he was slowly letting out through his nose. She welcomed the way he released his hands from her hold, so he could wrap them around her waist and pull her closer to him, flushing at how he pressed a lingering kiss on the top of her head. “Alright. I promise.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Adrien had never been more on edge.

Ever since his talk with Ladybug last week, her words had become his new mantra, playing in his head like a broken radio. ‘Be more careful’, she had said to him. He was bound to find a new akuma victim this week, but by Wednesday, nothing had happened yet. The stillness was unsettling, and Adrien had been on the lookout for any suspicious activity. His enhanced senses as Chat Noir had seeped more into his civilian life as time went on, so that made it all-the-more easy for him. He kept a watchful eye on Chloé, and so far, she hadn’t given anyone more distress than usual, so he supposed that should have eased him a little.

It didn’t.

Something bad was going to happen. He could feel it.

Adrien walked into class that morning, his head reminding him repeatedly to calm down, and was taken aback at the sight of his best friend in the seat next to his own. Nino looked… off. For starters, he was incredibly pallid, his form pale and weak. His eyes drooped behind his thick-framed glasses, and the bags and dark circles underneath were as clear as day. The turn of his body to greet Adrien was sluggish, and his reactions were belated.

Nino was just fine last week, so Adrien tried to recall their past conversations to see what could have made him so sick. He remembered Nino excusing himself from their study sessions to pay Alya a quick visit when she was sick. He and Marinette didn’t think too much of it the first time, awed at how much Nino cared for his girlfriend, to be there in her time of need. Now that he was thinking about it, it baffled him how he didn’t realise that he would leave to see her twice, thrice, several times in that same week. The one time he and Marinette made time to visit Alya themselves, Nino was already there.

He did mention that he was at Alya’s all weekend.

Ah, that explains it, Adrien thought.

“Dude, you look awful,” he told Nino bluntly, skipping their morning handshake routine. Nino didn’t even try to look offended, and instead opted to give him a shrug. “Why did you come? You should be lying on your bed, resting at home.”

Nino sniffled. “No one was at home, and my mom wouldn’t let me stay by myself.”

Adrien knitted his eyebrows. “You’re seventeen.”

“You’ve met my mom.”

That’s true. Touché, Lahiffe. Touché.  

“Go to the nurse’s, then. That’s much better than staying here.”

“No point. I shouldn’t have to miss today’s classes.”

“There’s also no point if you’re gonna be sneezing and coughing in class, either.”

It was astounding how flat and final Nino’s expression was in his sick state, refusing to budge from his spot. There was no talking him out of leaving class.

So be it.

Adrien shook his head, then taking his seat in the front row and placing a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “I’m gonna help you get through this, man. Don’t worry about it. I can reteach everything you might miss, and you can borrow my notes to copy once you get better.” He took out the notebook and pens from his bag, prepared for the day’s lessons. “And I’ll explain the situation to the teachers if they decide to pick on you – if they can’t already tell,” he chuckled quietly.

Nino gave him a reassuring grin, one that barely reached his tired eyes, and plopped his elbow on their desk and opened his palm. There was only one thing that could mean, so Adrien clasped his hand in his and squeezed, telling Nino he was honouring his word (his bro-mise, as he liked to think. Nino left the room when he first told him this). He watched from his peripheral as Nino blew his nose into a tissue, and the class was filling up more, with Mme Bustier walking through the door a sign that she was about to begin today’s lesson (she must have loved their class a whole lot, if teaching them for three years in a row was something to come by).

For the rest of the day, Adrien made sure to give as much aid as he could to his sick best friend. He followed him to the nurse’s office for some much-needed medication, he waited for him all through lunch because Nino was eating more slowly, and he helped him up the stairs because he didn’t exactly have the energy. Nino occasionally insisted that his help wasn’t necessary, but Adrien wasn’t having it.

An hour into their next class, with Adrien diligently jotting down his notes and Nino coughing in the background, all heads turned to see the classroom door being violently swung open by one tardy Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She stumbled to her seat as rushed as the apology she gave their teacher, who was, with everyone else, all too familiar to Marinette’s notorious track record. She had never really been discreet about it. Adrien assumed she ran all the way to school, given how heavy she was panting behind him.

While their teacher wasn’t looking, he turned to smile at his friend in greeting. “Overslept again?” he whispered, a smirk now replacing his grin.

She shook her head, settling down and getting her own tablet out. “Not this time,” she replied, almost proud that she was late for something else for a change. Her eyes then darted to Nino. “What happened to him?”

“Alya. Too many visits,” he chuckled into his fist. “Speaking of, any word from her?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m late. I stopped by her place this morning with some treats from the bakery.” She took out a small green box from her backpack, opened the lid and offered some cream puffs (well, whatever was left) to Adrien, who happily popped one into his mouth. Those were Alya’s favourites, and he knew her parents had made them fresh this morning. “She’s getting better, thank goodness. She’s certainly faring better than Sir Snot McSniffles over there,” she snorted. “If she’s well enough, she’ll even come to school tomorrow. After more than a week of sitting by myself, that’s something to look forward to.”

“Excuse me?” he scoffed in disbelief. “What are Nino and I, then? Gargoyles? Have you not been appreciating our company, Mme Dupain-Cheng?"

She punched his shoulder lightly, only to humour him, and he rubbed where she hit him with a pout. “You know what I mean.

“Some friend you are. You’ve broken my heart.”

She giggled. “Aw, does the poor little rich boy want me to patch it up? Shall I fetch you a band-aid, Adrien?”

He couldn’t help the hopeless smile on his face. He loved hearing his name roll off her tongue.

They were both interrupted by their teacher loudly clearing her throat, like she was as sick as Nino right now, and they both faced forward with their hands on their desks. “Excuse me, Adrien and Marinette, would you like to take over my class?” she put her hands on her hips and eyed them menacingly. He imagined that when the day came to finally face Hawk Moth in person, his evil glare would rival hers. “I will gladly sit aside so you can share what you have to say to the rest of class.”

Adrien didn’t dare look up, only hearing faint sniggers from his classmates. He kept his eyes on his hands, and flatly told their teacher, “No, ma’am.”

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Marinette chimed in, and their teacher resumed to writing on the chalkboard.

Slumping further into his seat and letting out a sigh, Adrien straightened up when he felt a quick, sudden vibration from the pocket of his jeans. He fished out his phone from said pocket to find one new text message: from Marinette, of course.

M: Alya’s been feeling like she’s missing out. She’s just been gone for so long, and I feel bad that I haven’t been visiting her as much as Nino has, so what better than to bring her favourites and fill her in?  

Adrien took no time at all to text her a reply.

A: You’re truly amazing, Marinette. She’s really lucky to have you for a best friend, then.  

She didn’t text back right away, for reasons Adrien couldn’t think of at the top of his head. He wondered if she was just trying to think of the perfect response. He imagined Marinette looking at her phone with such intensity, like if she stared hard enough her text would write itself, and aggressively hitting the keys, her tongue stuck out in that cute little way she did when she was concentrating. That was what he tended to do if he didn’t send a reply in 0.4 seconds. Then his phone lit up.

M: I know, right? Who wouldn’t be? :P

A: lmao can’t argue with that. You gonna see her again after school?

M: Definitely. I asked my parents to save some madeleines when I go visit her again. I might even bring along some video games! You coming with?  

Oh, how tempting that truly was, that Adrien almost said yes.

A: Don’t think so :( You know how it takes my father three business days to pay me any attention.

M: All too well, unfortunately.

A: Don’t you think you’ve fed her enough?

M: Hey, I say that free food and good company are KEY to cheering someone up. You should try it sometime ;)

Something about that last text had him drawn, and he found himself rereading it over and over. Even as the final bell rang, and he and Nino headed straight for the library to study, he was still thinking about it. He couldn’t get it off his mind even as he came home and walked into his bedroom, flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew that he would greatly appreciate being surrounded by his closest friends and talk about life with pizzas in hand. He certainly had to try that out the next time one of his friends needed good cheering up. Had any of them been upset lately?

“You made Ladybug pretty mad,” Plagg pointed out, flying out from underneath his overshirt to land on the mattress. He must have said that one out loud. “Would be nice if you did something for her, I don’t know.”

Adrien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’m sorry, was that what I thought it was? Good, dare I say helpful, advice?” he raised an eyebrow, doubtful. “Ground-breaking. I didn’t know you had it in you, buddy.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” the kwami stated and gave him an indifferent shrug. “You did say you’d do something for her. Better get to it, boy.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. Perhaps he should.

All sorts of ideas to make Ladybug feel better came flooding his brain, and Adrien got out of bed to hurry to his desk. He must have gone too fast, because he felt a sharp pang to the head, suddenly feeling as if the room was spinning, holding the corner of the desk for support. He couldn’t breathe properly, for his nose was slowly getting congested and he started to sniffle. His throat began to clench a little, and he could taste the phlegm at the back of his mouth. He buckled over and brought his hand to his neck as he started to cough out a lung.

Plagg, the little punk, only laughed heartily at his predicament. “Looks like all that time with Nino the Nauseous finally paid off!”

This was not good. This was not good at all. It seemed his gut feeling was right, that something bad was bound to happen, and that something bad did happen – he just didn’t think it would happen to him.

Ladybug’s gonna kill me.

[theynevercalledmejennifer-blog]

Your strong is my weak

I found my way back to writing but it seems I can't really control the outcome. It is pouring out of me uncontrollably, especially in combination with alcohol so it happened what had to happen.

I texted my ex. Drunk, lonely, upset. I did not see it coming, I have not even thought about him on that boozy Sunday which escalated quickly. I danced, I laughed, I ate, I hugged, I played, I sang. But then, you have probably been there too... when you left the stage and the audience is gone, all on your own in the empty but really nice super king size bed, memories hit harder than most of us can handle. They are just there. From zero to 100. Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again.

And I nearly started my next sentence with "and you think..." but no, you don't think. You don't think and you don't estimate the outcome and you don't manipulate and you don't wonder what the reply would be, you just feel. You feel so intensely as if you have been some kind of Snow White chick sleeping in that coffin of glass and suppressed emotions for way too long so that you need to tell that person of desire right now in exact detail how you feel.

(Portentous break)

I was beating myself up the whole next day for it. I couldn't even look at my phone because every time I did it reminded me of what I have done. In my head I was naked ringing the bell walking along the village of my emotions and all the people screamed 'shame' like when that Queen in Game of Thrones got her head shaved for drunk texting her ex too. Infinite looping thoughts: Why have you done this? Why have you texted him when you managed for weeks to stay away, to do your thing, and live your life. Why do you not have the strength to sail through this gracefully? Where is your God damn pride?

But is holding in emotions a sign of pride? Is it really strength? I talked about this with my precious friend Annelie, who is a well know German spiritual blogger and kind of a specialist in relationships and she changed my way to look at this.

It is not a sign of weakness to text someone. Someone you clearly have feelings for. Someone you care about and someone who played a part in your life at one point. It is not a sign of weakness to care. Quite the opposite. It is strong and brave to decide to share your emotions with someone, especially knowing that there won't be a sugar coated, ever so sweet reply that let you fall asleep with a smile. No, you sent the text and there is a massive hole of nothing that is about to swallow you and all you can think is 'I can no longer bear the violence of your silences' but thankfully you are so drunk that you are passing out. Blessed be the booze.

The next morning you wake up and you are full of regrets and above mentioned doubts. But doubt no more, fear no more... the problem is not you, or me, or anyone who speaks from the heart. The problem is society and the fact that in our heads we are still separating 'strong' and 'weak'. What we define as weak is actually strong. And what we define as strong, is the actual weakness within us - if you need to differentiate the way of strong and weak at all.

If I turn this around and remember all the lovely men in my life I could not love back. Have I ever thought 'What a weak man!' When one of them texted me because they missed me? Not once. It made me sad, because I knew someone else was sad because of me. Sometimes it even made me happy because I missed them too and was utterly relieved that he was the brave one opening the door again so I could come back for another ride. Never have I ignored them or made them feel ashamed for their text.

So what to do if you spoke your mind and now feel ashamed or are made to feel ashamed? Try to send love. Try to send love to yourself and also send love their way and you will be surprised what is going to happen within you. After I did exactly that, sending huge amounts of love left, right and centre, I started asking myself what it would be like if we all would start telling each other how we really feel? And I don't mean particularly from lover to lover, or lover to ex lover, I mean all of us, universally spoken.

Why are we beating ourselves up so much when it happens to us? When we spoke our true mind, showed our true self?

Because we have a wrong-headed picture of expressing emotions in general and our personal, romantic emotions in particular. We are forcing ourselves constantly to contain and withhold feelings, pretending that we 'actually do not really care'and I believe that this is the biggest weakness of our society.

In my opinion, all the people who show their emotions openly, no matter what kind of emotion, no matter where and when, are the true strong ones. The brave ones. These are my heroes and not the ones who believe and make others believe that they have to play a role, that being aloof is achieving anything and decide to treat people with anything other than kindness and empathy.

So whatever you did this weekend or whenever in your life, if you drunk texted, if you called, if you've written a letter or sent roses, if you sang a song in front of someone's window or if you simply knocked on their door to check if they still love you too, don't blame yourself, don't blame others. Just take everything as it is. If you feel love, be grateful that you are able to feel love. If you feel sadness, understand where it is coming from. If you feel anger, go ahead and punch them in the face. Okay that was a joke, don't do that.

The trouble with love is, that fear and coldness look the same on the outside but are completely different emotions on the inside. So if one partner is scared shitless because of all the emotions that are suddenly bursting out of their little heart and they think 'Shit, this is getting a bit intense, where is the emergency exit? I am never the lucky one, he or she will leave me anyway so I better play it cool.' So you start being a bit aloof, take some time to text back, be busier than before and although you want to say something stupid like I love you because you just really felt like you actually love that person, you turn your back around and ask for a back stroke. And say nothing. And this is when it happens, this is when the dynamics change. This is how you change them. Because fear is one of the most powerful emotions and unfortunately, contagious. So your fear finds its way straight from your heart into their heart. And this is the downfall. Both of them confused, Black Eyed Peas playing in the back of relationship-head 'where is the love', yes man where is the bloody love? It was just here and now it is not anymore... And it all gets heavy and very very flat like an IPA or one of these weird ciders. If you don't start holding each other there and then, and talk about this odd gut feeling developing in possibly both of your insides, then I guarantee this and put a tenner on it, you both won't last long. You'll be back in single world subito and find yourself online dating.

And yes, Friday night dates are so easy to find, but secretly we are all looking for the cosy morning spoon. The messy hair, morning breath, sleepy eyes and rough voice Sunday morning closeness that covers you like a safety blanket and shuts out the outside world. Someone who wants to share the day. Someone who wants to share you. With you. And all of you, not just the amazing parts that even the people who do not like you at all do like, no I mean the uncomfortable, unpredictable part of you that no one really understands.

I tried to portion myself to make it easier for them to love me. But it did not work. All it does is bringing confusion. To the person by my side, but most importantly to myself. If you are losing yourself in the process of trying to be someone else, it is very hard to row back from this. The current is strong, the tide is high and if you are not reflective and conscious of your surroundings, you end up paddling around until you drown. Drowned in the pool of your lost authenticy. Sad. This sounds so sad because it is so sad.

My friend Rachel said to me the other day, I want you to write about something happy, write about the last time you were crazy happy and it did not have anything to do with a man or a relationship. I have of course several happy moments in my life, many of them in no relation to a member of the male population, but right now, in this state of my life, I can't. I can't write about happiness I felt before because right now I am not feeling it. I feel confusion, love, heartbreak, fear, anger and hope. A weird mix. I need to wait until this phase is over, until I stopped lashing out on instagram for attention as if the 174th selfie would change his mind and make him see me how I wanted him to see me. It is not real anyway. He saw me many times in bed in the morning so that ship has sailed a long time ago... Also, not everything I do is about him. A lot of it is, but not this.

When I started writing, I thought that I was writing for his attention. That I somehow hoped he would find his way to my blog, my written word and take the time to understand me in a way I was not able to show during our relationship. But that is also not true. I am writing for myself. I am writing because of the feeling I have afterwards.

Everything is structured. Everything is a bit more understandable, less painful, less heart wrenching. It creates hope and some sort of happiness within myself. Sad happiness, but happiness. It feels like after a heavy night out where you had too much to drink and you feel shit until this moment where you hug the loo to vomit your soul out, you cry and you swear and call for your mum (who hopefully does not live with you anymore because you are a grown up) and you hate every minute of it but when it is eventually done and all the toxic shit left your body, you are exhausted but relieved. You know it is over, you get yourself up from the floor with that disgusting mix of mascara and tears smeared all over your red face and shower it all off and start fresh. And this is how writing makes me feel.

And this is exactly what I am going to do. Start fresh. With all my emotions ready to burst out of my heart and mouth.

Fasten your seat belts, lovers.

[le-sejour]

Just Like You, Only Sweeter

Words: 1976

Pairing: wouldn’t u like to know jk it’s Thomas Jefferson x Reader with a surprise

World: Modern AU

Warning: Sexy, sexy things in here mhm (not smut tho, but pretty suggestive), also profanity and actual dickbaggery, angst

A/N: Hey hey hey hey hey so on this episode of “shouldn’t be writing this because I have requests to fill but still wrote it anyway” So I’ve been listening to my old music playlist back in 2010-ish? and ya kno how teenagers are w their edgy music and #Relatable lyrics. This fic was the love child of listening to All American Rejects and Fall Out Boy. Points if you can guess which songs inspired these lmao

Thomas groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you peppered kisses down his jaw to his neck. God, you were beautiful. So, so beautiful.

“Who has to know?”

You murmured against his skin as you mounted him, your black-lined eyes half-lidded and the stink of alcohol unmistakably heavy on your breath.

He knew this was just a one-night stand. A rebound. And he was perfectly fine with that. Your ex, Alexander Hamilton, had actually grown a pair big enough to come crawling back to Eliza, the woman he cheated on, leaving you to rot in your head for weeks on end.

You had planned on sulking around your apartment watching Friends reruns and binging on ice cream. Thomas had suggested getting drinks.

“He told me he would make it right with me.” You had sobbed into your multicolored drink, tears smudging your mascara somewhat. Your dark-skinned companion tried not to stare too much, but found that he couldn’t help it. You were mesmerizing even when you looked like a blotchy raccoon. His heart clenched. “He said he envisioned a future with me! A family an-and kids!”

“Hamilton’s an idiot, [F/Name].” He murmured matter-of-factly, instinctively using his thumb to wipe your tears away. He felt her skin jump at the contact. “He had the most scintillating woman in New York City, and he let it go. It’s his loss.”

His breath hitched when you looked up at him through damp lashes, still managing to look enticing despite crying for over three hours. His mind went into overdrive, desperately trying to keep the trickle of feelings at bay.

He watched with controlled interest as you worried your bottom lip, his heart beat pounding loudly in his ears. He can’t allow himself to give in. It was better this way, he chanted in his head like a mantra.

But oh, how her eyes shined iridescent against the dark.

“Would you have done the same, Thomas?” You whispered, leaning into him ever so slightly. His control was hanging by a thread. “Would you have left me like he did?”

He stared into your eyes once more, losing himself in them as he all but gave in to his desires.

“Never.” He whispered, voice strained and thick with want.

You closed the gap between you two, pressing your lips hungrily against his. You needed the friction, the intimacy. You wanted to feel wanted. And when you reached completion late into the night, your head thrown back in bliss as his hands still gripped your hips tightly, you’d like to think you were.

You never saw him around in the weeks following your drunken tryst. It was as if he never existed. He wasn’t in his apartment, or his favorite bar, or the library. You even tried visiting his workplace, but all you got was his secretary telling you he had opted to work from home.

Oh.

The silent walk back to your apartment was filled with sniffling and attempts to choke back your sobs, going through your memories of that night.

Did you say anything wrong? Was the sex bad? He had seemed so eager to bed you, and the morning after was spent lazing around and cuddling his apartment. What did you do? What changed that night after you went home?

You tried to ignore the tightening in your chest as you reached the front steps of your apartment building, but there was only so much you could do to reign in your emotions. Collapsing onto the steps, you sobbed uncontrollably into your hands.

Why is this happening to you? Didn’t Thomas like you? Didn’t Alexander like you? Did anyone like you?

“[F/Name]?”

You looked up from your pathetic, curled position, tears still streaming down your cheeks. Your heart seemed to heal instantly as you recognized those head of curls.

“Thomas.”

Thomas Jefferson was not an emotionally intelligent man.

He was cunning, and crafty, and wise beyond his years. But you’d be damned to think he was, in any way, in complete control of anything that doesn’t involve his head.

After your pity romp, he was a mess. The moment you kissed him had opened the dam that held all the things he felt for you at bay. It flooded out into every kiss, every stroke, every breathy moan he made because of your ministrations. It seeped into everything he touched.

And he was terrified.

He wanted to be with you every second of every day so badly it hurt. He wanted to care for you, support you. Be the reason for your smiles and laughter. The need to be yours never used to be this intense. It was jarring.

So he left.

It was much easier to be your friend. He could occasionally flirt with you without consequence, and you could spill every thought and opinion to him when even Alexander had trouble wheedling it out of you. Nothing was complicated, nothing was at stake. You both worked better that way. It was better that way.

Wasn’t it?

A month had passed, then two, into his self-imposed isolation and he began to doubt himself. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had let himself overthink your situation. But…

God, he was a jackass.

He had left you. You came to him in your hour of need and he took advantage of it. He left you for dead after being so intimate with you. You needed him, you were in pieces. And he left you.

You probably hated him. No, he was sure you hated him. With everything he’s done, he wouldn’t be surprised. He left you after explicitly saying he wouldn’t.

He’s definitely fucked up this time.

Grabbing his jacket, he made his way to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to do, or how to do it, he just knew he needed to make this right somehow.

You nervously picked at the assortment of flowers on your lap, your stomach churning with anticipation and nerves. Of course, you’ve practiced this whole thing plenty of times before. But actually being here, today, was definitely more than you bargained for.

“Hey,” You turned your head to acknowledge the voice, smiling slightly as you see the familiar face of James Madison. “It seems like almost everyone is here.”

The smile on your face was shaky at best, the anxiety in your eyes shining through. “Yeah? That’s-that’s good…”

James smiled at you reassuringly before stepping into the backseat with you. His warm presence enveloped the car, giving you a slight confidence boost. “You’re nervous.”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s normal.” He answered, taking the bouquet from you before you pluck all the petals out. “What’s worrying you?”

“God,” Exhaling, you looked up, tears inexplicably welling in your eyes. “I don’t- This is insane. I never would have thought…”

The man beside you simply nodded in response, letting you have the moment to express yourself.

“Two years ago, I never would have imagined…” You trailed off, fanning your face in an attempt to blink back tears. “He’s everything I’ve hoped for and more, James. I-I’m scared that I’ll wake up and find myself on the front steps of my old apartment again…”

You were seated on a park bench, sun shining like a halo on you, as Thomas watched you laugh. Your hair fluttered gracefully as you threw your head back. He smiled, memorizing every curve and hollow of your face. He reveled in the fact that he was right. You were beautiful through and through.

His hand wandered slyly to your thigh, making you turn to him with an unreadable gaze. He smiled innocently, those pearly whites of his shining unabashedly. You rolled your eyes as your hands found his and laced your fingers together.

How could he have been that lucky?

He leaned over and whispered in your ear, causing you to turn red and shift in your seat. He pulled away to look at you, his eyes darkening with desire. Oh, how he wished to be the friction in those jeans you wore.

You leaned in to press a passionate kiss on his lips, your hands coming up to cradle his cheeks. He pulled you closer by the waist, nibbling on your bottom lip gently before separating.

With the grace of a cat, he pulled you up with him and brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, murmuring how he wanted to get you home and in bed as soon as possible.

How could you have been this lucky?

James led you to the huge cathedral doors, your gown flowing easily around you, while the veil you wore drifted to and fro at every move you made.

“Are you ready, [F/Name]?” You looked up as a fresh pool of tears made its way to your eyes.

“Thank you, Jemmy… For everything.” You whispered, throwing your arms around him in a tight, tearful hug. He returned the hug just as fiercely, your head tucked under his chin.

“I would never leave you alone like that, [F/Name].” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion and an edge you couldn’t describe. “Now go, Mulligan is waiting to walk you down the aisle.”

Nodding, you reluctantly let go of the man you had quickly considered a best friend within the two years you’ve known each other for. Straightening your back, you walked through the cathedral doors, entering the small lobby just before the main hall.

“And [F/Name].” James called out, causing you to turn slightly while Hercules fussed with your gown. “Remember, this is real. It’s real, and you deserve this.”

You beamed at him, watery and emotional, before being led away.

James stared into the cathedral, watching you float down the aisle like a cloud. Your back was turned to him but he could feel the happiness radiating from you as you passed friends and family.

A few seconds later, without as much as a turn of his head, he called out a name that hasn’t crossed his lips for a while now.

“Thomas.”

Without missing a beat, a figure loomed behind the smaller man before taking his place beside him.

“James.”

The Virginian, like his companion, stared straight into the cathedral, watching you finally reach the man who had helped you pick up the pieces. The man he saw making you laugh that day at the park. The lucky bastard who now gets to spend his days with you, build a family with you, grow old with you. All the things Thomas could now only dream about.

“Gilbert will make her happy.” James said, as if hearing the other man’s thoughts. They always did have an unnerving knack for reading the other. Thomas rolled his eyes.

“He has the most scintillating woman in New York City. Of course he’ll make her happy. He’d be an idiot not to…”

The other man said nothing, merely coughing into his handkerchief as silence fell over the pair of them.

“You know why she’s taken such a liking to him, right?”

Thomas opted not to reply, instead choosing to watch you recite your vows. He knew you were beautiful even on a normal day, but today you were simply breathtaking, even from his perch by the large, ornate doors. What he wouldn’t do to be the man standing at the altar with you.

“You left a bad taste in her mouth, Thomas.” They continued to watch the wedding, watched as you exchanged rings, watched as the priest gave people like Thomas a chance to speak. “Gilbert… He’s just like you. Only, sweeter.”

Silence filled the air of the cathedral as they waited for anyone to protest the union.

Thomas finally turned to James, his eyes brimming with tears as a few already trailed down his cheeks.

“I know.”