#i dunno how to describe it but. when youre raised as A Girl you kind of end up spending most of your life learning and practicing ways

[irl-ichi]

this is what love is

[redstringraven]

For Cassia: 3, 8, 11! And for Nyxram: 1, 6, 11!

<:D!! AAAAA thank you so much!

Secret Ask List

-------------------- .: • CASSIA --------------------

3) what song describes your oc?

cassia is one of those ocs where the music i find for her playlist is almost all vibes and not really based on lyrics. it's the energy of the music, the way it makes you wanna move or bob or sing along. that being said: "rage" by hyper crush and "joyride" by kesha immediately make me think of her. lyrically, "i love it" by icona pop might be a good fit.

8) what hobbies does your oc have? what do they do to unwind?

cassia's major hobby is rollerskating! but she's also super into street art, and she enjoys beautifying her favorite areas of new york in a manner of silly or meaningful ways. when she's at home, she also enjoys random doodling--mostly ideas for graffiti or future street art--learning dances from her favorite music videos, and playing a variety of video games.

11) what was your inspiration for your oc?

i distinctly remember driving to my local movie trading company to see if they had any physical dvds for tmnt'03, and "girlfriend" by avril lavigne came on spotify shuffle. for whatever reason, i got the image of a pink-haired girl in rollerskates, and she wouldn't leave my head. cassia's my first tmnt oc, and i think she was always meant to be kind of like april in that she's a grounding presence in their otherwise chaotic lives. despite how high-energy and mischievous she is, she's extremely stable and does regularly go to therapy, which has made her more thoughtful and aware of others along with herself. her biggest conflicts come from being an out trans-girl in the 90s and early 2000s, but none of it is tied to her immediate family (her parents ADORE her). she is, for the most part, about as ''''average'''' a civilian in the tmnt'03 world as you can get. i dunno! i think i kind of just wanted to give them all another anchor of sorts, another safe haven. cassia's parents, oliver and esme, also become guardian figures to the turtles in a sense (especially mikey). esme loves to mother them.

-------------------- .: • NYXRAM ----------------------------

1) does your oc have a voice claim, if so who?

god yes. nyx's voice claim is shohreh aghdashloo. the moment i heard her as enforcer grayson in arcane, i pointed at the screen and muttered: "you". as someone who's very picky about these sorts of things i seriously feel like it was gift-wrapped to me. >xD shohreh also provides the voice for the dragon in damsel, which is a dumb as hell movie but i will continue to listen to it for the sake of hearing her talk.

6) if your oc is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

kind of a weird question, since 'modern day' implies that this is more a difference in time period? e-e;; i imagine she'd likely still have assassin roots, but. after the rebellion succeeds, the republic begins to rebuild, and the games are disbanded, nyxram takes it upon herself to use her family's "estate" as a sanctuary for the animals used in the games, since most of them can't be returned to their natural habitats due to injuries and/or being raised in captivity. so! i think a potential "modern day" or "human" profession for her might be owning and managing something like an old friends senior dogs sanctuary. providing housing, love, and comfort for older animals when most folks want younger pets, and ensuring that their last few years are happy and safe. she's taken so much life, so... it feels like giving back, in a way.

11) what was your inspiration for your oc?

@/plantdonut doesn't live with me (alas), but if she did, i would have turned to her during our '03 rewatch a few years ago and asked, bluntly, "why do all the triceratons gotta be dudes? where're my giant, amazon warrior dinosaurs?". and within a few days, i was practicing my hand at drawing triceratons, so i could make it so. my two major points of inspiration for nyx come from cassandra cain (2nd batgirl, pre-new52) and john wick. cassandra for being... basically born and bred to be the perfect assassin, only to have 'too much' compassion and love and guilt and go hero instead, and john wick for being a 'baba yaga' to anyone who knows his name. not the boogeyman, but the one you send to kill the boogeyman. the idea of a triceraton assassin was very cool to me, given that they're often a straight-forward, loud, and blunt force to face with little concern for being subtle. it also draws an interesting connection to her and the turtles; at some point nyx comments that despite their practice being tied to assassins such as herself, any blood on their hands comes from self-defense. in some ways, she envies them. but in many more, she doesn't. she's the sole survivor of her clutch, and the only one of her siblings to 'earn' a name. she was, in a way, a political move--a gift/tool offered to the prime leader to ensure that her parents had a connection to power and could continue their own work with protection from punishment. ...they just didn't expect for her to want something else. since the triceratons seem to have a handful of 'nods' and aesthetics pointing toward the roman empire, i named nyxram after the greek goddess 'nyx', the personification and substance of night. i also specifically use greek spelling with her, whereas her parents will have roman spelling of their names to further emphasize her 'otherness' from triceraton society as a whole.

[headhedgehog]

Part 2 here

CW: Assault, described after the fact.

“Dad,” Keiko said, her tone cautious. “I was thinking about going out on Friday, would that be okay?”

Kunigami looked up from his laptop, peered at his daughter over his glasses. “I guess? Where’re you going? And with who?”

“A guy from my class asked if I wanted to see a movie.”

“Is this a date?”

“...Maybe.”

“Keiko, you’re 16, you don’t need to be shy about going on dates.” Kunigami closed his laptop and pretended to clean his glasses so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “Who’s the guy?”

Keiko muttered something. Kunigami sighed.

“One more time, and audible, please.”

“Isagi Haru.”

“As in Isagi Yoichi’s son?”

“...yes.”

“Did you ask Daddy?” 

“Dad, c’mon, he’s even weirder about Isagi Yoichi than you are.”

“He can’t be trusted!!”

“You were in high school! It was literally decades ago!”

Kunigami pinched the bridge of his nose. “What about Baro Shoei’s kid? Isn’t he also in your class?”

“Dad, he makes everyone use hand sanitizer before he’ll accept any papers the teacher passes out.”

“Your popcorn would be sanitary!”

“Dad.”

Kunigami sighed. “You really like this Isagi kid?”

Keiko sat next to him on the couch. “He’s really sweet, Dad. I’ve been trying to get him to ask me out all year and he finally noticed. Please?”

Kunigami looked at his daughter, the one person in the whole world he would do literally anything for. She used to call him Papa, when she was little. When did she stop calling him Papa? 

Maybe he could blame it on the Isagi kid if this lasted for very long.

“Okay. But you have to tell Daddy.”

She beamed at him, practically bounced off the couch. “Thank you!!” 

She ran off to her room, leaving Kunigami to stew in how not-little his little girl had become.

—---------------------------------------------------

Friday evening found Kunigami and Chigiri making dinner for themselves as Keiko ran around the house to get ready for her date. Kunigami could see his husband’s ears perk up every time their daughter went between rooms, his jaw set.

“You know Isagi’s son isn’t necessarily like Isagi, right?” Kunigami asked, bumping Chigiri with his hip. “There’s no reason to be so upset.”

“I’m not upset! I just…we haven’t met the kid, makes me nervous.”

“We have met him. Many times, at games and team events. He’s in Keiko’s class, he’s not a stranger.”

“We haven’t met him as a romantic interest for our daughter. Asking him about his third-grade teacher is pretty different from trusting him to be decent alone with Keiko.”

“Hyoma, they’re going to a movie, they aren’t going to be alone.”

“They SAID they’re going to a movie…”

“What, you don’t trust Keiko now?”

“I do! But he’s a teenage boy, and she likes him, so who knows.”

“I think we must’ve had very different high school experiences.”

“I didn’t do anything weird! I just spent a lot of time in locker rooms with guys who did!”

Kunigami shook his head as if to dispel the memories of gross teenage boy conversations he’d overheard in his youth. 

“Hey, when did Keiko stop calling me Papa?”

“What?”

“She calls me Dad now. When did she start doing that?”

“I dunno, it’s been a while I guess. She’s older, it sounds more grown up I guess.”

“She still calls you Daddy!”

Before Chigiri could answer, Keiko practically bounced into the kitchen, ready for her date.

“Look at you!” Chigiri cooed at her. “You look beautiful, Lovebug.” 

“Thanks Daddy.” She kissed Chigiri on the cheek. “He’s here, I’ll be home around midnight!”

“I didn’t hear the doorbell,” Kunigami said, eyebrow raised.

“He texted me. Like five minutes ago, I really need to leave. Love you!”

Kunigami watched her leave, only a little hurt he didn’t get a kiss, too. 

“Who’s upset now?” Chigiri teased, turning back to the stove. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That vein on your forehead does.”

“What kind of degenerate doesn’t come to the door to pick up their date?!”

“I dunno, Ren. They must’ve stopped training boys in chivalry sometime in the last twenty years.”

“I mean it, Hyoma, what, is he avoiding us?”

“Probably. He’s met us, remember?”

“We’re not scary!”

“I’m not. You, my dear, are a giant and he’s taking your daughter on a date.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Later.”

Chigiri giggled and kissed him. 

—------------------------------

Just after 10:30, Kunigami dozed on the couch with Chigiri’s head in his lap. He lazily carded his fingers through Chigiri’s long pink hair, enjoying the quiet. 

Until his phone rang. Almost on instinct, he answered without looking at the caller i.d.

“Hello?” 

“Papa?” Keiko’s voice came through the speaker, scared and shaking. He sat up, suddenly fully awake.

“Keiko? What’s wrong?”

Chigiri was now upright too, very still despite the clear panic in his eyes as he waited for information.

“Papa, can you come get me? Please?”

“Of course, are you still at the movie theater?”

“Yeah.”

“Be there in five minutes. Stay where people can see you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Kunigami was off the couch and halfway to the front door before he heard Chigiri running behind him.

“Ren! What’s going on? Is she okay?”

“I dunno, she was crying and she wants me to come get her.”

“I’m coming with you.” 

They were out the door and down the road before they realized they were still in their slippers.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Keiko was standing under a streetlight in front of the movie theater, arms wrapped tightly around herself. When she saw the car she practically threw herself into the back seat. 

“I’m cold,” she sniffed, curling up around herself as Kunigami steered the car back onto the road. Chigiri turned up the heat. 

“What happened, Lovebug?” Chigiri asked when the girl stopped shivering. Keiko just shook her head. “I’m gonna need at least an idea, sweetheart. Are we taking you home, do you need a doctor…?”

“I wanna go home.” Keiko moved to wipe her face with the heel of her hand, revealing bloody knuckles.

“Your hand is bleeding! Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Kunigami nearly swerved onto the sidewalk. “What did he do to you?” he asked calmly, his voice several tones lower than usual. 

Keiko burst into tears again. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

Kunigami and Chigiri shared a pained glance before Chigiri turned back to their daughter. “Shh, Lovebug. Whatever it is, it’s going to be alright. Let’s just get you home, okay?”

Keiko nodded, still crying and curled in on herself. Kunigami forced himself to watch the road, a horrible mixture of heartbreak and cold fury in his chest.

—------------------------------------------------------------------

Keiko let Kunigami carry her into the house, kept her face buried in his chest. He felt like crying, looking at her with her makeup smudged and her injured hand. 

I’m going to murder that Isagi kid, he thought as he sat Keiko on the edge of the bathtub. Chigiri came in with the first aid kit and handed it to Kunigami before settling next to Keiko on the tub. She put her head on his shoulder and watched Kunigami settle himself on the floor in front of her and gently take her bloodied hand.

“Well, you didn’t break anything,” he said after a moment of carefully bending and flexing her fingers. “Doesn’t seem like your cuts are very deep, either.”

“Good deal,” Chigiri said. He ran a hand over Keiko’s hair, kissed her temple. 

“I’m gonna clean the cuts now, okay? It’ll probably sting a little.”

Keiko nodded and turned to hide her face in the crook of Chigiri’s neck. She whimpered when Kunigami swiped an alcohol pad over her knuckles, again when he dabbed them with antibiotic cream. Chigiri held her tight, the look in his eyes echoing Kunigami’s fear back to him. 

“Okay, all set.” Kunigami sat back and packed up the kit. Chigiri got her to stand up and go to her room to change into pajamas and wipe off her makeup. When she was dressed, she joined them in the living room and curled up on the couch. Chigiri sat on the floor next to her head and reached out to smooth her hair.

“You ready to talk about it, Keiko?” Chigiri asked, his tone far more gentle than Kunigami could’ve managed. Keiko sniffed, wouldn’t look at them.  

“Isagi Haru was acting kind of weird when he picked me up,” she said finally, still looking away. “And when we got to the theater and were waiting in line, I told him I was happy that he’d asked me out. And he got this weird look on his face and said it was a dare from one of his friends.”

“Oh, Keiko,” Chigiri murmured. Kunigami stood and made himself look out the window in an attempt to hide his anger.

“So I told him I would just go home, he could still say he won, whatever. But he said he still wanted to spend time with me, so we bought tickets and went inside. Everything was fine – well, sort of, I mean c’mon – but then he put his arm around me. I didn’t really want him to after everything, so I tried to shrug him off.”

Kunigami felt his heart rate spike, tried to breathe slowly.

“And he said ‘don’t be like that, Keiko, I know you wanted to go out with me,’ and then he kissed me,” Keiko’s breath had become shaky again. Chigiri squeezed her shoulder, looked at Kunigami with a furrowed brow. “And he shoved his tongue in my mouth. I pulled away and said I didn’t want to kiss him, he’d basically admitted he didn’t even want to be there, and he said I was being ridiculous. And he grabbed me by the back of the neck and kissed me again, and he got his hand in my shirt and grabbed my boob. And then I managed to kind of get away and I punched him in the nose. Then I ran away and called Dad.”

“You hit him hard enough to break the skin on your knuckles?” Kunigami asked, voice tinged with pride.

“Yeah. Well, I think I caught his glasses a bit, maybe that’s why.”

“Attagirl.”

Chigiri guided her to sit up and handed her a box of tissues. “I’m so sorry that happened, Keiko. How are you feeling now?”

“Pretty bad. Not excited to see him at school.”

“It’s a scary thing. You know it’s not your fault, right?”

Keiko nodded, but her lip was trembling again. 

“Do you want to keep talking about it? Or can we get you anything?”

“I think I want to go to bed.”

“Okay, Lovebug. We’re here if you need anything, okay?”

Keiko stood and started toward her room, but turned around after a few steps. “Papa, can you come sit with me for a little while? Just til I fall asleep?”

“Of course I can.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Keiko had been asleep for over an hour, but Kunigami was still sitting next to her, back against the wall and feet under the edge of her duvet. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, anyway. 

Judging by the texts still coming to his phone, Chigiri was equally awake.

“Do you think Isagi would know it was us if we kidnapped the little fucker and threw him into the sea?” read the most recent message. Kunigami stifled a laugh.

“We’d probably be pretty high on the list of suspects,” he typed back.

Bzzt. “Should we call Isagi? I mean I’d wanna know if my kid was a sex pest. So I could throw him into the sea.”

“You’re really stuck on the sea thing.”

Bzzt. “It’s a satisfying thought. And cleaner than my first instinct, which was to stomp him into the sidewalk with my cleats.”

“You’re a menace.”

Bzzt. “So is this Haru kid! So are we calling his dad or not.”

“It’s up to Keiko, don’t you think? I don’t want to take her agency away from her. Again.”

Bzzt. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Bzzt. “But what are we gonna say when we see Isagi and he wants to know why his demon came home from a movie date with a broken nose?”

“I don’t think we have to lie. I just don’t want to make decisions about how to handle her assault without her.”

Kunigami swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he typed the words ‘her assault’ about his daughter. He looked at her sleeping form, her face mercifully a bit more relaxed now. In the car, he’d have set the city on fire if it would mean Keiko felt safe. Now it was all he could do to keep from crying about how helpless he felt. He really couldn’t protect her forever. Not even from some punk teenager he could crush with one hand.

Bzzt. “She still sleeping?”

“Yeah. She seems okay for now.”

Bzzt. “You coming to bed?”

Kunigami watched Keiko’s shoulder rise and fall with her breath. He couldn’t fix what happened, but she was safe now. He thought about her waking up and being alone when she remembered why her knuckles were bandaged. 

“Nah, I think I’m gonna camp out here.”

Bzzt. “Figured. Let me know if you wanna swap at some point. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

The Merchandise - Eddie Munson X GN Reader - November 27th

Title: The Merchandise

Eddie Munson X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mom, other family members (Mentioned), and Dustin (Mentioned)

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |

WC: 1,727

Warnings: Embarrassment, slightly insecure Reader, Reader has a mother, slight angst, and overall fluff

Okay, let's get one thing straight. You loved Eddie. That was a given. You loved the way he laughed and smiled at you and every little thing about him. He is so kind, caring, and sweet, that no words could describe the depth of your feelings toward him. But, in the midst of all this lovey-dovey stuff, one particular thought had continued to plague you over the months almost year; you wanted to touch Eddie's hair.

Eddie's hair was majestic. Like a lion's mane, thick and beautiful. Every morning it would gleam and sparkle as if a million tiny stars had shone through it. It was perfect and it fascinated you. You wanted to know if it was as soft as you imagined it was. Of course, you've had your chance to touch it, during the many kisses the two of you shared, but you were respectful. You never touched his hair unless he asked you to. You had seen that he was protective of his hair, not even letting that Henderson kid touch it.

But, as you were trying to do your homework, you just couldn't concentrate. You blamed yourself more than Eddie. Resting your hand on your cheek, you stared at the back of Eddie's head as he sat on the ground in front of your bed. Resting on your stomach, you kicked your feet in the air as you daydreamed about your wonderful boyfriend's hair. Eddie looked up from his work and turned around, noticing how absentminded you appeared. He chuckled under his breath.

"What's got you so distracted?" His brown eyes glistened and sparkled like the sun itself. He was so gorgeous when he smiled. Eddie knew what the answer was, he had caught you gazing at him many times before, but he enjoyed watching your expressions change. 

"I dunno," You mumbled softly, looking away and smiling bashfully, "Probably you."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, a smirk overtaking him. "Of course, I'm irresistible." Eddie teased, making you lean over and push his shoulder. He laughed as he went back to his work and you lay there behind him, playing with the edges of your notebook pages.

"No wonder girls swoon all over you." You joked, Eddie glanced down at you and smirked again.

"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" He teased, putting the book down and turning around so he could face you.

You grinned at him as your cheeks flushed, eyes raking over his features.

"Well, for starters, you’re you. You have long curly locks and amazing skin. You wear awesome clothes and can play the guitar. Plus you're handsome as hell." You said, staring into his brown eyes. Eddie blushed, taking a moment to appreciate your praise. You weren't wrong. He did have a very attractive appearance. "Not to mention, you're passionate, caring, and loving. No matter how much people try to convince you otherwise, you really are an overall amazing person." You sighed dreamily.

"Aw, thanks, babe." Eddie gave you a warm smile, reaching up to caress your cheek with his knuckles. Your face warmed up even more as a smile graced your lips.

"Don't mention it." 

Eddie gently trailed his hand down your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip softly. The pair of you held each other's gaze for a moment, neither one willing to make the first move.

Eventually, Eddie leaned in closer until his lips were only inches away from yours. A sudden knock interrupted the two of you, causing you both to jump away from each other. You felt guilty as Eddie's expression darkened.

"Come in." You called out, still slightly annoyed.

Your mom peeked her head inside, giving you a sympathetic look. "Hi, dear. Sorry to interrupt, but I just finished dinner. It's ready when you two are." She apologized. Before either of you could respond, she shut the door and walked away. Eddie sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Well, guess we should go eat..." He whispered, kissing your forehead quickly before standing and helping you off the bed. 

You nodded, taking his hand in yours, "Yeah, don't want to miss out on my mom's famous spaghetti." Eddie chuckled, squeezing your hand in his.

The two of you made your way downstairs to join everyone else at the table. While Eddie helped set the table, you stayed close by his side, occasionally stealing glances at him as he worked. When he finally noticed the attention you were giving him, he turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" He asked, a playful grin on his face.

"Nothing." You replied, shaking your head.

He rolled his eyes, returning to set the table. Once everything was set, you both took your seats next to each other. Everyone began eating their food, chatting amongst themselves. You listened intently, body eating while your mind was elsewhere, thinking about Eddie's hair. As you thought, you paused. Were you weird? I mean, did other partners in relationships daydream about their partner's hair? You shook your head, clearing your thoughts, and focused your attention back on the conversation.

You tried to focus on listening, but it wasn't working. You kept picturing Eddie's gorgeous hair and you wondered what it would feel like tangled in your fingers as you ran your hands through it. You wanted to touch it so badly.

"Y/N, dear. Did you hear what I was saying?" Your mother called, making you look up at her with wide eyes.

"Um... No, sorry!" You giggled nervously.

She frowned, placing her fork down, "Are you alright? You seem distracted."

Eddie looked at you worriedly, placing his arm around the back of your chair in silent support.

"Sorry! I was just… Thinking about something." You spoke softly, looking down at your plate.

Your mother just hummed, pursing her lips before she continued her story, while you just pushed the noodles around on your plate.

After dinner, Eddie followed you up the stairs and back to your room where he watched you plop onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillows. Eddie bit his lip, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and reaching out to rub your back soothingly. You two sat there in silence for a while until Eddie spoke up, looking down at you as you snuggled deeper into the pillow. 

"Are you alright, baby?" He asked, voice hardly above a whisper, yet you heard him.

"Yeah... No..." You answered back, your voice muffled by the fabric on your face.

"You wanna tell me?" Eddie urged, his fingers rubbing circles into your lower back.

You hesitated for a moment, before slowly sitting up and facing Eddie.

"It's nothing." You smiled sadly, not wanting to upset him.

Eddie frowned, "It can't be nothing if it's making you sad." He answered, watching as your sad smile turned into a frown.

"It's weird, Eddie. You sighed, "I keep getting these crazy urges to touch your hair and-"

Eddie's face lit up with surprise as he listened to you, "You want to touch my hair?" He asked, making you look up at him.

"Yeah. A lot. I'm sorry I'm being weird. I just... Your hair is so beautiful. I think about touching it all the time and whenever I do I get this overwhelming urge to run my hands through it. Just like today. Well, everyday, really." You confessed, unable to look Eddie in the eye.

A bright pink hue crept across Eddie's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "I didn't think you'd want to touch the merchandise that much." He mumbled shyly. 

"I literally had a dream about braiding it." You confessed blatantly.

Eddie looked down at your bed, his fingers running along it as he thought. "Why don't you?" He asked, gaining your attention.

"What?"

"Why don't you braid my hair? Right now?" Eddie repeated, still refusing to look at you. He was embarrassed at the idea of you doing it and he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you. 

"Really?! Are you sure?" You asked excitedly. "I don't want to do anything you don't want me to... Or anything you don't feel comfortable with."

Eddie looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips, "I trust you, Y/N. If you wanna do it, I'll let you."

Your eyes widened, "Okay," You couldn't help a huge smile from appearing on your face. "I promise, you're going to look amazing, honey." You exclaimed, sitting up on your legs, and scooting behind Eddie.

He felt a shiver travel down his spine at your breath fanning against his neck as you moved, and he swallowed nervously. You hesitated shortly before reaching out your hand, slowly running your hand through Eddie's hair. His face lit up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Your heart raced as you ran your hands through the soft curls, Eddie leaning into your touch slightly. His hair was everything you had  soft and silky underneath your fingertips. You smiled, running your hands through it once more.

"So?" Eddie mumbled, opening his eyes to glance at you.

"Beautiful." You breathed, running your hand through his hair again. "How does it feel?" You asked curiously.

"Amazing," Eddie sighed, closing his eyes, "What type of braid are you thinking?" He asked as you tilted your head.

"You'd look amazing with a french, but I'm going to do the original one. Don't want your first braid to take too long. Besides, I'm not as skilled with the french as I am with the original." You stated, sectioning his hair into three parts.

Eddie sat there as you began to intertwine each section, humming happily to yourself as you did. Once you were done, you held the end of the braid so it wouldn't unravel. You reached forward and grabbed the hair tie sitting on top of your bedside table, tying his braid. Leaning back, you marveled at your work.

"There, all done." You said with a big smile.

Eddie slowly lifted his hand up, gently patting the braid so as to not mess your work up. A smile spread across his face as he admired how cute he must've looked. He turned in his seat, "Thank you, Y/N."

You reached up and booped his nose, "No, thank you, Eds."

[white--moon]

He's leaning heavily against going anywhere with Ichigo, against seeing their younger sisters. Part of him kind of wants that, wants to see that they're ok, or ok-ish. OK probably isn't a word that should be used to describe any of them ever again. He's not sure it's a great idea to go with Ichigo. He's not sure it's a great idea to see the girls. A different part of him shies away from the idea like it might burn. But Ichigo says they're different too and he hesitates, the same way he'd hesitated to leave again after he'd found Ichigo. He should have left. He meant to. He just couldn't, and now he can't quite refuse again. "...maybe." He finally decides, immediately regretting it. "I dunno."

His attention lowers to Ichigo's fists when his fingers curl to make them, before raising back up to Ichigo's features. His lip twitches into a hinted at sneer before the expression is gone again. He shrugs a shoulder noncommittally.

He scoffs lightly. "Don't worry, I don't need your permission. If I wanna, I will."

Ichigo keeps saying that, but Shiro just can't wrap his mind around it. How could he not have known?? He's so sure Ichigo looked right at him. He saw him. Ichigo admitted to seeing him. It makes him so angry and also feel so alone. Even just hearing Ichigo say it again -he didn't know- has him breathing a little faster, jaw a little tighter. He doesn't want to hear that. "You didn't know." He repeats, but his voice is too flat to be acceptance or agreement, sarcasm or a question.

It must be a lie, because that's the only thing that makes sense. Either Ichigo's lying to him, or he's got himself convinced he didn't know.

He shifts when Ichigo looks over his shoulder, uncomfortable with the idea that something has caught Ichigo's attention back there, but too confident that it's not important to actually look. He would have noticed someone walking up behind him. His eyes narrow slightly, because Ichigo hadn't been going for food when Shiro had followed him here, but he doesn't push. He waits a second, then starts following, hands still stuffed into his pockets, hood still pulled up against the chill.

"No you don't." It comes out with a hint of venom, "How can you?" He doesn't even know which of those two subtle but very different statements he's refuting. Both, maybe. "You barely know who I am."

Leaning against the wall the way he is, there's nowhere for him to really go, but Ichigo's outburst gets the smallest flinch. Shiro's attention sharpens, tension seeping into his body in increments, like the slow coil of a creature getting ready and fleeing or pouncing are equally as likely. He doesn't answer the question. It's rhetorical anyway. And then Ichigo's steam runs out and that word hangs in the air. Shiro snorts. "Like I said. You don't even know who I am. I just look like your brother."

His hand is caught and he's not really impressed, not quite amused, but not surprised either. If anything, he's more surprised when Ichigo stops and doesn't follow through. The motions, the strength behind Ichigo's parry had intention. He'd intended to follow through when he'd grabbed Shiro. "You touched me first." Not that it matters, and it was a very different contact; disbelief instead of Shiro's malice. More than anything, he thinks maybe his statement is some residual, brotherly bickering and he's not sure how to feel about that.

He stuffs his hands back in his pockets. "Would that make you feel better? If I did? I might, I could still decide to." He thinks Ichigo deserves his hate, honestly. Maybe Ichigo had nothing to do with why he was laying there bleeding and damaged and hearing their parents taking their last breaths, but it was Ichigo's fault that he was stuck there so long, that he was alone afterward, to sort through what had happened. From a big, supportive family to all alone and cold and hungry and angry and scared. He pulls a hand free, rubs at his face a little in a gesture that might be fatigue or a maybe a headache. It takes him a second to refocus on Ichigo and another to parse out what he'd said. "Haven't figured that out yet." He has, he just wants to keep it to himself for now. "I'm eatin' fine." That doesn't stop his stomach from grumbling.

[theaudacitytowrite]

Private Tutoring

Loki x Fem!Reader

A/N: Fluffy Request no.2 by the lovely @lucywrites02 :

"How about Loki helping Peter with homework? And the reader sees it and has heart eyes because Loki is so soft uwu"

I got a bit carried away at some point and it's maybe a bit more Loki and Peter than I anticipated. Hope you like it nonetheless :)

Also, I wrote a part in italian... and my skills might be a lil rusty... so sorry to any one who does speak it as their first language. I included an english translation at the end:)

Summary: Loki helps Peter with studying, not aware that the Reader is watching them.

Word count: 1.596

Y/N was casually strolling through the corridors of the tower, her only mission was to acquire a snack. She walked by the living room area when a groan made her stop in her tracks. She peeked around the door frame and saw Peter sitting on the ground at the coffee table.

His head had collapsed on a pile of loose papers and books. Scattered around him laid markers and crumpled up notes. It was finals week and Peter had been stressing over it for months now, annoying practically everyone on the team.

He was constantly repeating the same facts such as the process of kinesines walking on microturbule filaments to transport important components throughout the cell. He even recited during missions, earning groans from the whole team. Some went even that far and turned off their intercom.

Y/N didn’t mind it though, she often times recognized certain terms and processes Peter was describing. She felt proud when she could help him once in a while, when he got stuck at some point. Finally she could apply some of the stuff she had learned at school. Even if it was just to help Peter with studying.

Peter wasn’t too worried about science and sport, but he was a nervous wreck when he had thought of his exams about languages and art. Y/N stifled a laugh, glad she had graduated years ago and hadn’t to endure this kind of torture anymore, when she heard another voice in the room.

“It’s not that hard. You just have to keep the basics in mind. Is it a male or a female person you are talking about? The rest pretty much explains itself.” Loki shrugged helpless.

“Says the one, who has the ability of Allspeak.” Peter muttered under his breath.

“I hate to break it to you, but Allspeak just allows me to be heard by any being in their native language, and in return I can understand them.” Loki pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew that Peter didn’t mean to be so snary, he was just under a lot of pressure at the moment.

“And how do you know about all of these grammar rules and stuff then?” Peter sighed with a frown.

“I became fond of the language and the culture. Also their desserts taste like heaven. So naturally I wanted to know more about it. But I have to admit, I learned Latin when I was younger, so I had a slight advantage in contrast to you. But you can do this too, spiderling. You just need the right motivation. Let’s begin with that: what exactly don’t you understand?”

“I dunno.” Peter exclaimed exasperated, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry. I’m here to help. Please don’t get upset” Loki sat beside him with crossed legs, patting Peters back reassuringly.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, Mr. Loki. I’ll never understand it. I’m just too dumb.” Peter rubbed his hands of his face.

“Don’t say something like that.” Loki scolded, but softened his expression quickly again.

“I think I’m just a hopeless case. Choosing italian as an extracurricular activity was the stupidest idea I ever had. I could’ve joined the chess club or something. Now MJ will think I am stupid when I fail our oral final.”

“Oh, so all of this is about a girl?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe..?” Peter shuffled nervously, he hadn’t intended to say the last part out loud.

“Well, have you considered that you could woo your precious girlfriend with an extensive knowledge of another language?”

“Honestly, that wasn’t my plan. I just wanted to spend more time with her and study and learn another skill together. You really think I could impress her with italian?"

“Picture this: You and MJ together on a holiday in Italy. After a beautiful day of sight seeing, you go out for dinner and you can order in perfect italian, ordering a desert you two share. That surely would impress a young lady, wouldn't it?”

“Even though this is sounding great and really romantic coming from you,” Peter quickly back paddled, when he realised what he had said, “no offense.”

“None taken… yet.” Loki smirked, pleasantly surprised by Peters wit.

“I just don’t think italian can have that big of an effect on someone, can it?”

“You underestimate the bewitching sound of this language, my young friend. You can practically say anything to someone and it would sound like a confession of undying love. Provided, they don’t speak it. For example: Y/N é com-”

“Y/N?” Peter interrupted him with a surprised look. Y/N pricked up her ears when her name was mentioned that casually. Her interest in this conversation peaked.

“Just go with it.” Loki ordered.

“Y/N è come il sole. Calda e luminosa. I suoi occhi brilla luminosi, mettendo in risalta l'essenza della sua bellezza.

Quando la guardi lei illumina il tuo stesso animo. Lava via tutte le tue preoccupazioni e paure. Senza la sua presenza sarei sicuramente morto.

Il sua tocca mi accarezza con la potenza di mille soli, rendendolo a volte quasi insopportabile. Eppure lo bramo con tutto me stesso.”

“Woow… that did sound really good. Did you insult her?” Peter snickered.

“Something along the lines.” Loki shrugged with a bashful smile. He still hadn't noticed her standing in the doorway. Else he could’ve seen Y/N standing there, swooning over the way his words had spilled over his lips skillfully. She had never heard anything that beautiful before, not caring if Loki really did say something mean. He probably was just teasing about one of her quirks like he always was.

“I’ll give you this. It’s sounds pretty nice.” Peter reasoned.

“And I assure you, MJ will swoon over you when you court her with these sweet nothings whispered into her ear.” Loki daydreamed, a soft smile on his lips as if he had someone special on his mind.

“That almost sounds like you have thought of doing something like that.” Peter teased. Lokis smile fell instantly and he glared at him for a moment. Peter quickly tried to distract Loki from his thoughtless comment, “Ok, let’s try this again then.”

“From the top.” Loki let the previous comment slide gratefully.

Y/N chuckled at the exchange she had witnessed. Seeing Loki act so soft and kind with Peter made her stomach flutter. A warm feeling was washing over her and she couldn’t help the stupid smile on her face. She felt proud of Loki, that he had allowed to lower his guards slowly but surely. She couldn’t wait until the whole team could see who Loki really was.

The rumbling of her stomach reminded her of her actual mission, the flutter not helping her hunger in any way. She looked back at the duo who went into a huddle over a book again and smiled, before she reluctantly continued her walk to the kitchen. She could’ve watched those two for hours.

When she returned after a while, full and satisfied, she could hear Peter excitedly translate vocabularies Loki queried.

“Just?” Loki inquired the last vocabulary but Peter suddenly began to stutter.

“Was it something with r?” he rubbed his neck uncertain.

“Focus, Peter. You got this. Think of another word for ‘just’.” Loki advised. You could almost hear Peters brainrattle during the struggle to find the right word.

“Just…. only…? Hmm.. no. Solely…. solamente!” he exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down while pointing at Loki who sat on a couch.

“Yes!” Loki jumped up as well, pumping his fist into the air, “Well done, spiderling!”

“Thank you Mr. Loki!” Peter jumped around his neck for a brief hug, “Now I feel ready for my exam on friday.”

“You’re welcome. And good luck with your exam!” Loki beamed, as he watched Peter gather all his books and went to leave the room. When Loki turned around to sit back on the couch, a surprised huff escaped his lips.

“Oh, Y/N. I didn’t see you there. How long have you been standing there? How much did you hear?” he scolded himself internally of how shaky those words had come out.

“Not that long...” she grinned at him cheekily as she strolled towards him, “It was adorable to see you two. You really have a way with kids.”

“I’m just happy when I can help.” Loki tried to brush off her compliment. Shit, was his face getting warm?

“What did you say about me earlier?” she suddenly asked. So she must have heard a lot...

“I suppose you have to learn italian to find out.” he joked, scrunching up his nose.

“Rude...” she giggled, poking him into his stomach. He caught her hand in his before she could retreat.

“I mean… you could learn if from one of the best.” he offered cockily, his confidence returning in a flash.

“That sounds tempting.” she couldn’t help to bite her lip. Lokis hand was still holding hers tightly, their eyes locked. She could feel a pleasant coldness creeping up her wrist, suddenly being hyper aware of their lack of distance.

“When do we start?” she barely answered over a whisper.

~

English translation:

Y/N is like the sun. Warm and bright. Her eyes shine brightly, highlighting the essence of her beauty.

When you look at her she illuminates your own soul. She washes away all of your worries and fears. Without her presence I would surely die.

Her touch caresses me with the might of a thousands suns, making it almost unbearable at times. Yet I crave for it with my whole being.

~

Taglist: @funsized-mimi

Let me know if you wanna get added.

[sehunniepotwrites]

when the ball drops, our hearts stop | mk.l

gif created by @nctsworld​ 

SYNOPSIS ☆ In which being dragged and ditched at a New Year’s Eve gala with your so-called enemy doesn’t end as badly as you thought it would. 

GENRE ☆ enemies-to-lovers!au, fluff, suggestive PAIRING ☆ mark lee x (f) reader WORD COUNT ☆ 2666 WARNINGS ☆ suggestive content ahead!! dirty dancing, neck kisses, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, cursing

PLAYLIST ☆ new year’s day - taylor swift

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” had to be the number one question that was sent your way and unlike last year, you didn’t have an answer. Finding your lack of plans to celebrate the upcoming year with a bang, your best friend Wendy decided to drag you to the great outdoors. 

And by the great outdoors, she meant the biggest New Year’s Gala in the city. So there you were, in the grandest hotel in the heart of the city, downed in a glittery silver power suit that hugged your body in just the right way. A matching belt wrapped around to cinch your waist and the low cut of your blazer and lack of undershirt only accentuated the curves you usually preferred hiding. Hair curled up and face painted with the most flattering colors for your skin tone, you were rocking and ready to go.

The gala was packed with people your age and older with a mix of top forty music blaring from the loudspeakers. Everyone was dressed to the nines, wearing suits and dresses that went with the gold and silver theme. Bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor and you were sure Wendy and her boyfriend Johnny were in that crowd as well. They were always the type to be caught up in all the fun— you, not so much, not since your breakup with your ex that occurred five months ago anyway.

You wanted to stray away from the party scene since it was your ex’s scene as well but fuck it, it was New Year’s Eve and you deserved to have fun. Your definition of fun included an obscene amount of alcohol, courtesy of Son Wendy and the credit card she slipped into the palm of your hand before making her way to the dance floor.

Of course, you promised that you would chat and get to know some people, maybe find someone to share a New Year’s kiss with but it was all a lie. You just wanted your free drinks and the loneliness haunting your mind to fade away.

Three Long Island Iced Teas and a bit way past tipsy into your night, a person pushed their way next to you at the bar, their body pressing against your side as they ordered a drink. You couldn’t see them, your hair creating a curtain and blocking them from view but you felt their eyes on you. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and took another sip of your drink that the person talked to you, immediately recognizing your face.

They called your name a bit cockily and you flinched at the sound, sober enough to pinpoint the exact person next to you but drunk enough to engage in a conversation with him. Swiveling your barstool to face him, you shot him a curt smile, lifting your drink up from the bar in greeting. “Mark,” you nodded as you drank him in. 

“Yo.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Mark Lee was handsome. His hair had been dyed a shade of blond and was styled in a way that made your heart unwillingly skip a beat. His grey velvet suit clung onto his body oh-so-well and the black tie that contrasted against the bright white of his shirt looked almost too tempting, the drunken state of your mind was urging you to pull it so he could step closer to you.

What did people say? Drunken thoughts, sober words? Yeah, fuck that.

“Johnny invited you?” you questioned as you sucked on the straw of your drink. You watched as his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips for a fraction of a second, his lips curving into the smirk you wanted to punch off his face. Or kiss. 

“Yeah, should’ve figured I would see you when John invited me. You and Wendy are like a packaged deal, you know?” he replied as the bartender dropped off his drink. This time, your gaze was glued to his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, eyes slightly widening as his tongue peeked out before he downed the liquid courage. 

Coughing out of embarrassment, you looked away before Mark could catch you eyeing his seemingly delectable mouth. 

“You look like the mirrorball that’s about to drop,” he commented on your fit of the night. Glancing down at your suit, you frowned. It didn’t look that bad, did it?

When you shifted in your seat yet again, it sent your head spinning for a second, leaving you to grasp against Mark’s toned arm for balance. “I feel like one too,” you threw back. “Is the room spinning?”

“Shit, dude, how much did you drink?” His voice dropped lower in slight concern.

You hold up three fingers before blinking. No, it was four. You raised another finger. 

“All of them iced teas?” 

“Yup!”

He cursed “Where’s your asshole of a boyfriend? Don’t see him around anywhere— doesn’t he know it’s not safe to leave their girl alone at the bar?” Mark pushed, suddenly worried about your safety. He asked if anyone had hit on you yet and let out a sigh of relief when you reiterated that no one had bothered you. Despite the insult thrown your ex’s way, you remembered how considerate the guy was. The only real reason you hated Mark was due to the rivalry he held with your ex-boyfriend.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, shoulders raising and the material of your blazer shifting. Mark coughed, eyes quickly darting away so they wouldn’t land on the deep cut into your cleavage. “Probably sucking face with the bitch he left me for.”

Another long swig of your iced tea and suddenly, the drink was gone with only ice in the glass. You pointed a finger at his face, “Don’t cheat, folks. It’ll wreck a person.”

“Fuck,” Mark muttered under his breath, now fuming with anger that someone would cheat on a girl like you. It only grew when he realized your best friends had left you at the bar alone. He was going to rip their heads off later— how irresponsible of them. 

“Maybe that’s enough drinking for you today,” he told you, wanting to cut you off so you could sober up. He waved a hand in the air to call the bartender over to request two glasses of water, which was immediately prepared for you.

“Drink up,” Mark commanded, holding the straw to your lips. 

You thanked him with a lazy smile before drinking away, sighing at the refreshing feeling of the cold water running down your throat. He held the drink for you in his hands as you continued to work on the glass, only setting it down after you finished it. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his shoulder. He felt comfortable and you didn’t want to move as you breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne. You always preferred Mark’s fresh cologne over your ex’s overwhelmingly woody scent. It was consoling and safe and nice and—

“Hey, why don’t we move you to a booth? You’ll be more comfortable there,” Mark softly suggested.

“But what if I want to dance for once?” you whined.

“Let’s get you to sober up a bit more and then I can take you dancing, how ‘bout that?” His breath hit your ear and you laughed at the cold sensation before nodding. A flush that had nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed took over your face as the man you said you hated wrapped a supporting arm around your waist.

An hour later, your drunken state was fading as was the loneliness you were dreading. Mark Lee made an excellent company; he wasn’t at all what your ex painted him out to be. He was kind, caring, and endearingly sweet with the prettiest pair of eyes to match. The way his body wiggled to match his overflowing giggles brought the brightest smile to your lips, something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time. 

The time spent with him in the small booth rekindled the crush you harbored for him before you met your sad excuse of an ex, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Hey,” he leaned over the table, his face so close to yours. “You wanna move closer to the screen so we can see the ball drop clearly? It’s forty to midnight. We can dance, too.”

Your eyes curled up in excitement as you agreed, easily slipping your hand in his like you had done it a million times before. The feeling of his larger hand wrapped around yours sent you into a high that you couldn’t really describe. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to let go and thank god he didn’t.

Mark only held you tighter as you arrived on the dance floor with a clear view of the screen. The bass thumped as he tentatively quirked a brow, silently asking you to dance. You replied by draping your arms over the slopes of his shoulder, your fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging you closer at the waist, Mark shot you another look to see if you were okay. The tightening grip around his neck was enough of an answer for him. 

You shivered as his hands ran up and down the sides of your body, his touch almost burning through your glittered suit. When Mark least expected it, you turned around in his hold, pressing your backside against his front. A groan slipped out of his lips before his head dropped against your shoulder, his moist lips ghosting against the exposed skin of your neck. You reached back to hold his head in place as your body grinded into his.

The hand holding your waist tightened at your ministrations, squeezing you in a way that drove you crazy and the pair of lips that left a cautious kiss drove you crazier. The moan you let out and the way your free hand depressed against the one placed on your side was all the confirmation Mark needed to continue the trail of kisses he planned on leaving over the expanse of your neck. You enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your skin so much, your head rolled back and your eyes fluttered to a pleasured close as he nipped at your skin. 

The next half hour was spent with you encaged in Mark’s hold and you weren’t ashamed to say that you enjoyed every minute of it. When catching eyes with Wendy and Johnny across the dance floor, you laughed as your best friend wiggled her brows at you and shot a thumbs up your way. It was then, you realized, that it was their plan to get you two together all along.

Your friends had always mentioned you would get along great, the only thing stopping you was the blasted and unnecessary rivalry that blossomed between Mark and your ex. Now that the terrible excuse of a person was out of your life, there was room for a new man and you found yourself not hating the idea of Mark being the next keeper of your heart.

Five minutes to midnight, you turned around in his hold and smiled up at him. He returned the look with a soft grin of his own. 

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were, Mark Lee.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending a warm feeling to the pit of your stomach. “I never thought of you as bad, you know?”

“Is that so?” you countered, your hand freely running through his blond tresses. 

“Yeah, I always thought you were great.”

“Just great?” you teased, leaning a bit forward.

He groaned, “Ugh, dude, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, dude,” you pushed further, leaving him to touch his head against your shoulder again. You were starting to think that he loved to do it. 

“I always thought you were pretty special,” he whispered into your skin. 

Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you answered back, “I never wanted to admit it but I thought you were pretty special, too.”

“Glad to finally see that the feeling’s mutual,” he laughed before he returned the favor with a kiss to your jaw.

When the countdown from twenty began, Mark shifted both your bodies to face the screen as the people around you started to shout the numbers at the top of their lungs. Wendy and Johnny fought their way through the crowd to get to you and you briefly squeezed your best friend’s hand in greeting. Ready to leave the current year behind and welcome in the new one, you pressed your side into Mark’s before joining in on the countdown. 

You were shining, Mark noticed, like the mirrorball that was projected on the screen. It wasn’t like he mentioned earlier— it had nothing to do with the silver of the suit. It was just you and the way you shined so brightly as your voice blended with the others in the room. You were lost in the feeling and he loved the way you looked under the dim lights. 

He hoped he could see you in more nights to come, for more opportunities to hold you the way he did on the dance floor.

Mark Lee, who was in love with you longer than he could even remember, wanted your midnights and more. He wanted to hold on to the memories of keeping you close and to create new ones if you would let him. 

Hold onto the memories and they’ll hold onto you or so they said.

His eyes were stuck on you like glue as the crowd reached number ten.

Nine!

Mark’s hand wriggled around the ends of your blazer.

Eight!

His fingertips were hot against your bare skin.

Seven!

Mark tugged you closer to him, making you lose your grip on Wendy’s hand.

Six!

He found your hand reaching for his, fingers tangling together like the red string of fate.

Five!

His heart was beating a mile a minute at the feeling of your thumb rubbing against his skin.

Four!

You jerk your head towards him with glistening eyes and the widest smile. His eyes darted down to your colored lips before shifting back to meet your gaze.

“You wanna kiss me so bad,” you teased as your eyes followed his actions and ended up watching his tongue peek out to moisten his now dry lips.

Three!

“And what if I do?”

Two!

“Well, I’m not going to stop you,” came your flirty reply.

One! 

And when the ball dropped from the sky, your hearts stopped for a brief moment.

Cheers for the new year came from all around but Mark Lee didn’t care— all he cared about was your lips fiercely crashing against his. He spun your body round so it slotted so perfectly against his, much like two pieces of a puzzle coming together as a whole. 

The sensation of finally kissing your lips after secretly longing for you was more than satisfactory; it was addictive, more addictive than the drinks he consumed or any other tempting substance that existed in the world. Mark Lee was enthusiastically devoted to kissing you and the idea of ceasing never crossed his mind.

The only reason he did was for you to catch a breath. His eagerness never faltered, his lips running down to your jaw and the sides of your neck. He pecked your temple and forehead as you giggled at his over-the-top display of affection and it was music to his ears.

Pulling you flush into his chest, he whispered a late greeting into your ear, “Happy New Year.”

With your hands resting against his pecs, you glanced up at him with a charming smile, making his heart drop for the second time in the new year. 

“A happy new year indeed.”

author’s note ☆ surprise! happy new year, everyone! (and happy 500+ followers to me!) i coughed this out in like five hours so it’s unedited and not my best work, but i wanted to release something in time for the new year! wishing you the best 2021!! 

this was originally a request and i finally filled it!! ✨

[writingwithcolor]

Biracial (B/W), Trans, and Cultural Disconnect

I’m a biracial college grad who grew up in a very white, rural area in the northeast US and within the last four years made the realization I’m trans ( or masculine-aligned agender but that’s for another time ). My mother is black and my father is white.

Beauty Standards

Beauty standards haven’t really been something I’ve paid attention to growing up, mostly because dresses and skirts always made be uncomfortable and I didn’t like the weight of makeup on my face. I am very stubborn and so I stuck to not wearing them as much as possible, even getting into arguments with my mother about wearing a dress to a funeral when I had nice dress pants and a blouse to wear instead.

My mother did have a bit of an obsession with my hair growing up; she loved my curls to the point that if I mentioned cutting them she adamantly said no. My hair isn’t the usual tight black coils but rather “banana curls” as my mother described. It was only in my senior year of high school that, out of the blue, she told me if I wanted to cut my hair I could.

Culture / Family Life / Identity Issues

This is the biggest struggle I find I deal with and sort of ties in with like four topics, so this section will be long. I don’t have any attachment to a culture, not even the African-American culture developed in the US. I grew up in a very, very white area and until 5th grade, went to a private religious school where as far as I can remember, I was the only PoC in the whole (under 100) student body.

Both of my parents have no siblings and due to some things, I only actually met my dad’s extended family three or so years ago when we went for a visit aside from phone conversations I had with his father when he was alive. My mother’s parents were gone before I was 5 and she didn’t really have any extended family aside from a couple of cousins up in New York who I saw every so often when I was really young. I had an “aunt” who my mother knew for many years along with her son whom I consider an uncle, but that’s about all the extended family I have. My (half) brother is 13 years older than I, so by the time I was 7 he was out of the house and visiting only a few times a year. So even despite not being an only child, I was raised like one.

Even in the public school I went to, there weren’t a lot of BIPOC and the few that showed up in high school in my small grade and I didn’t really talk. My university had a majority white student body and I found I couldn’t quite relate with the BIPOC community, mostly because it felt like you had to choose between the BIPOC community or the LGBTQIA+ community and most of my classmates, because of my major, and friends were part of the latter.

When I studied abroad, I became good friends with a BIPOC queer group, especially with a black individual from NC. But sometimes they would make references to me and such that I wouldn’t understand and at one point this individual said “How do you not get that, you’re black!” I had to pull them aside and explain my environment growing up and thankfully, they understood immediately and apologized. But it was alienating, and exacerbated the feelings I have of “I don’t belong anywhere”.

I’m not light skinned enough to pass as white, but I don’t have the experiences of growing up in a black community to connect with other black folk. I just feel like I stand alone in that respect.

Micro-aggressions

I don’t know if this counts as a micro-aggression, but the thing that comes to mind immediately happened when I was 14. I had an online friend and we had been voice-chatting for awhile. One night I turned on my camera and the first thing out of their mouth was “You’re black? You don’t sound black!“ 

I don’t speak/use AAVE because I didn’t grow up around people who did, and don’t have any sort of understanding about it, etc. This also adds into the whole identity crisis thing.

Misconceptions

I am frequently assumed to be Hispanic and, on one occasion, Indian. I’ve had people ask me if I’m Mexican outright. At one point I worked in a nursing home and the dementia unit had a lot of nurses who spoke Spanish due to some of the residents forgetting English. One of these nurses spoke to me in Spanish. I gave him a blank look and he sorta paused and went “You don’t speak Spanish?” I was also on a train once and an older Indian gentleman was standing near me? Or took the seat next to me and I believed he asked me if I was Indian outright.

I don’t have enough Workplace experience to make it it’s own category, but I once worked in a Dunkin Donuts with a primarily Indian and Haitian staff and I had these older POC women repeatedly asking me “Where are you from?” when I started. I told them “oh, the western part of the state” and they did the “but where are you from.“ I don’t know, I’m sorry.

Also as a kid my dad picked me up from school and this one girl asked me if I was adopted lmao. Nobody ever thinks biracial.

Self-esteem

I have pretty low self-esteem. While I don’t necessarily think I’m ugly, my struggle with my identity both gender and racially make it hard to be confident and outgoing, at least with strangers. I dunno, existing is hard sometimes.

Things I’d like to see more of

More mixed kids in stories and media as main characters or main supporting characters

More interracial relationships of all kinds, not just black & white.

I don’t know if it’s right to ask for this, but also.. more small families. 

More people whose families are like mine: just myself, my parents and my brother, with an occasional family friend showing up for holidays. All these stories with plenty of cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents always make me feel alone and like I missed out on a lot.

View more POC Profiles | Submit your own

[rawdogmeharry]

everything

or, the one where Harry's tired and lovie is his saving grace.

[part 2: anything]

also known as 1.3k of absolute fluff and nothing else. lemme know if you enjoyed this, i'd be happy to take a few requests <3

requests go here:)

masterlist

•

"Baby, y'home?"

"I'm in the kitchen, Har."

Upon walking into the kitchen, Harry was greeted with a sight he was sure would be etched into his memory for eternity—his lovie dressed in one of his black 'treat people with kindness' hoodies, bare-legged and socked feet—which he's pretty sure were still the same clothes that she slept in the night before—, hair a right mess but yet still so effortlessly gorgeous, he thought she most definitely was an angel sent from the Heavens above to be cherished and loved just by him. Putting a tea bag into a gray mug with a cartoon cow painted on it, but still looking so ethereal should be illegal, Harry thought.

"Hi, baby girl," he smiled softly at her. A barely there smile was all he could muster after a day of studio recordings, meetings and conversations he's heard millions of times before.

"Hi, Har," she almost whispered after hearing the tone of his greeting, immediately knowing what he needed. Some loving and gentle touches, a warm cup of tea in bed and total silence, because she knows when he looks and sounds as tired as he is right now, all he can hear is buzzing in his ears and feel an irritating ache in his head and muscles.

Watching his darling slowly turn around and give him the most beautiful smile he's ever seen, all he wanted to do was scoop her up in a bone-crushing hug and never let go. If it was up to him, the only way he'd ever let her go from the hug was if a force so strong physically forced him to let go of her body. And Harry honestly doesn't think a force that powerful exists.

"Y'get more gorgeous everytime I see ya, y'know? How d'you do that?"

He watches as she giggles softly and blushes, shyly tucking a piece of her messy hair behind her ear, "stop, Har. Y'know I haven't changed from my pyjamas I was wearing this morning when y'left for work. Just c'mere," she opens her arms and awaits for the hug she knows she's about to get.

Harry slowly walks towards her and smiles again—or not again, Harry's sure his smile hasn't gone away since he entered their home just from the thought of seeing his lovie—, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and feeling her dainty arms squeeze around his middle. This is actual heaven, Harry thinks.

"Want some tea, honey?" she asks, even though she's already got the kettle on and the mug ready. She just knows Harry like that, and Harry knows that she knows him like that, and that makes him come to a realisation that he doesn't think the amount of love he feels for her can be described by any existing word in the English language. Or any other language, in fact.

"Tha' would be nice, darling. Y'have a nice day? What'd you do?"

"Nothin' much, to be honest. Cleaned up a bit, went through some of y'books in the library. Oh, I also changed y'sheets to the purple ones y'like so much. Know you sleep the best with 'em." They stand still, wrapped up in their warm cocoon, and she slowly starts to stroke her fingertips across his back under his white shirt.

"I sleep best 'cause you're wrapped up in my arms, lovie, doesn't matter if m'sheets are the most beautiful purple color and feel like silk or if they're dirty, ripped up rags. But thank you, lovie. Y'are the absolute best, baby." The soft pads of her fingertips on his tense back make Harry feel sleepy, and he's pretty sure he feels himself swaying just a tiny bit.

Her heart feels mushy and her insides feel warm from the sweet words his raspy voice talks into her neck, and the goosebumps that litter her body, she's sure represent the intensity of her feelings she's feeling on the inside.

"Ever the charmer, Har. The kettle's boilin', baby, let me make you your tea," she says as she slowly unveils herself from his grip.

Harry barely surpresses a pathetic whine he desperately wants to let out, because he really doesn't want to let her go. She's so warm, and soft, and smells like his vanilla body wash she steals from him all the time and he never wants to let her out of his embrace. But somebody has to make the tea.

"Y'know, I still haven't gotten a kissy yet. What's tha' about, lovie?" he crosses his toned arms and legs and leans on the counter beside her where she's pouring hot water into two mugs.

She puts the kettle down and mirrors his position and tilts her head to the side, "oh? And what should we do about that?"

"I dunno, perhaps give your man a kissy? Because he's really desperate for one. Pretty sure he's about to pass out from kissy shortage," he says with a serious expression on his face and raises his eyebrows.

She giggles at his stupid joke but still shies away—diverts her eyes to the tiles at the bottom of his kitchen island and nervously plays with her fingers. He says some stupid joke (kissy shortage? really?), yet the look he gives her and the thought of him kissing her, even after 7 months of dating, still makes her shy. How can one be so cute?, Harry thinks.

"C'mere, my man, since y'want one so bad," she opens her arms and puckers her lips dramatically as she waits for her kiss.

Harry laughs at the absolute ball of cuteness in front of him and wraps his strong limbs around her for the second time that evening.

He starts off with a soft press of their lips, and when he immediately feels that this just won't do, he lifts her up on the counter beside the steaming mugs of tea and plops her down softly on her bum.

She tightens her hold around his neck and feels the desperation and neediness in his kisses. The pressing together of their lips gets stronger with every second. And when he tilts her head to the side with his big palms on her cheeks and touches her bottom lip with his tongue she knows he's showing her just how much he's missed her.

Slowly opening her mouth to let his tongue slip past the barrier and gently touch with hers, she also wraps her thighs around his hips and brings him in even closer—so close that almost no spaces are left between them and Harry knows that that's how she's showing that she's missed him just as much.

Soft and gentle swipes of their tongues and small strings of saliva that keep their lips together even when they part for air. Soft scratches of her nails against his scalp that make him let out throaty groans from deep within his throat to show his appreciation.

That's how lovie shows how well she knows her other half. The loving, the gentle touches.

Slowly pulling away, leaving barely an inch between their slick lips, she quietly whispers, "go get changed. I'll get the tea and wait for you in bed, baby. Hurry up before it gets cold."

Tea and silence in bed. That's also how she shows that she knows what and when to say or do to make him feel relaxed, loved and cared for.

Harry smiles at her and helps her jump down from the counter, watching as she walks away with the two mugs of tea in her hands and follows her upstairs to his bedroom. Watches as she sets his cup on his bedside table, then walks to her own side and sets hers there. Watches as she pulls away the purple silk comforter and gracefully gets into the bed, immediately rolling to his side to keep it warm.

And while Harry is in the bathroom brushing his teeth after getting changed, he's already thinking about whether to propose to her in Paris or somewhere off the coast of Italy.

[cutiesnroses]

you're beautiful

(Axl x Reader) Lately, you've been struggling with many dark thoughts about your body image and your worth. It's one of those days where your self confidence is at an all time low. Luckily, your boyfriend lets you know just how beautiful you are to him.

A/N: To anybody who reads this: don't let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful :)

—————————————————————————————

Disproportional. If you could describe yourself in one word, it'd be that one as you look in the mirror. Your feet look too big, your hands are tiny in comparison to other girls', something about your face is off...the mirror can whisper ugly thoughts into your ear. Yet you can't move yourself away from it. You have to point out every single thing that you dislike about yourself, in the hopes that somehow you'll "fix" those apparent imperfections by doing so. You're in the middle of examining the spots and acne scars on your cheeks when Axl's voice sounds from the bathroom, where he's soaking in the bath. "Hey, Y/N? Can you grab that book on my nightstand and bring it over here?"

Distracted by your reflection, you don't catch everything that he just said. "Grab what?" "The book on my nightstand, can you come in here and give it to me?" You tear yourself away from the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom and scan Axl's nightstand for the book he's talking about. You find the black hardcover version of Frankenstein resting next to his cigarette box and the telephone, John Martin's Sadak in Search of the Waters of Oblivion painting as part of the front cover.

Pushing the door open, you lower your head with the book in one hand. The steam begins to melt a little of your makeup as you get closer to the bathtub. Axl's head is leaned against the back of the tub in relaxation, his eyes closed as well. You set the book down on the sink and your fingers touch the surface of the warm water. You splash some droplets around, a few of them hitting Axl's chest and neck. He raises an eyebrow and opens his eyes, looking up at you with those dashing greens of his. "Thanks." He sits up to give you a kiss and you bend down to do the same. The kiss feels good like always, but Axl can sense that there's some kind of restraint coming from you. "Wanna get in with me?" He shifts so there's some extra room for you in the water.

"I dunno, Ax...I-" "Aw, c'mon. It's really nice in here, dude. You can read with me," Axl adds dreamily. You shake your head and try to think up some quick excuse to not take your clothes off and show him your body. "Sorry, babe, I don't like horror books," you throw out, even though it's pretty obvious that Axl doesn't buy it.

"It's not that scary, Y/N." He pauses for a brief moment and then rises out of the tub, grabbing a towel to dry himself off with. You feel a strange feeling of guilt wash over you. Here was this man who looks like a Greek statue come to life. His abs, jawline, shoulders, lips, nose, eyes - everything is chiseled to perfection. And your brain can't comprehend why someone who looks so flawless could end up with you. You don't see what he sees; you just see yourself as unworthy of his presence in your life.

You walk away from him, confused and disappointed in yourself. He eventually catches up to you with the towel tied around his waist. There's still some water that drips from his hair as he looks around for a clean shirt and some shorts. "I'm all ears, baby. I don't like seeing you like this." You tense your shoulders and decide to just tell him the truth. "I really hate myself, Axl. You don't belong with someone as ugly as me, I'm sorry."

Axl looks genuinely hurt by the amount of hatred you have for yourself. His eyes dart around the room and then a hand goes over his mouth. "If I said anything that made you feel like this, Y/N, I'm so sorry. You know I love you and would never want to hurt-" "No, you didn't do anything, Ax. It's just me," you admit, ashamed. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist and presses his lips against your skin. His forehead touches yours and he shakes his head.

"Y/N, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met in my entire life. I've met a lot of pretty girls, yeah, but nobody compares to you. I'm mad at myself because I should've let you know how amazing you look everyday." You stay silent for a little, taken aback by his kindness, soft demeanor, and sincerity. He looks you deep in the eyes and sighs. "Promise that you won't say mean shit to yourself about the way you look or whatever, 'cause it's not true."

Overwhelmed with all the love he's giving you right now, you nod and kiss him lovingly. "I'm lucky to have a guy like you, babe." He smiles and puts an arm around you as he guides you to the bed.

"Okay, now can we read Frankenstein together?" "Fine, but it's gonna be scary." "It's not!"

[stardusttrashed]

Crushing

Word Count: 2k

I racked my brain, trying to think of why I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off the class sweetheart. I should’ve been focusing on math work in front of me. It was easy enough that I could’ve completed it in my sleep. Instead, my eyes were focused on the girl across the room who busied herself, helping others and making idle conversations. 

My eyes roamed over her figure as she leaned against Deku’s desk. Somehow she made our boring uniform seem like something you’d see in a magazine. Or at least I think so. I’ve never been one to read through fashion magazines or anything. I tried my best to hide my snarl as she giggled away at something Deku said. 

I’m not really sure when it happened or even how. She’s so annoyingly kind and bubbly like a walking ball of sunshine that always manages to get in the way. She’s always rushing in to protect people, even if that meant putting herself at risk. She’s a complete idiot. 

“Yo, Earth to Bakugo,” Kirishima snapped his fingers in front of my eyes, pulling me out of my trace. I blinked several times as I tried to refocus on the paper lying on the table in front of me. “Everything alright? You’re usually done with classwork by now.”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, “what? Are you my mom now?” I rolled my eyes as I finished up the last of the assignment. I heard Kirishima grumble something before following suit. We worked quietly for a few moments as the voices of everyone else filled the space.

“Someone is grumpier than usual today, eh,” Y/n giggled quietly, plopping herself down on the empty seat next to me. She scooted closer until she could prop her elbows up on my desk. She gave me a fake pout, “is it cause I didn’t come talk to you first?” Y/n looked me up and down with a smug smirk that made my stomach feel weird. 

I wanted to wipe that smirk off her face just so I could stop feeling like this, but all I could manage was a low growl and an eye roll. “In your dreams, idiot. You’re worse than hair-for-brains.” 

“Aw, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week,” she continued to tease. “At this rate, he’ll join movie night for sure!” Kirishima’s laugh followed her joyous giggle. The dopey look she gave me never wavered even as I mumbled ‘idiots.’ 

I could feel Kirishima’s eyes shift back and forth between her and me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing something. Before I could say anything, the bell signaling that class ended rang. 

“You are coming to movie night, right,” Y/n asked as I started packing up. Her voice was softer than usual, almost like she was nervous. 

I shook the thought out of my head. She was always the first one to stand up to me or challenge me. While the other people in our class would hesitate, she would hear me yell and laugh it off with some comeback. It was irritating, but I guess that’s why I… tolerate her more than the others. 

“Tch. I’ve got homework.”

“So do I, dummy, it’ll probably only take an hour or so. Plus, it’s the weekend.”

 Everyone had left the room already, leaving me and her alone in the room. My palms grew increasingly sweaty as my stomach did flips again. With a huff, I pulled the strap over my shoulder and headed out the door. I could hear her scrambling to get her stuff together before her rapid footsteps sounded off behind me. 

“That’s tough. I outta kick your ass.” 

My eyes wandered down to her lips as she spoke, catching the way she tried to chew back a cocky smirk. “In your dreams, pipsqueak,” I scoffed. 

“I’ll kick your ass anytime anywhere, sparky.” Y/n stopped in her tracks and shoved her pointer finger into my chest. “In case you forgot, you don’t scare me.” The cocky smirk firmly planted on her lips drove me crazy. It made my stomach flip, and my mind go hazy. 

Without thinking, I swatted her hand away and stalked off. “If it’ll make you shut the hell up,” I called behind me as calm as my nerves could let me say. “I’ll come to the damn movie night.” 

Hours had passed since I last saw Y/n, but she hadn’t left my mind since. She made it hard to do homework. Assignments that should’ve taken me 30 minutes at most took me an hour thanks to my mind constantly drifting off to think of her. I had no idea what was wrong with me. 

My phone pinged, pulling me from yet another drawn-out thought about Y/n. I checked my phone to see it was none other than Y/n herself.

Y/n: In case you haven’t heard yet, Kiri canceled movie night.

I wanted to be happy to hear that I didn’t have to go to some dumb movie night anymore, but instead, I felt disappointed. I had spent all this time preparing myself to hang out with the crew. Well, if I’m frank, I was preparing myself to hang with Y/n. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent her a quick reply.

Movie night doesn’t have to be canceled.

Y/n: ?.... Are you offering to host a movie night?! What have you done to my precious Katsu?!?!

My lips curled up into a small smile as I read her reply. “Her precious Katsu.” I don’t know why those three words made me feel warm, but all it did was egg me on further. 

If you want to make a big deal about it I can say nevermind. 

Y/n: Stop being an idiot, I’ll be over in an hour

We had spent plenty of time alone together, more than I can count actually. She always seemed to talk me into studying together or being her sparring partner. As much as I’d hate to admit it, she’s even got me to go to the mall with her... and the others. However, something felt different about this time, I couldn’t quite explain what though. 

Time couldn’t seem to pass fast enough as I waited. I wiped my hands on my pants and checked the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. A sigh escaped my lips followed by another ping of my phone. 

Shitty Hair: Told everyone I couldn’t host movie night tonight. Maybe you and y/n can hang ;) you’re welcome

I scoffed as I read Kirishima’s text. He could be a complete idiot sometimes, but for once he might be onto something, not that I’d tell him. I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone on my bed. How’d he know that I would like hanging out with her alone instead of with everyone else? Well, if I was being honest it was more than just liking hanging out with her. I liked her company more than the others, she's even my favorite sometimes. I like h…. I cut that thought short as I walked to the bathroom to shower. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, I don’t treat her any different from anyone else. 

My mind flipped through the various words I could use to describe my feelings for her, avoiding any sappy like words, but none seemed to fit. I finally settled on ‘tolerate’. I knew it wasn’t quite the word I was looking for, but it was the closest I was going to allow myself to admit. 

I had barely pulled on my sweatpants when a soft knock echoed through my room. A rush of nervous panic rushed through me at the sound. I hurriedly put on deodorant and hesitantly sprayed some cologne on my sweats. 

“Katsuki, you there-” Y/n started to ask, quickly cutting herself off as I opened the door. She flug her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her in a hug. I wanted nothing more than to put my hands on her waist, but instead my hands stayed at my sides, getting sweatier by the second. 

“Hey there,” Y/n said gleefully as she finally let go of me. “Oh-” her eyes roamed over my body, “- I, uh, you smell good.” The slight tint on her cheeks gave me a little boost of confidence. “Is that a new soap or something?”

I couldn’t help the smirk growing on my face. “What? You go around smelling me now? Tch. Weirdo.” I glanced down as she playfully hit my chest, taking in the spandex shorts that clung to her thighs. I caught myself staring before she noticed and stepped aside so she could come in. 

“I hate you sometimes.” She walked into my room like it was her own, plopping herself down on my bed. She kicked off her shoes before making herself comfortable. “Did you pick a movie yet? Also can I borrow a sweatshirt?”

“Why do you need a sweatshirt when you’re sitting on covers,” I scoffed as I grabbed a shirt.

“Cause I don’t want to mess up your bed dummy.”

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the bed, the shirt still in my hands. “Move over idiot.” I climbed onto the bed, sitting next to her. “Should’ve brought your own sweatshirt then,” I grumbled as I lifted my arm closest to her. I shrugged off her curious look, “you always call me a heater, so I.” I trailed off as the nerves began to get the better of me.  Before I could put my arm down she leaned into my side. I let go of a tense breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding in.

Having my arm around her just felt right. Her touch set my skin ablaze, but I cou;dn’t think of anyone else I would rather hold. A comfortably awkwardness fell over us as we both shifted in silence, trying to get situated. 

“Katsuki, do you like me?” Her question took me off guard. “Sorry, probably should’ve asked better. I just- I have to know, y’know. I wasn’t sure about coming over cause watching movies alone together just seemed too much like a date.” Her voice wavered as she continued to obviously nervously ramble. “It’s fine if I’m wrong. It just Kiri is convinced that you like me.” Her small scoff tugged at my heart.

There it was. The word I was avoiding, but already knew. Like. Yeah, I guess I do like her. I’m not sure when it started, but I’ve liked her for a while now. Everyday she always seemed to find another reason to make me like her. Even now I could find at elast a dozen more reasons to like her. But liking her meant being soft and vulnerable. It’s scary. I suppressed the urge to deny what she was saying, allowing her to continue her train of thought.

“I dunno, I figured he was just saying it to make me feel better about, well, about me liking you-,”

“You like me?” I couldn’t help it, the words left my mouth in a raised tone before I could stop them. 

Y/n looked up at me for the first time since she started talking with the same dopey grin I always seemed to catch her staring at me with. “Yes sparky! I’ve been flirting with you for forever now! Geez, for someone so smart in class, you’re pretty dumb.”

I crashed my lips down onto her’s clumsily. I wanted to wipe that nerve wrecking smile off her face, but for once she left me speechless. So I did the next best thing. And man, she was better than any dream. Y/n wasted no time in returning my affections, her lips hungrily matching mine while her hand found an resting spot on my chest. 

“Will you shut up now?” Out of habit, my anger covered for my embarrassment. 

Y/n giggled quietly, completely undeterred by my outburst, “about getting Katsuki tough guy Bakugo to like me and admit it?” She pretended to think. “Not a chance,” she chuckled, kissing my cheek. 

“Shut up! I didn’t admit shit!”

“You totally did.”

“That’s it! Get out, movie night is over!”

Y/n’s laughter filled the room like sunshine as she shook her head in protest. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

She was right. Against my better judgement she stayed until morning and even some nights after. For the next couple of months we would take turns sleeping in each other’s rooms, far too ‘tired’ to go back to our own until the next morning. I still can’t remember when I started liking her, but I know when I finally officially confessed to her and when I promised myself I wasn’t going to stop. It took a lot, but it felt good to finally tell herthat I like her. Sure, I got called a total softie by her for a solid week after, but they way she almost teared up when I told her made it worth it. Well, that and the kisses that followed.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch15: This is Me

 Chapter Summary: Fliss tells Frank exactly what happened to her during her marriage.

 Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Domestic abuse and violence. Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW). NO UNDERAGE READERS PLEASE!!!!!!!

 Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

 A/N: This is a REALLY heavy going chapter, but all you regulars will know this has been brewing for quite some time. PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS! If any of those things are triggers, please avoid. If anyone is wondering, the face claim for John is an older Ben Affleck (best way I can describe) in his Batman days.  

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 14

All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

.

“Hey Titch.”  Bill greeted Fliss as she walked down the steps to the pool area he and Verity both sat at the table, him drinking a coffee, Verity pouring over a book. “You’re home early.” “Well my lessons are done.” She said, shrugging. “And, I err, I need to talk to you both.”

“What’s wrong?” Verity put her book down and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. “You’ve not broken up with Frank have you?” “What? No, no, we’re errr fine.” She sat down in the spare chair and looked at her Dad then her Mum before taking a deep breath “I got a call this morning. John’s up for Parole. His hearing is in six weeks.”

Her parents reacted exactly the way she had anticipated they would do, in a similar angry manner to her Brother who she had called after speaking to Frank. Bill made a growling noise in his throat, slamming his mug on the table whilst Verity’s right hand flew to her chest, the other reaching out to grasp at Fliss’ shoulder.

“Oh, love.” “Fucker.” Bill growled, before he shook his head and looked at Fliss “Can you appeal?” “Yeah.” She nodded “But I don’t know…” she took a deep breath “I don’t want to go back into a court room. That’s what he will want, to see me there, again…and…”

“Honey…you have to-“ “No, I don’t” Fliss cut her mother off. “Frank’s right, the days of me having to do anything are over. I’m going to speak to Greg Cullen, Frank’s friend who’s an attorney and I’m gonna look my options when the full information comes through and go from there…”

Bill nodded and Fliss didn’t miss the look he shot Verity, silently telling her to leave it.  “Sounds sensible.” he said. “So, I take it from that you’ve talked to Frank?”

Fliss nodded, “Lunchtime yeah.”

 She fell silent and Bill leaned over and gently squeezed her hand “What is it Titch?”

She looked up at him and licked her lips. “He doesn’t know everything, not how bad it got and…” she took another deep breath “I need to tell him, so, we both agreed to sit down and talk tonight but it needed to be done just the two of us. So, I was wondering….” “Of course we’ll have Mary.” Verity nodded, anticipating the question.

“We did promise to take her to the Shake Shack at some point this week.” Bill agreed “Seems as good a night as any.” Fliss smiled. “Frank’s going to explain the basics, she’s too clever not to notice something’s going on but that’s it, she won’t know any details so…”

“Okay.” Verity nodded, before she took a deep breath and stood up “I made some apple and courgette loaf…you got room for a slice?” “Always room for that!” Fliss grinned “And I wouldn’t say no to a coffee…”

Verity smiled, dropped her hand on Fliss’ shoulder as she stood up and made her way towards the house. Bill watched her go before he turned to Fliss.

“How are you really feeling?”

 “Like shit.” She said honestly “I was so upset before but Frank made me see things a little more logically once I’d finished my melt down.” “Liss, you do know this is going to be a heavy conversation.” Bill looked at her as he took a breath “Just don’t be too worried or concerned if he gets a little, I dunno, upset maybe.” Fliss nodded, she already knew that. She knew it was going to be as hard for Frank to hear as it was for her to tell him.

“But for what it’s worth…” Bill looked at her. “I’m glad you’ve got him. I’ve seen such a change in you since you met him last year, even before you started…” he made a clicking noise with his tongue and winked, causing Fliss to snort and shake her head. “He’s a good guy, and as you well know they don’t come around often.” “I know.” she chewed her lip. “Dad, you don’t think he’ll look at me any different do you, once he knows…” “Fliss, you could probably set fire to a cage full of puppies and he’d still think the sun shone out of your arse.” Bill snorted, waving off her concern.

 “Wow, that’s…dark.” Fliss raised an eyebrow.

 “Yeah, and now I think of it…he’d probably find that a little strange…and sick…” Bill mused, flashing her a wink. “But you know what I mean.” “Thanks pops.” she smiled, and Bill opened his arms and she grinned standing up. She moved to sit on her dad’s knee as he wrapped her into a hug, kissing her head.

 “Thought I got too old to sit on your lap years ago” she teased, resting her head against his.

“You’ll never be too old for a Poppa Bill snuggle.” he chuckled, rubbing her back “No matter how old you get, you’ll always be my little girl.” ***** Frank couldn’t be bothered speaking to Evelyn, he had far more pressing things on his mind. So, instead, when he arrived to pick Mary up from school he simply fired her a text message saying he would call later in the week when it was convenient to talk. To his surprise, she replied back almost immediately saying she was glad to hear from him and would Wednesday around six pm be suitable. His answer was a single word, yes, before he slid his phone back in his pocket and went in to collect Mary.

“Bit of a break in routine tonight.” he said, looking at her “Bill and V are taking you out to dinner, something about the Shake Shack?” “Yesssss!” Mary punched the air before she looked at Frank suspiciously “Hang on, why? Did you speak to Evelyn? Has something gone wrong? Did she change her mind?” “No, no nothing like that.” he shook his head “I’ve messaged Evelyn and I’m going to call her on Wednesday to sort things out properly when I can have a good discussion.” “So what’s going on?”

Frank took a deep breath, he’d agreed with Lissy he would tell Mary the basics, the very basics, so that she had a comprehension of what was happening, but he was still struggling to find the words.

 “You know that Fliss’ ex-husband…John, he went to prison right?”

 “Yeah.” “Well, he was locked up for doing some bad stuff to Fliss. Like he hurt her, a lot…” “Oh.” Mary frowned “That’s…why would he…” “Because he’s an ass hole.” Frank said simply “The point is Stack, in six week or so he’s going to go for something called Parole, you know that that is?” “No” “It’s when a prisoner is considered for early release. If John gets it, it means he will be free, but have to abide by certain rules for a while.” Mary nodded, as they reached the truck.

“So tonight me and Fliss need to talk about some stuff, about how we deal with this going forward as Fliss has a chance to give evidence at his appeal as to why he shouldn’t be let out. You following me?” Mary nodded “Evidence that proves he’s a bad guy, right?”

“Absolutely. But I don’t want you talking to anyone about this oayk? It’s private for Fliss. I’m only telling you because you have a right to understand what’s happening.” “I won’t tell anyone.” Mary nodded. “Wait, not even Roberta?” “Not even Roberta. It’s up to Fliss who she tells.”

 “But Bill and Verity will know.” “Yes.” Frank said “But I expect they’ll be upset too so…just keep it shut, please.” he ended a little lamely.

 “Okay.” Mary nodded.

They both piled in the truck and headed back to their apartment to pick up a few things for Mary, Frank having enough stashed at Fliss’ as it was before they drove over. Frank opened the gate with the fob Fliss had given him months ago, and they drove through to be greeted by Thor who was running up and down the drive chasing Bill’s terrier in some kind of odd game.

“Hey, Gorgeous.” Frank smiled as he got out of his truck and leaned down to give Fliss a soft kiss “You okay? How did they take it?” “As well as I expected. Mum kept up appearances and then left to go into the kitchen to fetch a drink so she could melt down in private and Dad, well, he was angry but…” she shrugged

“I’ve explained as well as I can to Mary” he turned his head to see her running up the drive being followed by the dogs “And I’ve told her not to mention it to anyone.”

“Okay.” Fliss nodded, her eyes also on the young girl. “Bill said after dinner, if it’s ok with you, he might take her down to the Marina to watch the night trawlers setting out. It fascinates the twins and the guys there are always happy to field their questions so…”

Frank shrugged “Yeah, if she wants. Doesn’t bother me as long as she’s in bed for a semi-reasonable hour.”

Together they made their way into the house where Bill swept Mary up into his arms in a hug as she started chattering to him about some project she was going to be working on for Girl Scouts and, after a short chat, Fliss and Frank headed back over to the annex. They made normal conversation, just like they always did as Fliss cooked them a quick, easy dinner of grilled seabass and salad, but there was an atmosphere, like a huge cloud was hanging over them. Which it was. And that the pair of them were trying to ignore it. Which they were. Eventually, when the dishes were done, the beer was opened and the wine was poured, they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Fliss told Frank to head outside and start the fire pit, which he did whilst she disappeared upstairs before returning a little later with a small, blue ring bound book, which she held on her lap as she sat next to him. "I don't even know where to start." Fliss tucked her legs underneath her on the seat as Frank threw another chunk of wood on the fire. "I suppose the beginning is the best place."

 "Usually, yeah..." Frank smiled, sweeping a piece of her hair behind her ears as he turned side ways on the wicker couch to face her.

 “Okay.” She swallowed a bit of her wine before she placed it on the table. “Right from the beginning?”

 “Whatever you want. I’ll listen.”

 She nodded, and then with a deep breath she began to talk.

“We first met at the Olympics in 2008. It was my first big break. I was only a reserve rider but I was still buzzing you know, swept away in it all.” she smiled softly “John was on the US team, had been for a while and, well, his attention and praise, I guess it flattered me. I saw him again later on that year at the International Championships and then over the twelve months or so at Badminton, HOYS...that’s the Horse of the Year show.” she explained as Frank gave her a blank look. “All the big gigs, but it wasn't until the World Equestrian Games in 2010 that we hooked up.” Frank smiled at her choice of language as she snorted. “Yup I had a Friday night fuck.”

 He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as she continued.

“I can’t describe being on the road like that, but it’s intense. You're away for weeks and its, well it’s like a different world. From then on over the next year or so we started emailing and every chance we got be it training or competitions we met up, spent time together. Then In 2011 we basically decided to try and go for it and did the whole long distance thing whilst he was living in the US, me in the UK, and when I won my medal in 2012 he declared how much he loved me and was so proud of me in the press when he did any interviews…”

Frank watched as a slight smile spread across her face, and she bit her lip as she looked back at him, shrugging.

“It was like a fairy tale.” she whispered “I got swept up in it all and then packed up and moved to Boston in the October. That November I had my accident which you know about, and I was in a back brace for twelve weeks and he was amazing.” she shrugged. “He proposed to me that December and honestly Frank, he cared and looked after me I just…I don’t know where that John went. Looking back, I often wonder if he had some kind of brain injury that turned him into an asshole.” “Don’t make excuses for him.” Frank said softly “Please…” “I’m not.” she assured him. “I just really don’t understand.” “There’s nothing to understand.” Frank looked at her shaking his head.

“Anyway, by the February in 2013 I was just starting to exercise again. God I was in a bad way. Mentally and physically. Because I’d been immobile I was out of shape, felt fat, ugly, I’d put on a good 2 stone…or…erm… 28 pounds.” She shrugged “But John, well, he didn’t care. Or so I thought. Now I look back on it I think this is where it all started.” She reached for her wine and Frank drained the rest of his beer. He glanced at the bottle and Fliss looked at him.

 “Wanna break out the strong stuff?” she asked gently.

 “Well, if any situation warrants it, I feel this one does.” He nodded smiling.

She uncurled her legs from beneath her and Frank watched her go. Normally he would offer to fetch the drinks but he sensed she needed to move, get away from the intensity for a moment so to speak so he let her go. With a sigh his head fell back, his eyes looking up at the sky which was streaked with red and purples and pinks from the now setting sun. His head was a whirlwind of emotion already and they hadn’t even scratched the surface.

Fliss emerged from the house with a bottle of Monkey Shoulder scotch and two tumblers, one filled with ice. Frank scoffed a laugh at her, it was a long standing joke she liked ice in her shorts where as he preferred them straight, something she always pulled a face at given how he couldn’t drink anything else at room temperature.

Silently she poured him a good measure and he took it from her with a thanks as she returned to her previous position and Frank shifted slightly again to face her, his right hand curled round his drink, his left resting along the back of the garden sofa they were on. She took a sip and then once more launched back into her memories.

 “We had a Ball to attend. One that the US team were holding, and I mentioned I had nothing to wear. So, John ordered me something, a beautiful sky blue gown only it didn’t fit. When I told him and got upset he said it was a genuine mistake and he’d ordered my usual size and apologised and promised to return it, but then suggested maybe I kept it as motivation to lose the weight in time for the ball at the start of May and get into it…”

“He wanted you to lose 28 pound in two months?” Frank looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Whilst you were just recovering?”

“I did it.” she shrugged in answer to his question. “I pushed myself, skipped meals…but…” Frank made an annoyed noise in his throat, but other than that made no further comment.

“There were other little things, controlling things he did as well. Like he took over the arrangements for the wedding and governed the first time I got back on a horse, told me when I could go back to work, start the training to become a Coach…all dressed up as the fact he cared and didn’t want me to rush back into things. Then one night in the September, I snapped. There was a trip organised, a conference, for the trainee Coaches intake for that year, and he told me I wasn’t going. So I bit back, and told him that he wasn’t my father and that was the first time he hit me. Straight slap, right across the face.” Frank watched as she took a sip of her drink before she shrugged. “I locked myself in the bathroom, and he sat outside the door for hours, crying, apologising, saying he was sorry, just under a lot of stress and worried about me…begged for forgiveness…pleaded with me not to call off the wedding, and you know the stupid thing?” She looked at Frank. “I always, always swore that if a man raised his hand to me, I’d be done, out of there, but I forgave him, like an idiot. And married him four weeks later, just as planned.”

She paused for a moment, shifting slightly to pull her phone out of her pocket. Frank watched her, curiously for a moment as she tapped at the screen before she handed it to him and he glanced down. It was an article, published in Your Horse magazine, or so the tag at the top told him.

‘From Olympic Rings to Wedding Rings!’ The headline read, and he scanned down, ignoring the blurb on the text, catching the odd phrase such as ‘the stars aligned’ and ‘fairy-tale romance…’ which made him want to puke as there was nothing fairy-tale about it. Eventually he reached a photo and Frank got his first look at the man he hated with every single inch of his body. He was tall, sharp jawed, quite athletic looking. Typically handsome with dark eyes and dark hair. He stood next to Fliss in his black tuxedo, his arm curled around her waist as he smiled at the camera. Fliss looked stunning. Her wedding dress was princess like, clinched in at the waist and flared out in layer upon layer of tulle which was adorned with crystals that caught the light. Her hair was twisted up off her face and she wore some kind of diamond studded headdress. She was smiling but as Frank looked closer he could see her eyes...they didn't have that sparkle he knew and loved.

 "I hated everything about the day." She said gently. "I wanted a quiet beach wedding, somewhere warm, with a simple dress, close friends, family... a big tent with fairly lights and snack food..."  

Frank smiled as what she was describing was so effortlessly her, but the smile slipped from his face as she continued.

 "...but he insisted on the full hog. Huge Boston based wedding at a church and then a sit down reception at the Harbor with a party in the evening. But that was John. Always about showing off...even my engagement ring was another way for him to display to the world what he could afford. This huge six carat brilliant cut diamond...it was gaudy."

 Frank handed her the phone and she shut the web browser down.

 "Sounds so ungrateful doesn’t it." She snorted "Most girls would kill for a day like that"

 "Most girls don’t have a guy controlling their every move" he said gently. "It's not ungrateful at all. A wedding day should be about both people, well, so I’ve heard."

 "It was a circus." She shrugged. “There were people there whose names I didn’t even know. I didn’t want the magazines there either but he talked me round, saying that if we didn’t let them in they’d simply use unofficial photos and…well, anyway that was that.”

 Frank reached over and took the empty glass off her and topped both the tumblers up, glad of the momentary distraction. As he handed her back to her she smiled and took a sip.

“Things were fine for a while, well, in that he didn’t hit me, but then in the February of 2014 we had another argument. I’d been away with the training school and they always ran updates on their websites about the conferences, and there was a photo of me laughing with one of the other guys, another competitor from the US team who was also training to become a coach. Nothing that anyone else would read anything into…but he did. Accused me of cheating and when it told him he was being ridiculous he hit me. Only this wasn’t a slap, it was a full on punch. And he fractured my cheek bone.”

 Frank took a sharp breath, and swallowed a mouthful of scotch.

 “Once again he was sorry…and then it kinda went like that for the most. He’d go weeks without hitting me and then he’d flip and wham. A slap here and a punch there…”

The flippancy with which she was describing it, like it was something that was normal, that just happened was beginning to make Frank’s blood boil. He tried not to show outwardly what he was feeling inside, but he clearly had as Fliss reached along the back of the seat to tangle her fingers into his. He gave her hand a squeeze as she continued to talk.

“That April I was scheduled for a big competitive comeback with Team GB. I had my sponsors lined up, it was being touted on the circuit as Gallagher’s Return to Glory… press interviews, and everything….you name it. And then- “ “Hang on, Gallagher?” Frank cut her off. “Did you not change your name?” Fliss shook her head. “Nope.” She studied him for a moment, smiling. “You look surprised.”

“I am. Given how controlling he was, I expected him to want you to change it.”

“I didn’t want to. It made sense for me to keep my name, it was all about the brand, see.” She shrugged. “John, surprisingly wasn’t all that bothered.” She took a sip of her drink. “Anyway, that aside…the comeback was arranged and four weeks before I was due to fly home he told me I wasn’t going. I said he couldn’t stop me. I guess he took that as a challenge as he grabbed me by the hair and shoved my hand in the doorframe of the kitchen. Slammed it shut four times. Broke three of my fingers and dislocated my wrist. So I missed out. And I never competed again, well not professionally anyway.”

 “Fuck.” Frank’s face screwed up as he shook his head “Lissy…” He trailed off as her fingers tightened around his, and he brought her hand up to softly kiss over her knuckles, almost as if doing so would take away the pain of that injury, the injury that was long healed but had left scars deep on her soul, deeper than any physical scars could go.

“That’s when it started escalating and I ended up in hospital with a broken nose in the April, that was the result of an argument about me going out, a fractured arm in the July that was because I’d dared to refuse to have sex with him in the car outside the fucking store and two broken ribs in the October which was a result of me saying I didn’t want to host a Halloween party.  A doctor at the hospital who had been looking at my records started asking questions and gave me a leaflet on Domestic Violence which, obviously I refused to take. But then, that Christmas when he insisted on spending it alone and not with my family, I dunno why but I called one of the numbers, anonymously. Started looking into it a bit more and that’s where I got the idea to keep a diary. Document it, in case I did ever want to leave and press charges.”

 She nodded to the book she had brought with her which now rested on the table and Frank looked at it, before he turned back to her.

“You know, to many people it’s so black and white. Mum and Dad were begging me to leave him but I brushed it off. I lied to my own parents, told them they’d been work accidents and that I was fine. That’s what it turns you into, a liar, but, I loved him. Well, I thought I did. Now, looking back it was more fear than anything. He’d spent so long telling me that if I left I’d be nothing that he’d find me. I believed him, so convinced myself it was easier to stay.”

She moved, placing her tumbler on the table and reached for the book and handed it to him.

 “The rest is in there.” she said softly as he too set his glass down and took the book from her gently and he was surprised to see his hands were shaking slightly. “Apparently they say over time you recall bad memories easier than good ones, and that you can also distort them, make them worse than they actually were so I stuck to facts. It’s pretty impersonal but, well…” Frank looked at the cover before he looked back at her and she nodded. With a swallow he shifted slightly, opening it.

The first entry he saw was dated January 2nd 2015 and simply stated that John had given her a slap as she hadn’t made the bed fast enough for his liking. Then there was another on January the 21st saying he had launched a crystal decanter of whiskey at her head as she’d filled it with the wrong brand. They continued along this vein until he paused at an entry for February 12th.

 Burnt me with a cigarette on my right hip because I burnt dinner.

 Frank’s jaw clenched, but he continued to read, the diary was littered with him giving her slaps and punches for whatever fucking reason the asshole wanted, but it was the big ones that sprung out at him, that made him want to be sick.

 February 17th. Grabbed my hair and banged my face into the wall because I refused sex in the living room whilst guests were in the garden for the Spring Party.

 March 21st. Whipped me with a belt after a guy was chatting me up in a bar. Drew blood.

March 22nd. Violent sex to remind me I was his.

 At that Frank stopped reading and looked at her, his voice sticking in his throat. “Violent sex. He raped you?” Fliss took a breath. “I never actually told him no but he wouldn’t have listened if I had. He left a lot of bruises.”

 “Fucking hell, Lissy…” Frank shook his head “This…that is not…” “I know.” she soothed him softly. “I know.”

He looked at her again, her eyes shining with the emotion that her voice didn’t betray. He had no idea how she could be so calm about all this, but then he realised that was more than likely her coping mechanism. That she’d probably detached herself from all of this on purpose. Because it was sink or swim. And she’d chosen to swim.

April 13th. Choked me whilst I was in the bath. Held me underwater to the point I almost stopped breathing. Stopped when Loki bit him.

April 14th. Loki dead. John said he poisoned him as a lesson to show that he was a guard dog for the house not me.

“He almost killed you.” Frank stuttered as he looked up at her, this time unable to hide his emotions. He felt his eyes swimming and he looked away as Fliss gently took his hand again and she nodded as he looked back up at her.

“The day after he killed Loki was when I took the overdose.” She said gently. “That day when he’d choked me, as I was slipping under, I felt nothing but peace, this overwhelming sense of serenity so, I saw a way out.” She took a deep breath. “That was the point at which Bill, Mum and Steve started to get really concerned, but he managed to convince them, the doctors, me that I was depressed, that it all stemmed from my accident. I don’t think my family really believed him, not fully, but what could they do?”

At that point she sniffed and Frank saw the tears form in her eyes “I put them through so much and…”

“Stop, stop.” He said, his voice cracking as he tossed the book aside and pulled her to him. She melted into his embrace, her face pressing into his chest as he held her tightly, kissing the top of her head “None of this was your fault, none of it…” She stayed still, her shoulders shaking slightly as he simply held her close, blinking back his own tears as they sat there for a moment before she pulled back.

“The rest of it is much the same. Although he eased off a bit and convinced me that trying for a baby would solved all our issues. So I went with it. Each month it failed he’d punish me when I got my period, but you know that bit anyway.”

Frank gently reached out and wiped her tears away with his thumbs as she smiled at him sadly.

“I found out I was pregnant in the January of 2016 and that was the moment I decided I needed to get out. I couldn’t bring a baby into that.” She sniffed, her eyes swimming. “I feel so guilty about that you know, that I got rid of it. It wasn’t the baby’s fault but being tied to him for ever, I just, I couldn’t. I know that’s selfish but…”

“No, it’s not selfish.” Frank held her face in his hands as he looked at her, driving his words home “You got nothing to feel guilty about, you got that? Nothing.”

There was a silence as he simply looked at her, his chest heaving with emotion as she turned her head slightly to place a soft kiss on his palm before she leaned into his touch, like a dog seeking comfort and reassurance. As if on cue Thor leapt up onto the seat in between them, forcing his way into the middle, his back turned on Frank as he licked at Fliss’ face, soft noises and whines coming from him as he did so.

 “It’s okay…” she gently laughed at the dog, stroking his head.

Frank was almost glad of the reprieve that the German shepherd had given him because he was utterly lost. He had no idea how to comfort her, or if his words would even begin to scratch the surface of what she had told him. After a moment or two Thor settled, simply curling up in between them and lay his head on Fliss’ lap as she scratched his ears and looked at Frank. “That was when I started making plans. Told my mum I was coming to Florida for a visit and needed her to book me a ticket, but she knew. She could tell this was me crying for help, so she sorted everything out and said that her and dad were coming to get me. I had the abortion on the Tuesday morning, I was booked on a flight on Thursday evening, Thor as well…it was all ready to go…but John was supposed to be away at some kind of training conference until the Friday but he came back early.  I was packing up a few things and he caught me.” She swallowed “And then, something in me snapped, like really snapped. And I let rip. I told him he was an ass hole, that what he was doing wasn’t normal and I told him all about the baby as well, how I’d gotten rid of it because he’d have been the worst father in the world and he did a number on me which you know about. He almost killed me. The police arrived, mum had tried calling me several times and when she couldn’t get hold of me she called them, turns out so had one of the neighbours as they’d heard the screaming and shouting. That was it. He was arrested and, well, I pressed charges and moved here.”

A silence fell between them, one which Frank was desperately trying to find the words to break, but failing, miserably. He wanted to kill the fucker, it was beyond him how anyone could ever want to harm a hair on her head. Not merely because she’d been helpless, and powerless to stop it, but because she was so goddamned amazing.

 “Lissy…” he eventually said, reaching out again for her hand, not missing the fact the dog was eyeing him beadily as he did so. “I don’t know what to say…what you went through, it’s abhorrent and…”

 “You know what the worse bit was?” she looked at Frank, cutting him off. “Reliving all that in court. Despite the evidence, police catching him in the act he denied it and I had to tell everyone what he had done.  He let his Attorney cross examine me, call me a liar, and then changed his plea. Simply because he could. He wanted that one last moment of humiliation and that’s why I can’t and won’t go to his hearing in person.”

 Frank was surprised, and also a little pleased to see the fire in her eyes and the absolute conviction in her tone, it was almost like she had reached a revelation, a turning point, a moment where she seized control over it all, and when she spoke again, he realised that was exactly what she was doing.

 “When I was talking to mum and dad before, I realised that I don’t wanna live my life in this state of panic and worry about what comes next. If he gets out he gets out. I can't control that. But, like my therapist said, what I can control is how I deal with it. And the only control I have is to NOT to let him control me any-more. If I go to that parole hearing he gets me in a room with him, again, and why should he?”  She took a deep breath and looked at Frank, her large brown eyes locking onto his. “I’ll talk to Greg, he can write the statement and I’ll submit it but I’m not going.”

“You don’t have to.” He shook his head.

“I just wanna...I just want to live this normal life, with you and Mary and...be Lissy. Not Felicity, Lissy. Your Lissy.”

 “You are.” he assured her. “I love you, you know that.”

 “I know, and I love you…and God did that scare me at first because, well I hadn’t been expecting it. I was done, happy on my own and then you walked into my life…or sailed into it…” At that he let out a soft chuckle. “And I know you're not that man. You're not John and that you’d never hurt me...not because you can’t but because you don’t want to.” she took another deep breath as she glanced down at Thor who was now asleep, the dog clearly sensing no threat was there “But, Frank, there’s this part of me that thinks it's too good to be true. That one day the whole thing will come tumbling down, and I know I have no reason to think that but I can’t help but be scared. We’re only five months down the line and you're already pissed off...” “I’m not pissed off at you.” He shook his head. “I’m angry at him putting you through this. And I just want you to know that I’m not perfect, I’m uncomfortable with the fact you think I am, that you think that this…us…” He waved his hand between them. “Is something special because I treat you normally. It’s special, yeah, of course it is, but that’s because it just is. Not because I’m this magical saint like human, when in fact I’m so far from that.”

 He reached over and took both her hands in his, and intertwined their fingers, looking at her. “You know, I never thought I’d ever want to settle down, that I’d ever find someone I wanted all that domestic shit with but then…I met you and…I dunno, you just…you sideswiped me Lissy, and well, yeah, it’s really early days you’re right, and what I feel for you after such a short period of time is, well, it is scary, I’ll admit that but I wanna be in this for the long run and that means we work through whatever it is together, honestly.” She smiled “So I'll tell you when I'm scared and worried about stuff and you tell me when I'm being an idiot?”

 He laughed and nodded, “Something like that.”

 She leaned over, ignoring the large dog in between them and placed a soft kiss to his lips. “Deal.”

 He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers, but before either of them had chance to do anything or say anything else, Thor pricked his ears up and shot off the seat between them, jogging to the back door. Both of them looked to see Mary walking into the yard, followed by Verity and Bill.

 “Hey.” Verity greeted them both as Fliss smiled at her mum. “You both ok?” “Yeah.” Fliss nodded. “We’re good.”

 Bill eyed Frank a little cautiously, which didn’t pass Frank by so he simply flashed Bill a little nod and saw the man relax visibly before he held up a bag.

“Mary thought you might fancy ice cream so we brought you some back from the Shack.” He said.

“It was awesome!” Mary bounded onto Frank’s knee drawing a grunt from him as she sat perched on his lap. “I had the Oreo milkshake and a huge burger with fries and…” she paused and looked at Bill “What was that stuff on them?” “Sour cream kiddo.” Bill answered and Mary made a noise of recognition.

 “Sour cream and cheese” she nodded “And then I had a cookie dough and fudge brownie sundae…” “So basically you aint gonna want to eat for a week.” Frank looked at her, and Mary grinned.

 “We got you some of the black forest because I know you love that, Titch.” Bill said “And Mary said Frank would want the peanut butter brittle.”

 “Mary was right!” Frank grinned, hi-fiving her before he stood up, slinging her over his shoulder causing her to giggle. He placed her down, his hand gently caressing the back of her head “What do you say to Bill and V?” “I already said thanks!”

 “She did.” Verity smiled “And it was our pleasure.”

 “Go get your stuff on for bed. I’ll be up in a second.” He said to her gently and it was a testament to how tired she was that she didn’t protest. She gave Fliss a hug, then Verity and Bill before she skipped inside, Thor following.

 “I’ll put that in the freezer…unless you want some now?” Fliss made to take the bag off her Dad and looked at Frank. He shook his head.

“Save it for tomorrow, Sweetheart.”

 Fliss nodded and headed inside, Bill and Verity then turned to Frank.

 “Is…she, I mean, are you…are you both…” Verity started and Frank gave her a smile.

 “We’re ok.” He assured the woman. “I promise.”

Verity nodded as Bill looked at him.

“You sure?”

 “It wasn’t nice hearing.” Frank shrugged “I’m not sure what else I can say Bill.”

 Bill nodded and at that point Fliss returned and Verity smiled at her.

 “We’ll leave you to it.” She said, giving her a hug which she returned. Bill gently clapped his hand on Frank’s shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze and Frank knew it was the man’s way of trying to reassure him somewhat.

 He wasn’t sure whether it had worked.

***** An hour or so later after a bit of TV, Fliss announced she was going for a shower and then heading to bed. Telling her he’d be up in a moment, Frank stayed where he was, simply mulling things over in his head. He prided himself on being a calm, level headed guy, able to logically see his way through most situations but this, well this was fucking with his head. He was angry, really angry that someone had put her through all of that and he was struggling to process it.

 After torturing himself for another ten or so minutes, with a resigned sigh he pushed himself off the sofa, and turned off the TV. Once upstairs he poked his head into the spare room and saw Mary was fast asleep, Thor curled around her feet. The dog looked up at him, but made no attempt to move as he turned off the lamp and headed across the small hallway to the master bedroom. To his surprise the lamp was on but Fliss was nowhere to be found.

 Now that he thought about it, he could hear the shower was still running. She must not have gotten in straight away as she’d come upstairs a good fifteen minutes or so ago. With a slight frown he headed to the door of the bathroom and gently nudged it open a touch.

 “Lissy?” he asked softly, “Baby, you ok?”

She didn’t answer, but as the steam from the water cleared Frank could make her out through the frosted glass of the screen. She was leaning on the tiles, facing the shower, one palm flat on the wall by the side of the temperature dial, the other clamped over her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking.

 Frank felt his eyes mist up again and he pulled his top over his head before shedding the rest of his clothes and stepping into the cubicle behind her.

 “Hey…” He said gently, his hand dropping to her hip, the skin slick to his touch as she turned to face him. “Come’ere…”

 She went willingly, melting into his strong arms as they curled round her and she buried her face into his chest.

 “I’m sorry…I…” She sobbed and he simply held her close, her bare skin pressed to his as the water beat down on them both, his hands gently caressing her back.

 “Let it out, I got you…” his face pressed into her hair as he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. “I got you…”

 How long he stayed there simply holding her, he had no idea. It was as if all time had stood still and nothing existed to him, nothing but the girl he was cradling in his arms. Eventually her breathing evened out and she pulled back slightly to look at him. Without a word she stood on her toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips which he took, gratefully as he brushed her sodden hair off her face.

 “Turn around baby girl.” He said softly, and she looked at him, almost questioningly.

 “Trust me…” He assured her, and she did as she was told. Frank reached round for her shampoo, squeezed an amount onto his palm and gently began to work it into her hair. He felt her relax slightly, her shoulders dropping, the tension seeping out of her as he massaged her scalp softly, the apple and cinnamon notes from the suds rising up his nostrils went a long way to calming him too.

 “That okay?” he asked her softly, and she gave a low hmmm in response, simply leaning back further so her head was almost laying against his shoulder. He felt her relax completely against him, the suds from her hair spreading to his chest. Eventually, when he’d lathered enough he gently dropped his head, the water running off his own hair onto her shoulder, as he gently spoke into her ear and asked if she was ready to rinse it off. She nodded and allowed him to guide her round so she was facing him, tipping her head back slightly against the stream from the shower and he reached up, brushing the shampoo away from her face and down her long hair, causing her to press against him.

 Eventually her hair was completely rinsed clear and he repeated the process with her conditioner, all the time making sure to talk to her, ask her what she wanted or needed, and she caught him by surprise slightly when she asked if she could return the favour. Nodding he turned around and dipped his head slightly as she gently wound her hands into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. When she’d finished he turned back to face her, dropping his head to rinse out his hair.

 “You’re gonna get it in your eyes standing this way.” she said gently, as she looked up at him.

 “Don’t care.” He said, his hands gently resting on her hips. “Just wanna see you.” 

And he did. He drank her in, every singled damned detail. Her eyes, her nose, those little freckles that at first glance you might miss, her defined shoulders, that dip in her collar bone, the line the water was tracing between her breasts, the curve of her hips…fuck he was unashamedly aching for her now, something he knew she’d spotted but hadn’t commented on.  When he looked up he caught her eyes again, and she gently reached up with her hands, the pads of her fingers cupping his face through his short beard. He stayed still as she simply studied him, before she pulled his face down to hers where he captured her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss. He let her guide him, tell him how much she wanted, or how little she wanted, his hands simply splaying across the soft skin on her back. Eventually she pulled away and pressed her forehead to his collar bone, her hands slipping round his waist as she held onto him and he was happy to let her, simply basking in the fact she was seeking his comfort.  Eventually she pulled away and took his hand in hers, examining his fingers.

 “You’re pruned up.” She said softly and he chuckled.

 “So are you.” He pointed out, pressing a kiss to her wrist. “You ready to get out?”

She nodded, so Frank reached around her, turning off the shower before he opened the cubicle door and crossed the small bathroom, reaching for a towel which he quickly ran over his hair before he wrapped it around his waist. Lifting her robe off the hook behind the door, he held it out for her and she turned and slipped her arms into it. Frank leaned around, ensuring it was wrapped tightly around her whilst she did up the belt as he lifted another towel off the rack for her hair. He began to gently squeeze the water out of her long, auburn locks, tenderly drying her hair, hands softly rubbing over her scalp as once again she tipped her head back, eyes closed. Once he’d finished he dropped a kiss to her neck and guided her back through to the bedroom.

 Fliss made her way in as Frank shut the door behind them and she padded over towards the bed before she turned and looked at him.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“Nothing.” she said, “I was just thinking.” “What about?”

 “Something you said before about how you’re nothing special because you treat me normally.”

 “I’m not.”

 “Well that’s just it.” She stepped forward towards him “You are to me…no matter how many times you try and protest otherwise.”

 “Lissy…”

 “You know everything now, and you still want me…” her voice was nothing but a broken whisper and it made Frank’s heart ache.

 “Sweetheart, I’ll never not want you.” he own voiced cracked slightly.

 “Frankie, I just…” “Look, I promise you…” his nose bumped against hers. “Nothing you told me today changes the way I feel about you. How could it? You’re so strong, and brave and…”

 “I don’t feel it.” “Well you are.” he said, his hands cupping her face “Look at what you dealt with and came out the other side…please don’t ever worry about what I think of you, because honestly I think you’re the most amazing woman on the planet.” At that she smiled softly at him, as he dropped his lips to her neck, gently ghosting his mouth over her skin “And you’re mine…”

 “Promise?” She asked, her eyes fluttering shut.

 “Cross my heart.” He mumbled, gently kissing below her ear. He felt her give a soft shudder, which he took as an encouragement and gently continued his actions, tracing his mouth down her neck to where it met the soft towel of her robe. With deft hands he reached out, and gently undid the tie around her middle, causing the robe to gape open and he ran his fingers underneath the edges before he gently shrugged it off her shoulders. He placed a soft kiss to her collar bone as he felt her hands move between them, gently pulling the edge of the towel out from where it was tucked in on itself, dropping it to the floor.

 Tenderly he took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly, his tongue guiding her mouth open and she obliged, deepening the kiss slightly as her hands moved upwards, gently tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck. His movements slow and deliberate, Frank guided them her the last few steps over to the bed and laid her down, crawling over her, before his lips moved and he chained soft kisses across her jaw line, down her neck, through the valley between her breasts. He kissed the small burn scar that lay above her right hip, the origin of which he now knew,  then across towards her belly button, simply taking his god-damned time, making sure he worshiped every single inch of her body he could get his hands on. His fingers traced her thighs and then up her curves as he moved back upwards, before capturing her lips again in a soft kiss that grew more urgent, but still stayed tender as Frank poured every single emotion he was feeling into her, wanting her to understand how he felt, how much he loved her, how much that was not going to change no matter what. His hand flexed on her hip and she let out a soft moan into his mouth making him pull back slightly, and press his forehead to hers. "I love you." He said softly "I know." She replied, voice barely a whisper. “I love you too.”

His hand moved from her hip, sliding down between her legs as he simply remained where he was, his head pressed to hers and she let out a soft gasp at his touch as he gently worked her. Before long her hips started moving in time with his motions and when he slid his fingers inside of her, curling them slightly she let out a soft cry, her back arching slightly. He dipped his head, gently paying some attention to her beasts, his tongue circling her nipple, before he grazed it softly with his teeth, another action that had her crying out, begging him for more, for all of him. And he wanted to give her what she wanted, exactly what she wanted.

Moving slightly so he was fully over her, she parted her legs further to accommodate him and he took both her hands, lacing his fingers into his and gently laid them by her head as he lined himself up. With a slow, deliberate push forwards he sank into her, and she groaned, her head dropping backwards as he dropped his head slightly, the feel of her around him was almost enough to tip him over right there and then as every single sense in his body was on fire.

 He kept his movements slow, not thrusting, rolling, rocking softly into her over and over again, pressing his body to hers. Soft moans and whispers filled the room, his lips by her ears, telling her how good she was, how amazing she felt, how much he loved her, simply lavishing praise upon her, because she fucking deserved it.

 Eventually, no matter how hard he was trying to fight it, Frank could feel the ribbons in his belly starting to unravel, the familiar tightening across the base of his abdomen was growing stronger and stronger and he knew he couldn’t hold out for long.

 "Lissy..." He half whispered, half gasped into her ear, softly nipping at her pulse point as his hips continued their gentle, deep roll into her "I'm not sure how much longer... are you close baby girl? Please tell me you're close..." She didn't answer with words, instead he felt her tightening around him and he gave another groan as she let out a soft whimper. Then, he heard it, the soft sound of his name, "Frankie.." tumbling from her lips. He nudged her nose with his, making her look at him as she gave a soft moan before she tilted her head back and let out a gentle cry as her back arched, her fingers tightened around his, and she came, her eyes fluttering shut. The sight of her underneath him, giving in to him, coming undone was enough to make him tumble over the edge right after her, gently rutting up into her he felt himself go and his movements became disjointed as he groaned and came with a shudder, utterly blissed and consumed by her.

 Both of them lay still, shaking slightly with the afterglow, and Frank pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes locked straight onto hers, his hands still tangled in hers.

Hers.

Because that’s what he was. And she was his.

 “I love you.” He’d lost count of how much he’d said that over the course of the day but it didn’t matter, because he did, and he wanted her to know. As she wiggled her hands, he released them, dropping to his elbows as she gently ran the tips of her fingers up his spine and into his hair.

 “I love you too.” she replied softly, her eye shining as he leaned down to kiss her.

 When they’d recovered, Frank settled them down as he lay on his back, Fliss safely snuggled into him, head on his chest, arm thrown over his stomach, her leg draped over his. He held her close, simply nuzzling into her hair every so often. Eventually he felt her breathing drop slightly and he glanced down to see she’d fallen asleep. He lay awake for another good hour or so simply holding her as he stared into nothingness, occasionally glancing down to make sure she was still ok. He was struggling to switch off, it had been such an intense evening, and no matter how tired he felt physically, his mind was running ten to the dozen going over everything she had told him.

But, then he felt her stir besides him and he looked down at her, her eyelids were fluttering slightly as she was clearly dreaming, but a soft smile spread on her face as she nuzzled further into him, mumbling something incoherent, and that was it. He realised, she wasn’t having nightmares about it, which was something he’d been concerned about. So if she wasn’t, then why should he dwell on it anymore?

 It was done, he couldn’t change what she’d been through, but he could damned well make sure she never went through anything like that again.

 With a sigh, he gently kissed her head again and settled down against his pillow, finally allowing his mind to close off, and the tiredness catch up with him.

***** Chapter 16

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty: The Puppeteer

Rated: PG-13 (Themes of insanity, graphic imagery, and violent thoughts. This is sort of an age gap relationship but keep in mind that the physical ages of both parties differs from their cognitive age. Martina is cognitively 20 and Jack is cognitively 18.)

(Author's note: Remember that Martina manipulates emotions...)

Masterlist

~I counted the stars tonight Oh, how they shine so bright I gather them all, so we perfectly align

While we gaze from far away And separately watch the day Come rising across the horizon in our minds

But now I know my heart is strong Where you belong is by my side So will you hold? 'Cause time is cold But in your soul, I'm standing by~

"It's okay, Jack. It's a crooked kind of perfect. I think I like it better now."

Then she turned and left the shed and Jack buried his head in his hands. Guilt was a crushing thing and now it was crushing him.

Why hadn't he gotten there sooner? If he had, then she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Max had led them to four wrong sheds before they finally found this one. But that wasn't on her. Max had just been trying to help. It was his fault. Jack had been the one to rush off and leave her all alone. He had promised that he would never leave her but he'd broken his promise! Would Marty hate him now?

Jack thought about the way she had looked when the fight was over.

Marty had looked like she had the day they had found her. She looked absent, detached, vacant, alive but not awake. Like the lights were on but no one was home. It wasn't the same as when she had purposefully demonstrated that emotionless act like she had earlier; like there wasn't even a person inside. This was a different kind of emptiness. It was more like Marty was hiding because she didn't want to face what had happened, and then she was lost because she couldn't find herself again. He had seen that emptiness before, on a hunt.

Sam had called it shock.

Marty hadn't even flinched when she picked up that vampire's head. There hadn't been much emotion in her when she had talked about the former owner of that head. Nor when she had talked to the head like it was some sick sort of ventriloquist dummy. But Jack had seen her eyes, and in them, he'd seen hate among the emptiness.

Just thinking of what Marty had said about the vampire she'd called Boyd made Jack's blood boil beneath his skin. The thought of that thing - that monster - touching her, made him angry. That thought made him so angry he didn't even have the words to express it.

The anger - the rage - the sheer undiluted hate that Jack felt coursing through his veins couldn't be described. He had never felt hate so strongly before, not even for the monsters or the angels in the apocalypse world. This kind of hate was new. It made him want to do something horrible. This hate burned him. This hate made Jack want to hurt the monster that had hurt Marty. Not just hurt it - no, no - that wouldn't be enough for him. This hate pushed him to do more than just hurt or kill. This hate was more than a want or an urge - this hate inside him was a craving. The kind of pain that Jack craved to inflict upon that monster was downright unfathomable, unthinkable, vile to the absolute purest definition of the word. Jack craved to make that monster pay.

He sat on the floor of the shed with his fists clenched as tight as his jaw, staring steadfastly at the corpse of the vampire that had hurt his friend and contemplating the reattaching of that vampire's head and subsequent resurrection of the thing just so he could watch as he slowly burnt it alive and twisted its horrid limbs into knots. How dare that thing lay one rotten finger on her. Jack desperately wished he could kill it again.

Because Marty was his.  She was his sister and even if she couldn't be anything more, he felt the need to protect her like she was. Jack decided that no one else should ever get to touch her.  Ever. From now on, that was how it was going to be. That was the new rule. Nobody gets to touch Marty except for him.

Jack wanted to go find her now. The thought of that vampire touching her made Jack want to touch her and make that thing's touch go away. Jack needed to go find her and make sure she was okay. But his family was talking about her so he decided to stay a little longer to listen.

"This is wrong," Dean muttered as he looked over the mess of scattered corpses Marty had left behind, "No way one kid does all this. No way."

"Did you see Martina's eyes?" Cas asked, shaking his head at the thought. "When she picked that vampire's head up and talked to it like it was a puppet, did you see her eyes?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." If Jack didn't know better, he would have thought Dean sounded scared.

"They looked like a demon's," Cas added. This time, Dean shook his head.

"No, not like a demon's - not evil like a demon's, not necessarily. No, just... empty. Just empty, like Sam's when he lost his soul..." Dean trailed off, shaking his head while Sam just sort of stood there, looking uncomfortable.

"A soulless empath?" Cas questioned, "Is that even possible?"

Dean shrugged.

"I dunno, man! I dunno," He said with a huff, "All I do know is that there somethin' very dark inside that kid." He shuddered.

"D-dark? What-what do you mean?" Sam cut in.

"For her to do this -" Dean gestured to the carnage "- all by herself... Sammy, I don't know if she's souless or not, but there sure as Hell is something broken in there.  This  ain't self defense. This was rage. I don't know what's goin' on with that girl, but Marty ain't right in the head."

"But we can't let her go now." Sam's voice might have been quiet but its tone was made of iron.

"I dunno, Sammy..."

"We made her a promise, Dean! We can't break it!" Sam argued, "So what if she's a little broken? We all are! But there is good in her just like there's good in all of us."

"Look around you, Sam!" Dean gestured to the corpses. "I'm not talking about depression or a hero complex here. We're talkin' bonafied nuts! Full-on Loony-Tunes!"

"Based off of Martina's behavioral patterns, we could very well be dealing with a sociopath," Cas spoke up calmly.

"Even if that's the case, she's still just a kid! " Sam said, pleading. "A-and, you know what? So what? We've dealt with worse threats than a sociopatic-empath-kid! And since we found her, Marty's been getting better. Every day she get's better - I've seen it! Jack makes her better. He brings her out of things like this. Maybe he can fix her. I think he should talk to her, you know, s-see if she's okay."

"No." Cas shook his head, firmly.

"W-why not?"

"Because I said no," Cas repeated.

"Cas, you've seen how she responds to him. If one of us goes out there, we might just make it worse," Sam reasoned.

Jack stood and left the shed then. Marty needed him and he wasn't going to waste any more time listening to them argue.

"Jack wait!" Cas called out.

"No."

"I said wait!" The angel's tone was a command, not a request.

Jack did not stop. "And I said no!"

Cas reached out and snagged Jack's arm, yanking him back. "We don't know what Martina is truly capable of! This may be just the beginning."

"I don't care! Marty's my friend," Jack ripped his arm free from Cas's grip. "And if I can help her, the rest doesn't matter."

Jack left his family standing in the shed with the vampire corpses, bewildered that Jack had just disobeyed.

"Did he just hit his terrible two's or is this the rebellious teenage years?" Dean asked the others after Jack had left.

Jack found Marty rather easily. She was sitting in the snow curled up with her chin on her knees and her back pressed against the shed's metal siding. She stared at the rose that she twirled between her fingers.

"Hello," Jack said, raising his hand. Marty didn't reply, she just stared at her rose. "Are you alright?" He tried again.

Marty sighed, yet still, she didn't move. She just considered the bloody rose like it meant something greater than it did like it held the answers.

"Do you think I'm crazy, Jack?" She asked him, her voice soft and childish. Jack hesitated.

"Well, do you?" He returned, carefully. Marty's lost yet tranquil expression crumpled into a frown.

"I don't know," She whispered, laying the rose lightly on the snow, "I didn't used to think so but..." She trailed off, gazing into the middle distance with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"But what?" Jack sat down beside her and noticed the frosty trail of a tear on her pale skin. He brushed it away.

The simple action was enough to send a shiver down the angel boy's spine. Although the rosy hue tinting the tip of Marty's nose and cheeks was a testament to the frosty temperature; the shiver that ran down Jack's spine, leaving residual sparks lingering in his fingertips, had nothing to do with the cold. Jack studied Marty's winter-nipped rosy complexion. She looked very pretty and something about it made Jack's chest warm.

"But I don't know anymore." Marty seemed to come out of her trance, eying him warily. "Is that bad?"

Jack shook his head. "I wouldn't know."

"They think I'm crazy." Her voice broke and so did Jack's heart. "Cas and Dean - I heard them say I'm broken."

"No! You're not broken, you're amazing!" Jack grabbed her hands but she shook her head, averting her gaze.

"I killed them," She mumbled.

"You had to; they were monsters."

"So, I'm not broken?" Marty asked. Jack shook his head, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I don't think so. At least, no more than anybody else is," He replied, "No more than I am."

She nodded and was silent. Acting completely on impulse, Jack reached out, wrapping his arms around her torso, he pulled her into his lap. Marty didn't complain.

"Jack?" She spoke up a while later.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong with me?"

Jack sighed. Was this what talking to him was like?

"Nothing is wrong with you, Marty. You're perfect." He stated it like it was a fact and to him, it was.

"So, why don't I feel guilty?" She shook her head. "I killed them and that should earn me some measure of guilt, right? But instead of feeling bad, I don't feel anything. I should feel scared or shocked or angry but I don't. I don't feel anything."

Jack frowned. "Sam says that numbness can be part of shock."

She shook her head again, her eyebrows pulling together.

"No, this isn't numbness. It's not that I feel empty, I just feel indifferent." Marty's breath caught and panic rose into her voice. "It's like I'm back in Copper Harbor again. I couldn't feel anything there either! I want to feel something but I can't and there's just nothing! I wanna feel something but I can't feel anything!"

"Whoa, whoa! Hey! You're okay!" Jack tried to calm her but his efforts were futile. She shot up from his lap, stumbling forward in a discombobulated state of panic. Marty gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she raked her hands through her jet-black hair and tugged at the roots as if trying to tear it out.

"I didn't feel anything till I met you guys and I don't wanna go back to nothing! Why did I never feel anything? There has to be something wrong with me!" Marty twisted to face him. Her grey eyes were dark and turbulent clouds just before a great tempest. Not angry, but powerful and natural, beautiful in a way that commanded respect. Yet she was still vulnerable, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Jack, what's wrong with me?! "

She gazed at him with wild desperation in her eyes and Jack felt his heart sinking in his chest. He had no words for her and he felt useless. Jack couldn't give her the answer. So, he just shook his head and pulled her close again, guiding her face into the crook of his neck and holding the sweet girl in his arms like she was made of glass. Feeling Marty's body flush against his ignited those sparks inside of him but he tried his best to ignore them.

"You're okay, just focus on me!" He said, rubbing circles on her back like Castiel sometimes did for him. Marty's breathing seemed to even out a little.

"Jack, I'm scared," She whimpered against his neck. He could feel her lips brushing against his skin and he felt this tugging sensation in his stomach. It felt good, Jack realized. The sparks exploded inside of him. He wanted more. But he pushed it down. Marty needed him and he had to focus. It took quite a bit of effort to ignore it.

"Why are you scared?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"I think I'm going insane."

Jack wasn't sure about that, but Marty's lips moving against his neck was definitely driving him insane. It felt so good, so unbelievably  right! Ugh! Why couldn't he just focus on the moment at hand? He caught a strand of her hair and started twirling it around his finger in an attempt to both calm her and distract himself from this blissful feeling. It didn't work. Marty made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob, her warm breath fanning against his neck. Jack's hands acted on their own accord, gripping her waist tighter. He simply couldn't stop himself and he found that, honestly, he didn't want to. Jack liked touching Marty this way. This new feeling that was sprouting inside him felt amazing. But it was hard. Keeping his breathing under control nearly caused him physical pain.

"W-why would y- um- you think that? O-other than Dean and- a-and Cas?" It was too difficult for him to focus. He  had  to put some distance between their bodies, but that was hard when distance was absolutely the last thing he wanted. With all the willpower he had, Jack tried to gently push Marty away, just enough to look at her. But Marty didn't want to move, she clung to his shirt like it was a lifeline and Jack simply didn't have the strength to try to push her away again.

"I'm forgetting things, Jack," She choked out.

Jack's heart kept on breaking for her but these sparks inside him were making him ecstatic. He couldn't help it. He felt  so  bad and  so  good at the same time. It was  so  frustrating! Would it really be so wrong to indulge this feeling? Maybe if he gave the sparks what they wanted, then they would calm down?

Jack tangled his fingers in the hair at the base for her neck, tugging a little because it felt right and he wanted to. He turned his face towards her hair and took a deep breath. He had taken the blood away when he'd healed her and her hair smelled perfect. It made him smile.

"What are you forgetting?" He asked softly, speaking into her ear.

"I remember being kidnapped but then - nothing. There's nothing after that! It was like I woke up out here and then I heard them say that I'm broken and I think I really am!" She was panicking again, her breaths quickening against his neck. It was maddening. His grip on her waist tightened again.

"No, no! Shh! It's okay, you're okay!" He tried to calm her. Jack did have to admit that what she'd said didn't sound good. Memory gaps are never a good thing, at least in his experience.

"No, I'm not! I'm not okay! Jack, I can't remember what I did!" Marty clutched onto him even tighter, anguish filling her voice. "I know I killed them, I just can't remember doing it! That's why I can't feel anything! And this isn't the first time this has happened!"

Marty pulled away from him then, and Jack's breath caught in his throat.

'When did you get so beautiful?' He thought. Even with tears streaming down her face, Jack couldn't remember seeing a more beautiful girl. She was perfect. How had he not noticed this before?

Jack let his eyes roam over her face, drinking it all in.

She was so wonderful and she didn't even know it. How little she saw of her own beauty. All Marty could see were her flaws but Jack thought they made her even more beautiful. If only she could see it.

Marty opened her mouth to speak but Jack pressed a finger to her lips. He tried his best not to think about how soft they felt under his finger and focus instead on what Marty needed from him.

"Don't talk," He said, "It's okay to be scared, Marty. But you are an amazing person, and you're so pretty and I wish you could see that. So, if you're broken, then you're the most beautiful broken thing I've ever seen. Whatever is happening to you, we're gonna find a way to fix it. I promise."

Marty shook her head, closing her eyes like she couldn't even look at him. "I think I'm losing my mind."

The response tumbled from Jack's lips before he'd even thought about it.

"Then I'll help you find it again."

Marty looked up at him then, furrowing her brow like she couldn't believe anyone would say that to her, let alone mean it. She was like a porcelain doll, her perfection was a delicate illusion. Jack could see the fractured glass of Marty's soul through her eyes. Broken pieces like shattered glass just waiting for someone to mend them; Jack felt like that sometimes.

"What if you can't? What if you can't fix me? Jack, I don't think this is something you can fix," She sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself like she was holding herself together. Jack smiled gently at her.

"Well, I suppose if you cannot look on the bright side, then I will sit beside you in the dark," He said, quoting what she had said to him the night before. Their talk by the lake house seemed so long ago now.

"Ironic," She huffed, laughing just the slightest bit.

"What is?"

"That quote," She answered, shrugging, "The Mad-Hatter says it. He's crazy."

"Oh." Jack knew who the Mad-Hatter was; he had seen Alice in Wonderland, the Disney cartoon at least. He guessed that probably wasn't the best thing for him to have said.

"I like him though. He's my favorite book character." She frowned again. "Guess I know why now; I'm just like him."

"No, you're not." Jack shook his head. "You don't wear a top-hat!"

Marty rolled her eyes and shook her head, cracking a wry smile. "Yeah, okay."

Jack felt the sparks shooting through him as he pulled her close again. Unfurling his massive, powerful, metaphysical wings, he wrapped them around Marty's tiny, fragile body, encasing her in their warmth and softness. It felt right. This was where she was supposed to be. He wanted to keep her there forever.

Jack wanted to keep her forever.

"Even if you do go crazy, I'm not going to leave you," He breathed, petting her hair, "I'm gonna be here every step of the way."

'I'm never gonna leave you again.' He silently vowed.

The sun sank lower until it dipped below the white Kansas horizon as Sam, Dean, and Castiel worked to remove the vampire corpses from the property of whoever owned the shed. Jack made sure to block the bodies from Marty's view, instead directing her gaze upward.

"Marty!" He nudged her gently and she glanced up at him, "The stars are out."

Marty angled her head towards the night sky and Jack grinned as he watched that wonder-filled expression bloom across the girl's face, just as it always did whenever she looked out into the cosmos. Her eyes reflected the starlight from above and so did her soul. Jack could see the soft, pure light, twinkling and pulsing within and around her, just like a star. Marty's soul could have been made of starlight.

"They're beautiful here," She said, her voice soft.

"What do they remind you of tonight?" Jack asked. Marty's face scrunched up as she thought and Jack waited, patient and eager, to hear whatever thought's her beautiful mind would give him.

"You," She sighed after a while, "Tonight they remind me of you."

Jack's brows pulled together, expressing his confusion. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you're ninety-three percent stardust," She replied. Marty shared a secret smile with the sky, tilting her head a little and keeping her eyes on the stars above. "

"Oh," Jack said, his tone laced with surprise and a bit of confusion. "Thank you."

Marty shook her head. "No, Jack. Thank  you. "

"For what?"

"For saying that you'll stay with me, no matter what," She sighed, "And coming to rescue me. And for telling me I'm okay." Jack shrugged.

"Anyone would have done that."

Marty shook her head.

"No, not anyone. That vampire who claimed to be my friend - she never rescued me. All of her promises were empty."

Jack didn't know what to say, so he opted for a silent nod.

"Ik hou van je, zoet wezen," Marty whispered, her voice so quiet he almost didn't catch it.

"What does that mean?"

"It's Dutch."

"Okay." He nodded like that was an acceptable answer. "But what does it mean?"

"Not telling!" She smirked up at him. He shrugged and nodded before tilting his head down to whisper in her ear.

"Ego autem semper defendat vos, stella-puella."

He promised because he meant it.

Marty twisted around to face him, a playful frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Okay, what was that?" She asked. Jack shrugged innocently and hoped the dim starlight would hide the fierce blush spreading across his face.

"Latin."

"What?"

"You're not the only one who can speak another language!" He defended. Marty didn't look amused.

"Latin's a dead language," She claimed.

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's not."

"It totally is."

"Well, I speak it and I'm not dead." Jack grinned at the glare she was giving him.

"So what's it mean then, oh wise half-angel one?"

"Not telling!" He chirped. He should have known better.

Marty huffed and rolled her eyes before turning away again. Then she jabbed her elbow straight back into Jack's stomach.

Jack groaned, rubbing his side.

Marty had very boney elbows. It was very painful.

"Moron," She chuckled under her breath.

"Pipsqueak."

"I can hit you again."

"Please don't."

~I counted the stars tonight Oh, how they shine so bright I gather them all, so we perfectly align

While we gaze from far away And separately watch the day Come rising across the horizon in our minds

And now we know, our hearts are strong Where we belong is side by side And so we'll hold each other close And in our souls, we're standing by~

Lyrics from: Standing By by Pentatonix

Translations:

Ik hou van je, zoet wezen = I love you, sweet creature

Ego autem semper defendat vos, stella-puella = I will always protect you, star-girl

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Opposites Attract 

Warren Worthington III x Female Reader

Request 1:  Brooooo i’ve got a boyfriend was amazing! like you don’t understand how much i loved it. if you ever have time can you do like a continuation piece of fluff with warren and the reader or like when they met and became a couple? like same mutant and stuff

Request 2:  Aww I loved the one shot with mother nature and Warren! I loved how her eyes turned pink, when she saw Warren! I'd like to know more about them. Could you give us a little fluffy glimpse into their relationship? Thank you, my dear! You're amazing! 💕

I also may make a little fluffy fic about these two later! (also i know I’ve used this gif before, oh well)

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of sex

Word Count: 7.9k

 Ever since she was little, (Y/N) had a green thumb. Her parents had her play outside, help them do yard work, and she had her own collection of house plants from a young age. 

It wasn’t until she started getting older that things started to change. Maybe be more than just a “green thumb.”

Leaves grew in her hair and vines wrapped around her legs. Her eyes started changing color based on her mood. She looked like a woodland creature. 

-

With high hopes and her bags packed, she went to Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. To find someone like her, or just find a place to fit in. 

Her eyes were green and she was ready to meet new people. 

-

(Y/N) fit in great. Her roommate could control the weather, which made their room a true plant haven, and she had a whole group of friends— and if you asked, no one could find anything bad to say about her. 

“She’s so sweet! She gave me some daisies when I was having a bad day.” 

“(Y/N) helped me study for my math test. I got a 92 because of her.”

“(Y/N) threw a surprise party for my birthday. It was wonderful!” 

Everyone liked her, and she liked everyone. Her eyes were almost always green and yellow— meaning she was happy and excited. 

But one day they weren’t green and yellow. 

-

“Alright, everyone. Your partner for the project is listed on the board. You can get to work.” (Y/N) looked over the list eagerly, excited for the inevitable mountain of work she’d be splitting with someone— it would be a good bonding experience. 

Her eyes scanned the list until she spotted her name. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) & Warren Worthington. 

(Y/N) glanced at him. Warren was pulling books out of his bag, earbuds in. 

I don’t… I don’t know Warren that well. This will be a great opportunity for me. We have lots of mutual friends, so this should be easy. 

“Hi.” 

Warren paused his music and pulled out an earbud, “Hey.” 

“We’re partners.”

“Right, right. Sit down.” She pulled up a chair and set her notebook on the desk. “So I was thinking since we have to talk about a political issue, we could do something that has lots of information available. Women’s rights, climate change, issues with the 1%, the problem with the rising trend of plant-based diets, mutant rights…” Warren didn’t say anything. He just listened. “We don’t have to do anything I listed, they’re just suggestions.” 

“Okay… We could do something on mutant rights. That’s probably the easiest since we’re mutants.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, that works with me.” She wrote down their paper topic and the due date in her notebook. “I’m not sure if we’ll get enough time in class to work this week so I’ll give you my number.” Warren got on his phone and opened a new contact.

He held it out to you, “Here, just put it in.” 

You took it from his hands and typed in your name and number. You handed the phone back to him and moments later you got a text from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: This is Warren. 

(Y/N): Hi! This is (Y/N)

He didn’t text back. “Okay, so I’m gonna make a google doc and share it with you.” Warren nodded. 

(Y/N) had a small, lopsided smile on her face. “You don’t talk much do you?”

“I talk.” 

“Yeah, but— I meant… Never mind.”

Warren raised his eyebrows. He knew exactly what she meant. But people weren’t supposed to like him. Warren was evil and scary. Sure, not as much as he used to be, but the school’s Disney princess didn’t need an interest in him. Jubilee and Jean would just yell at him for it, plus a good 30% of the school shipped her with Kurt, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that. 

As the bell rang, dismissing everyone from their class, Warren noticed (Y/N)’s eyes were slightly different as she left his desk. They had a slight bit of pink to them. 

What does pink mean? 

-

“I think he hates me.” (Y/N) announced as she face-planted onto Jubilee’s bed, letting vines grow and cover her like a blanket. 

“Who?” Jubilee asked. 

“Warren! We’re partners for the history paper thing and he, I dunno— he didn’t seem to want to be my partner.” 

Jubilee looked at her sulking friend, “That’s it?”

“I don’t get it! We’re in the same friend group, we probably have similar interests, and I’ve never been rude to him.” 

“He’s probably just tired. School is stressful, and I’m sure he just doesn’t want more work on top of everything he already has to do. I’m sure you have nothing to do with it.”

(Y/N) groaned into the pillow, “I can’t get a bad grade, and if he doesn’t like me then that makes things awkward in our friend group.”

Jubilee laid next to her, face up. “It’s Warren… he’s… he’s got some trauma and other issues. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually… Not everyone’s going to break down their walls after one conversation.” 

(Y/N) groaned against and wrapped her makeshift leave blanket tight around her body. 

“I’m going to get some food… Please take your vines with you when you leave.”

“Yes, mom.” (Y/N) mumbled.

-

“What’s her motive?” Warren asked Peter. Peter shrugged. “There’s no way she’d be nice to me just to be nice.” 

“I dunno, man. She’s nice to everyone, and I’ve never heard one bad thing about her. She yelled at me and her eyes turned red once, but that’s about it.” He took a bite of his sandwich, “Why do you even care anyway?” 

Kurt and Scott sat down with them, interrupting their conversation. 

“Shh! Not now…” Peter waved them off to make them silent. “Answer my question, Worthington.”

“Cause I’m not a good person. (Y/N) shouldn’t want to try and be my friend. Too many people would get upset about it. Do you know how many people want her to date, Kurt? Tiffany Jones DMed me on Instagram telling me to not ruin that. Tiffany Jones! We’ve never even spoken to each other! I didn’t even know she followed me.” 

Peter held back an eye roll. Warren was a good person, despite his past. Would he ever realize this? Probably not. 

“Okay well, (Y/N) is just kind to everyone. It fits her whole “Mother Nature” vibe she’s got going on. Just don’t be a dick to her and you’ll be fine.”

“She wants to date me?” Kurt asked and his cheeks were slightly violet and flushed. 

“No, Kurt,” Warren interjected. “People want you two to date. It’s like Stranger Things— some people wanted Nancy to date, Johnathan, others wanted her to date, Steve. They shipped her with someone. People do it with you and (Y/N), and it’s kinda weird but to each their own, I guess.” 

“Oh... But why me? Why not you or someone else?”

“Because you’re both liked by everyone, and you’re nice to everyone. I’m like... Rodrick from Diary of a Wimpy kid; (Y/N) is a Disney princess. We wouldn’t mix.” 

Peter and Scott tried holding back snickers, as Warren was kinda right. He was a punk emo with daddy issues, and he wasn’t half bad with a drum set.

“Don’t opposites attract?” 

Warren waved him off, “That’s a myth.” 

Kurt shrugged, “Andy and April from Parks and Rec worked out.” 

“They’re fictional, and (Y/N) could date almost any guy here. Why would she want to date me?” 

Silence. “She doesn’t. End of story. She’s just overly nice and I thought for a moment maybe someone was forcing her to be or she like, wanted to sleep with me or something.” Warren shrugged, “I dunno.” 

“You sound like the plot of a Tame Impala song.” Warren threw a grape at Scott’s head, missing him by an inch or so. “Hey! Just because I’m calling you out for obsessing over a girl doesn’t mean you can get mad at me. I could have gotten hurt!” 

“Dude, it’s a grape. Plus you have glasses on. You would have been fine,” Peter said. 

“It’s the matter of the thing.” Peter rolled his eyes at his roommate’s dramatics.

“You know I wouldn’t purposely hurt you.” Warren reminded him. 

“Still… You can’t get mad because a cute girl is being nice to you.” 

“I’m not mad, I’m confused. There’s a difference.” 

Scott nodded mocking him by agreeing, “Uh-huh… And in about a week you’ll be gushing over how amazing she is and how you’d do anything for her, and how you could just watch her do nothing all day.” 

“That’s you. You described yourself.” 

Scott raised his eyebrows as he played with the fry in his hand. “And? I know I’m whipped, I don’t care— You on the other hand…” Warren glared at him. Scott smirked and popped the fry into his mouth. 

“What color were her eyes when you talked to her?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know, uh, green? Aren’t they almost always green?”

Scott nodded, and Peter continued talking. “Yeah, but I was just curious. If she really didn’t want to be nice to you just because then maybe her eyes would have been like brown or something— I dunno. There’s a million different options.”

As Peter was going on and on about (Y/N)’s eyes changing color, Warren’s mind started to drift off to their interaction in class. 

Her eyes were green, but they weren’t pure green… 

“You don’t talk much do you?”

Warren’s eyes met hers, “I talk.” 

“Yeah, but— I meant… Never mind.”

Her eyes were pink. Only for a little while, and Warren almost thought he imagined it— but he didn’t. There was no way. 

But what did pink mean?

“What does it mean if her eyes turn pink? Like a millennial pink sort of.” 

Peter furrowed his brows as he thought for a moment, “You know… I don’t know… I don’t think her eyes have ever turned pink before.”

“Oh.” Warren frowned a little. He was expecting Peter to know, or at least have a vague idea.

-

Warren was showering when his phone dinged. He only had sound on when he wasn’t 100% available, in case of an emergency. 

He held his arm out to grab his phone and keep it from getting wet.

(Y/N): Hey, Warren! 

He sighed, it was just (Y/N). Nothing major. 

Warren: What’s up?

(Y/N): Want to work on the paper together? Ororo ran to the store with Raven so my room is available.

Warren debated for a few seconds whether or not he should go. He didn't have anything else to do, and it wasn’t that late. 

Warren: Sure. I’ll be down in about 20 mins.

(Y/N): *thumbs up emoji*

Warren smiled to himself before finishing his shower.

-

(Y/N) tried to make the room look presentable as possible, which was hard to do with all the plants everywhere— on her side and Ororo’s. 

There was a knock on the door. (Y/N) glanced in the mirror, making sure she didn’t look too frazzled. Then she opened the door to let Warren in.

His hair was damp and he smelt like a vanilla candle, he wore sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. One large enough to hide his wings in, so there were no holes cut in the back. 

“Hi! I hope wasn’t interrupting you or anything…” 

He shut the door behind him, “No, I was just in the shower.” He glanced around the room. Warren had been in it before, most of the time to hang out with Ororo, but he never really paid attention to (Y/N)’s half. Her side of the room was covered in fairy lights and plants. A lot of plants. 

“Sit wherever you want. Just kinda ignore all the plants—“ Some of the vines hanging around her bed moved as she sat down. 

“Okay.” He sat down in the desk chair. 

“So… I got a couple of news articles dealing with mutant rights— one about the adoption laws varying from state to state… another about some of the protests in Chicago due to the girl with gills getting fired from her job…” 

-

Surprisingly, Warren and (Y/N) finished their paper sooner than they thought they would. “I’m gonna send it to Jubilee so she can give criticism since she’s in honors.” 

“Sounds good.” (Y/N) nodded, typing away on her laptop.

Then Warren’s stomach growled. He blushed. 

“Sorry— I didn’t eat after training…”

“You skipped dinner?” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t that hungry and I took a shower. I didn’t really eat lunch either… I’ve been kinda preoccupied—“ 

“What the hell?! You have to eat! Your body needs nutrition! You of all people should know that— you’re like, 90% muscle.” 

“It’s just one time.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on— we finished our paper. You’re getting something to eat.” 

-

(Y/N) held Warren’s hand as she dragged him into the kitchen. They received a few weird stares, but it didn’t concern her. 

How could Warren be so careless?

“Sit.” She pointed to a bar stool.  “I’ll make something.” Warren nodded and sat down. 

“Do you have any food allergies?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“Great, I’ll make something basic.” (Y/N) looked through the fridge before settling on the cheese. 

Grilled cheese is easy enough. Plus I can make myself one. 

She turned on a stovetop and put the buttered bread on the pan. 

She grabbed two plates from a cabinet using the vines from her arms— they extended to reach and wrap around the plates and set them on the table. Warren watched in awe. It looked effortless— kind of like when telepaths move things with their mind, they make it seem like anyone could do it.

“Does it take effort? Manipulating plants?” 

(Y/N) shook her head as she set Warren’s sandwich on a plate, and got her’s onto the pan. “Not the vines on my body. Other plants, though, it depends. If I’m just moving a vine or tree branch out of my way, that’s easy, but to have a sapling grow into a fully formed oak tree? That takes a bit more energy. Sometimes in my sleep I accidentally cause plants to grow— I’ll wake up next to an apple tree, or even a pumpkin or watermelon.”

“Really?” He was surprised. 

“Yeah. Also, the weather can affect me too. If it’s sunny out and the plants are thriving, I’m usually more awake and can do more without feeling weak, but if it’s cold and cloudy or even snowing, it takes a bit more effort.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes were a vibrant green and yellow, you could tell she was excited to tell someone about her mutation. She looked genuinely happy to talk about it. 

“That’s really cool. I didn’t know you could do all that.” 

He swore her eyes flashed a bit of pink again, but it could have been the lighting. 

“No one really asks… and besides, you can’t really use plants in the danger room.”

“I bet you could…” Warren offered.  “If you found a way.” 

She glanced down at her sandwich, “Maybe…” 

“Can I ask you something else?”

She looked up and nodded. Her eyes definitely had some pink now. Warren didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to ask. 

“What’s up with you and Kurt?” 

“Oh— Oh, um, I mean it’s nothing.” Her eyes were purple as she spoke, “People started some rumors after I helped Xavier as his TA for Kurt’s English class, and no one wanted to read for Juliet so I read for her and people decided to ship us. We’re not actually dating.” 

“That was a while back… people still haven’t let that go?” 

She shook her head, “Plus, people think ‘Oh, Kurt’s so innocent, and (Y/N) is too. They’d make a great couple.’ Which is dumb because guys and girls can be similar and just be friends.”

“Yeah, but a lot of people want you guys together. I had a girl DM me on Instagram to not get in the way of it.” 

(Y/N)‘s eyes widened in surprise, “What? Why?” 

“I dunno. I guess she thought I’d pull off some like, fuckboy moves or something.” 

“But you’re not a fuckboy! You haven’t even dated anyone since you came to school here— and I know that’s by choice. There’s at least twenty girls here who’d love to have your tongue down their throat.” 

Warren blinked at her bluntness. He was not expecting that. “I mean… you’re not wrong…” He had a faint idea of who some of the girls were, but he figured ignorance was bliss. If he knew for sure who they were, Warren wasn’t sure he could look them in the eyes. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, there’s a good number of guys interested in you… why aren’t you dating one of them?”

“I don’t want to. I mean sure, there’s tons of cute guys, but I just don’t think it would work out. Plus, too many people would kill them if they weren’t Kurt,” (Y/N) joked. 

Warren smiled, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He got up, carrying his plate to the sink. 

“I’ve also never had a boyfriend before.” 

He looked at her, curious. “That can’t be true. You’ve never had a boyfriend before?” 

“Nope. I’ve kissed people before and stuff… but, I dunno…”

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing… Guys can be dumb as shit sometimes.” 

(Y/N) laughed, “Trust me, I know.” 

Warren rose an eyebrow while setting (Y/N)’s plate into the sink. 

“Scott, a  prime example of a dumb boy in a relationship.” 

Warren snickered, “Super smart but dumb as shit check!” 

(Y/N) shook her head, pretending to be disappointed but she had a smile on her face, “God we’re so mean.” 

“A little, but it’s Scott… a little harmless teasing won’t hurt.”

“I guess so.” 

Warren washed his hands and dried them with a towel. “Wanna go back up to my room? Or do something else?... It’s only 7:00.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

-

Peter and Kurt were in Warren’s room, which he shared with Kurt, when he entered with (Y/N). 

“And where have you two been?” Peter asked, pretending to act like a stern and concerned parent. 

“We finished our paper and I made grilled cheese.” 

“Grilled cheese, huh? No… ulterior motives?” Peter dragged out, just to tease Warren about his disconcerts from before. Warren flipped him off while (Y/N) wasn’t looking. 

“What have you guys been up to?” (Y/N) asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

“Not much. Jubilee asked us to help her organize the third grader’s field trip to the zoo for extra credit from McCoy.” 

“Oh my gosh— I said I’d help her with that—“ (Y/N) looked at her phone and mumbled a curse. “I ignored her message…”

“Just tell her you were busy, I’m sure she won’t mind.” Warren shrugged.

“But I feel bad for ignoring her, plus the extra credit—“ 

“That you don’t need. Don’t feel bad, Jubilee forgets to respond to stuff all the time.” Warren walked over to his closet. “Are you gonna be okay if I take my shirt off?” 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock and confusion, “Why— What— What, why are you stripping?” 

She was sure her eyes were fully purple, I mean, come on! What kind of random question is ‘Are you okay with me taking my shirt off?’ Plus they were in Warren’s bedroom!

“I just don’t want to keep my wings restrained if I don’t have to… I usually don’t in my room, I’m shirtless most of the time.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed magenta for a moment as the thought of a shirtless Warren flashed through her brain for a second. She cleared her throat.

“Yeah, go ahead. I don’t mind.” He nodded and removed his hoodie off, tossing it on his desk chair.

“Well, Kurt…” Peter awkwardly spoke up.  “I think Jubilee wanted our help with the field trip… And with some other stuff…” 

“Vhat?” 

“Remember?” He asked, motioning to (Y/N) and Warren with his eyes. 

“Oh! Oh Yeah! Ve… Ve gotta go.” Kurt waved. 

“Have fun, you guys!” Peter grabbed Kurt’s hand and they disappeared with a puff of smoke. 

“Do they think— because we’re not— I don’t— You don’t—“

“Relax, (Y/N).” Warren chuckled. “That’s just Peter being Peter.” 

“I suppose so…” She grew a flower in the palm of her hand and picked at the petals. 

Warren plopped down next to her, “What do you want to do?” 

She shrugged, “I’m not sure… We could… We could play never have I ever.”

Warren scoffed, “Never have I ever, with only two people?” 

“It’s fun. More... intimate. Ororo and I used to do it a lot when she had trouble sleeping her first few nights here.” 

“Are you trying to sleep with me?” He teased.

“What? No! No, no… Why are you laughing?”

“I was just joking. And you’re reaction was funny. Like we’d ever sleep together.”

She glanced at him, in a bit of disbelief of what he said. “Hmm?” 

“I don’t think— Never mind.”

(Y/N) nodded awkwardly, trying to make herself not feel awkward. She didn’t want to make the situation weird, “I’ll start the game. Never have I ever ditched class.” 

“I have.”

“I know, Jubilee tells me when you two skip to go thrift shopping or to the music store downtown.” 

“You should join us sometime— Never have I ever cheated on a test.” 

“I did once. One time! In third grade, I wasn’t sure how to spell vacuum so I looked at the girl next to me and copied what she put.” 

Warren faked a gasp, “You trouble maker!” 

“It was third grade!” (Y/N) tried to be defensive, but couldn’t hide the smile adorning her face as Warren teased. “My turn. Never have I ever… never have I ever… had a crush on a friend’s significant other.” 

Warren hesitated with his answer. He didn’t really want to tell (Y/N). He didn’t have a crush anymore, and the girl knew— but her boyfriend didn’t. If he found out, Warren was dead meat.

“Who was it?”

“What?”

“The girl you had a crush on…”

“I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“You were slow at answering. If you didn’t like anyone you wouldn’t need time to answer.” 

Warren shot a dirty look at (Y/N). “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just curious—“

“Can we just forget it? She knows, and I don’t like her anymore.” 

“Yeah, yeah… It’s uh, it’s your turn.” 

Warren didn’t say anything.

“You can ask me whatever you want. No matter how personal it seems.” 

“Alright… Are you a virgin?”

I did say he could ask me anything… Plus I did ask him a really personal question… “Yeah.” 

“Oh…” Duh! She’s never had a boyfriend before. What kind of question was that, dumbass?

“I’ve never been in a relationship or had sex— I’m not a prude though, I’ve kissed people before. At like, spin the bottle at a party or something.” 

“I respect that… Relationships are messy and honestly sometimes don’t seem worth it.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, fiddling with another flower she grew. “Kissing isn’t that great anyway.”

Warren involuntarily licked his lips, “What do you mean?” 

“It’s either too short and awkward and you bump noses, or like, there’s too much force and pressure to it and the other person collides their teeth with your lips.” 

“Jesus! Who are you kissing?”

(Y/N) chuckles darkly and shakes her head, “You don’t want to know.” 

Warren smiled, “Yikes.” 

They both laughed together. 

When the laughter died down, Warren asked the dumbest question possible. 

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was quiet, soft— different from how it was moments before.

“What?”

“I’ve been told I’m a good kisser…” He awkwardly explained. “I could show you… Change your mind?”

“Change my mind?”

“It could stay between us… It doesn’t even need to have any meaning behind it.” Warren scooted himself so he was sitting face to face from (Y/N). He looked up at her eyes trying to figure out what she was thinking. Her eyes flashed from yellow to pink, then purple. He wasn’t sure what the colors all meant. He made a mental note to learn what they all stood for. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She nodded, “Change my mind.” 

Warren cupped her face in his hand. “Are you really sure about this?”

“Yeah…”

“Alright.” Warren tilted his head to the left a little, to prevent his nose from bumping into (Y/N)’s. He pressed his lips gently against hers. Warren used his other hand to cup the rest of her face. Their lips moved together in perfect motion. A warm feeling formed in Warren’s stomach, and he carefully removed his lips from (Y/N)’s.

It was rather brief, but enough to show (Y/N) what she’d been missing. 

“Wow…” Her eyes were pinker than before. Warren’s face was flushed, but he ignored it. 

“Wow?”

“Yeah, um… wow. That was… That was nice.” 

“Mhmm…” Warren wasn’t sure what to say. Yeah, he was a good kisser, but the kiss didn’t mean anything. It was just showing (Y/N) that not everyone sucks at kissing. The pink in her eyes just meant she was flustered and nothing else.  She wasn’t going to crush on Warren, and he wasn’t going to crush on her. 

-

(Y/N) left after that. She didn’t know what to do. She’d heard rumors about Warren— saying he was a player, a heartthrob, didn’t care about anyone but himself— (Y/N) couldn’t find that to be true. Sure, if she caught feelings she would get hurt because Warren didn’t like her back… but he wasn’t an asshole. 

She sighed, slipping into pajamas. It was easy for everyone else, (Y/N) had no complications with anyone else, everyone liked her and she liked them. She’d only gotten mad at someone once and it was Peter… but Warren… Warren was different. 

Something drew (Y/N) in, and she couldn’t figure out what. Perhaps, despite their differences, they could be good friends. 

As she got under her covers, she sprouted some poppies to help her sleep. 

-

The paper was a huge success! Warren and (Y/N) got a 98% on it. 

“We should celebrate!” 

“What for? You did most of the work.” 

“That’s not true, and besides, I’ve had a tiresome week and I want to relax.” 

Warren shrugged, “Sure. What’d you have in mind?” 

-

“Why are we in the attic?” 

“I thought we could watch a movie or something. Ororo and I have been using it as a greenhouse of sorts, but we haven’t grown enough plants yet.” 

“Yet?!” Warren gaped. The attic was like 80% plant, 20% building, and here (Y/N) was, saying there’s no such thing as too many plants.

She smiled, setting down her laptop and some blankets, “Duh!” (Y/N) messed with her laptop for a few minutes before pulling up Netflix. 

“You can pick something out.” 

“Anything?” (Y/N) nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” She was off to the side, messing with a plant. “If you don’t see anything you like, I have Hulu too.”

“Netflix is fine.” 

(Y/N) came back and sat next to Warren. “Find something good?”

“Uh, yeah— yeah.” She peered over his shoulder to see.

“Ooo! The Addam’s family! I love that movie.”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid. I barely remember the plot.” 

“Oh, it’s so good! You’re gonna love it.” 

(Y/N) pressed play and got comfortable under the covers. Warren did the same. 

-

The movie was good. Warren really enjoyed it. 

“What’d you think?” (Y/N) was excited in asking him. 

“It was good! Like, really good.”

“Yeah! I really liked Gomez and Morticia and their relationship, even if it is unrealistic… Also for the 90s, the effects for Thing were really good!” Warren nodded, slightly frowning when she talked about Gomez and Morticia’s relationship. 

Is that really what she thinks? Is that why she’s single? 

Why— Why do I even care?! It’s not like I like her or anything.

“Yeah, yeah… We should uh, get going—“ He glanced at the laptop, “—before people ask where we are.” 

“Right! Right… I can get it, no biggie.”

“Sure you don’t want any help?” (Y/N) shook her head. Warren couldn’t help but notice she had a shift in demeanor. Her eyes were fully purple, with pink slowly fading around the pupil. He kept quiet and followed (Y/N) out of the attic.

“Are you going to the mall Friday?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Scott wanted the group to do something fun for once— plus it was one of the few options Xavier approved of. “Are you?”

“Uh-huh. Peter suggested we go see a movie or something.”

“Yeah, that could be fun. Scott will wanna hit up the arcade but that’s typical.”

They stopped at her door— (Y/N) obviously struggled to open it due to the unwieldy stuff in her arms. “Here— I got it,” Warren opened the door and let her go forward. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. I’ll see you later.” 

“You’re leaving?” Warren felt his chest ache, but he dismissed it as nothing. He ate at Five Guys with Jubilee and Kurt the other day. 

“Yeah, I have some homework… Sorry…” 

“You’re okay. I’ll… see you later.” 

Warren smiled and said, “Bye,” before shutting the door behind him. When he was gone, (Y/N) sat down and leaned against the door and sighed. 

She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t know what to do or what to say— she wanted to kiss him again. 

No— You can’t kiss him. Warren doesn’t like you. 

She pushed the dirty thought aside and flopped onto her bed, covering herself in ivy to lay and let the sun come through the window.

-

Warren was in Hank’s lab, just for a medical update. Alex was there as well, as he’s never too far away from Hank. 

“Any trouble with your wings?”

“Not really. The feathers grow back metal and they’re heavy. They’re easier to clean than my old ones, but I sometimes miss a spot.”

Hank nodded, skimming some papers. “Do you want someone to help you clean your wings?”

“No! No way,” Warren rose his voice defensively. “I’m not comfortable.” 

“Maybe if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend to help out,” Alex offered. 

Warren rolled his eyes, “Well, I don’t have one and there’s no one here I want to date anyway.” 

Alex smiled to himself, “You mean there’s no one here who you think likes you, so you pretend to not be interested.” 

“Since when did you become my psychiatrist?” Warren squinted.

“Since your movie date.” 

Hank glanced at Alex for a moment before going back to his paperwork, “What movie date?”

“The one he and (Y/N) had yesterday—“

“It wasn’t a date. She just wanted to hang out some more since we finished our paper for English.”

“Mhmm…” Alex didn’t believe it. 

“I’m serious! We are literally in the same friend group, we’re going to hang out together.”

“What Peter’s been telling me is different.”

 Warren almost scoffed in disbelief, “You’re really going to trust Peter over me on this?”

“No, but Peter told me you asked what it means when her eyes turn pink.” 

Hank stopped his work and was fully listening to the blondes argue— “(Y/N)’s eyes have never been pink before, well, not many shades of pink. What was it?” 

“Um… It was only for a moment,” Warren mumbled.  “It could have been the lighting or whatever…”

“No, no, this is really important. I like to keep a note of what each of her colors mean. Even if you just saw her eyes flash, I need to know when, why, and what shade of pink.”

“It’s happened a few times, but never for very long… it’s usually a millennial pink… Um, I don’t think it’s happened around anyone else before because no one else knew what I was talking about when I asked…” 

“How often have her eyes turned pink? What were you guys doing when they turned pink?”

Warren thought back to all the times he swore her eyes turned pink. Nothing huge… Just when we were in class or whenever we’ve hung out this week. Nothing too special— Oh. 

Warren realized something. Something he maybe shouldn’t have. 

Her eyes were fully pink when we kissed… I— I can’t tell Hank and Alex that! They wouldn’t understand and they’d think we’re into each other. Which we are not… Well, I don’t think I’m into (Y/N), but now I’m not sure if she likes me or not.

“Just during class, when we’re alone, just like, whenever we’ve hung out this week. I don’t think it means anything really.” 

“You never know, Warren.” 

He nodded, “Right, right… Am I uh, am I free to go?”

“Yeah, you’re fine, you’re wings are fine. You can access your medical file if you want the details.” 

“Great. Thank you.” Warren hopped off the bed and walked out. 

-

What am I going to do?! (Y/N) might like me! Now I have to put in effort and not seem like a total burnout around her. She’s got high expectations and standards and I’m fucked!

Wait… Warren sat there, confused. Why did he care if (Y/N) liked him?

If I accidentally break her heart, everyone will actually kill me and... I kind of give a shit for once. That’s all…

Warren got his phone out and opened his messages. He opened his conversation with (Y/N). The last thing she sent him was an old picture of Alex she found in the library. 

He typed out hey, ready to send it, but his thumb hovered over the little arrow. What would he even say to her? What if she didn’t respond? What if she actually hated him and that’s what the pink meant? He turned his phone off and set it on his bed. Warren flopped onto his mattress and buried his face into his pillow. 

-

(Y/N) was studying with the other girls. They were reviewing for McCoy’s bio test and she was busy writing down answers for her study guide. 

“Who’s going to the mall Friday?” Jubilee asked out of the blue. 

Jean started listing off people, “Scott, Peter, Kurt, us—“ 

“Warren’s going! He told me,” (Y/N) spoke up. 

“He is?” Jubilee asked. “He didn’t say anything to me.” 

“I asked him yesterday.” (Y/N) had a smile on her face. 

“When?” Ororo got out a pack of gum and offered Jean a piece. 

“We were up in the attic watching a movie.”

Jubilee eyed her, “You guys did what?” 

“We just watched the Addams family. Warren and I are friends.” (Y/N)’s tone was slightly defensive. 

“Your eyes are pink,” Jean stated. 

“What?” (Y/N) quickly looked at herself using her phone’s front camera. “Oh my god—it’s— they’ve— they’ve never been pink before. I don’t know what—“

“Think for two seconds. Who are we talking about?”

Jean! I don’t— I don’t like Warren! Not as a boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend and he doesn’t want to date anyone.

She smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I just really like the fact we’re friends now. That’s all. I’m not in love with him or anything…”

What if my subconscious does love Warren? I doubt it. I think I would know if I was in love. 

“And anyway, it’s just a coincidence. They’ve never been pink before so I’m sure finally being friends with Warren just—“

“They’ve been pink before,” Ororo spoke up.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. “What? When?” 

“I don’t know when exactly, but Peter told me Warren was asking about it a few days ago.” 

(Y/N) was trying not to freak out. “Why was he asking?”

“Didn’t say, but I bet he saw your eyes flash pink or something.” 

“Oh my god…” (Y/N) was horrified. Warren knew. He knew! He knew how she felt and he would probably never speak to her again or break her heart and (Y/N) couldn’t live with either of those options. She didn’t want the first person she’d ever had a real crush on to find out. Warren didn’t want to date anyone! He told her this, right before they kissed in his bedroom… 

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and groaned. She didn’t know what to do— by this time tomorrow, everyone would know she likes Warren. The embarrassment, the rejection, the humiliation, the—

“Hey, babe. Here’s your textbook you left in my room.” 

(Y/N) looked up and saw Scott giving a book back to Jean. She looked at his face. 

Of course! Scott wears glasses all the time so it’s harder to know what he’s thinking!

“Scott—” 

He turned to face (Y/N). “Yeah?”

“Do you have a spare pair of glasses?”

“Um… I just have my visor. Why are you asking?” 

She waved him off, “Never mind. Jubilee, can I borrow your sunglasses?”

“Sure, why?” 

“I need to cover my eyes. Just for a while. Until this whole, “pink eye” thing stops happening.” 

“Pink eye?” Scott asked, furrowing his brows.

“It’s— It’s nothing, trust me. Warren and I are becoming closer and I’m just happy.”

“Your eyes turn pink when you’re around Warren?” Scott was trying to hide his emotions, for his mind was zooming with thoughts.

“And when we talk about him,” Jubilee teased. 

“You know,” Scott pondered,  “He was asking about that the other day…” 

(Y/N) tensed. Warren had to know. There was no way he didn’t. “He was?” 

“Yeah. What does it mean?”

“It means—”

“—It means,” Jubilee cut her off, “(Y/N)’s got a thing for Warren.”

(Y/N) shook her head, “I do not!” 

“Yeah, you do,” Ororo said offhandedly.  

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I just need some sunglasses to hide my eyes so people don’t know what I’m feeling all the time. Have you ever thought maybe I don’t like being an open book?” The last sentence came out harsher than expected. Everyone was shocked, how could (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the flower child, be so angry? 

(Y/N) looked down, embarrassed from raising her voice, “I didn’t mean to snap at you guys…”

Jubilee spoke over her, “It’s okay. I’ll get you my sunglasses.” 

-

Everything was darker, but that was the purpose of sunglasses, to block out the sun. (Y/N) didn’t mind much, but it was sometimes hard to read text on the board and her eyes hurt by the third period. 

“How do you do this every day?” She asked Scott as they walked down the halls to their next class. 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“Oh…” (Y/N) glances down at her feet wide-eyed with guilt. “Right…”

“I know you’re doing it for other reasons, but I think it’s cool you’re wearing sunglasses all day. I don’t feel alone.” 

“I can— I can still see color though.” 

“Yeah, but not as well. Sometimes I feel lonely when everyone talks about colors— the sunset, the fruit at the grocery store— hell, I even miss seeing the green grass! The grass!” 

“That must be hard.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel pity, even though she knew that Scott didn’t want it. “I don’t think I could ever imagine living in just red…” 

“Sometimes…” Scott sheepishly began, “Jean uses her powers and I can see color for a little bit, but it’s from her point of view, and it’s hard for her. She can only do it for a minute or two, and I don’t want to hurt her.” 

“Aww,” (Y/N) cooed. “You’re so sweet.” 

“Shut up!” A blush covered Scott’s cheeks and he got quiet for a moment. 

“So you and Warren, huh?” 

(Y/N) groaned, “Why am I talking about this with you?”

“Because I’m your only guy friend in a relationship,” Scott offered up as a question. 

She huffed. Scott was right. “Fair point… It’s just… I don’t know… I don’t think he likes me back—which is fine— I just don’t want him to be uncomfortable when he finds out I like him.” 

Scott furrowed his eyebrows, “When he finds out?”

“Pink eyes,” (Y/N) deadpanned. “remember?” 

“Right, right… but how do you know he doesn’t like you back?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “We can’t have a telepath in our relationship.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jean probably knew you liked her the whole time before you dated.” 

“Hold on! She never read my mind— we made a promise—“

(Y/N) crosses her arms and stopped for a moment, “Mmhmm. All I’m saying is, there’s no mind reader between me and Warren. I can’t tell, and he doesn’t know yet… besides, he told me himself, we wouldn’t work out. We’re too different, and too many people want me to date, Kurt…” 

“Opposites attract.” 

“No, they don’t… At least that’s what Warren said…”

“Okay, listen— Warren is the dumbest person I know.”

(Y/N)’s mouth gaped, “Warren’s not dumb, he’s in two AP classes and speaks multiple languages.”

“What—“ Scott squinted,  “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“You said Warren was dumb. I said he wasn’t.” (Y/N) awkwardly crossed her arms. 

“What I meant was, Warren’s being stupid. Thinking he’s not good enough for anyone, how he thinks he’s too punk for you. It’s obvious!”

“What is?” 

“Warren likes you.”

-

(Y/N) stood there, in shock. She didn’t know what to do. 

Warren liked her. Allegedly. 

“How— How do you know that?”

“You can just tell. It’s obvious.”

Maybe… “Oh…” 

A teacher down the hall scolded some students for loitering in the hall. “We better get to class,” Scott motioned to the kids with his head. 

“Um, yeah. We should get going…” (Y/N)’s eyes flashed to purple.

-

Warren saw (Y/N) in the afternoon. She had on sunglasses, and her hair was slightly messy. She looked hungover, but Warren knew that wasn’t her, partying her nights away, (Y/N) was the perfect princess— and Warren? Warren was John Bender from the breakfast club, except he wasn’t in a John Hughes movie, and he didn’t get the girl and have a half-assed happy ending. 

But back to (Y/N). 

“Hey, Shades.” 

“Hi.” She was curt. Did Warren do something wrong?

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah!” She seemed nervous.  “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“You’re wearing sunglasses…” He pointed out. “Inside…” 

“Yeah?.... I’m just… I just…” She struggled to come up with an answer. 

“Hungover?” Warren suggested. 

“Pfft… No. I don’t… I don’t really…”

Warren nodded, “Right, right. I don’t really either, but I used to so…”

“I’m trying to hide my eyes.” 

Warren turned face to face with (Y/N), blinking in surprise. 

“Why?”

“Reasons…” 

“What kind of reasons?”

“I just don’t want people to read me like a book…” (Y/N) was lying. Partially. 

“Oh… I mean, not everyone knows what your eye colors mean.”

“Most people do. And if they don’t they ask.” 

Warren winced. She knew he asked about the pink eyes. She was going to think of him as some nosy, pitiful, boy with daddy issues.  “People are gonna think you’re hungover.”

“Three already asked.” 

Warren smiled to himself, he found it almost funny. “Why’re you trying to hide your emotions?”

“I like someone.” 

The three words froze in his mind. 

(Y/N) liked someone. Someone who was normal, probably. Someone the student body approved up. Somebody who hasn’t killed people and looks like a nightmare. 

“Oh.” 

He couldn’t see the concern in her eyes when his face obviously fell. 

“Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll see you later.”

Warren nodded awkwardly, “Yeah. See you later…”

-

The mall trip was awkward. (Y/N) had her glasses on still and half of her friends didn’t know why, and Warren was sulking because of (y/N)’s mystery lover.

“So, (Y/N)...” Peter drawled out. “What’s with the sunglasses? You trying to copy Scott?” 

She laughed a little at his joke. “Not really…” Peter raised his eyebrows, silently pressing for details. “I just don’t want people to see my eyes. That’s all.”

“Why? Is it because they’re… pink?”

Damnit, Peter! Warren cursed to himself. You had to bring it up. Rub it in my face that the Princess found her Prince Charming. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/N) glanced at Warren for a moment as he listened to Jubilee ramble on about some girl she met at a thrift store. 

“Why?... Because you’re in looove?” 

(Y/N) swatted his arm. “I am not!” 

“Oh, but I know that's not true.” Peter pouted and bat his eyes. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Woah! Didn’t know Snow White knew such naughty words.” 

Warren grimaced,  Peter was pushing her buttons and Warren wanted to strangle him, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Borderline mullet, feathery white wings, and an adrenaline rush with the ability to punch everyone within five feet in front of him. 

Now he was a gang looking member, with trauma, and recovering from bad habits. Don’t mention that he was in love with Mother Nature.

Warren was so lost in his own words that he didn’t even notice Peter and (Y/N) bickering. 

“Stop it—“ 

The glasses fell. And then the unexpected happened. 

Jubilee stepped on the sunglasses. They cracked under her heel. 

“Oh shit! Aw, man!” Jubilee didn’t even care, they were her glasses. She got them at five below for three dollars two years ago. Jubilee picked up the broken shades and looked them over. 

“Oh well. They were cheap anyway.” Jubilee tossed the remains in the trash and didn’t even give it a second thought. 

Warren looked at (Y/N) and they made eye contact. Her eyes flashed purple, maroon, and they settled on pink. Full-on rose gold, soft-blushing pink. 

There were flowers in her hair and they retracted into buds— a defense mechanism— she was scared, but wouldn’t break away from him. 

Everyone looked at them like one looks at a car wreck or a burning building. 

Warren glared at them. “Alright, um, let’s go to Barnes and Noble…” Jubilee dragged everyone away, leaving Warre and (Y/N) behind. 

“Were you hiding your feelings from me?” 

She nodded, “I didn’t want you to know, though.”

It finally all clicked in Warren’s mind. She wanted to hide her emotions from him because she was into him, and everything he said about them “not being compatible, people don’t ship us, the kiss was only platonic”. “I get it.” 

“I want you, but I…” 

“I made up bullshit to push you away because I was scared… You’re way out of my league and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care…” She stepped closer to him. “I’d kiss you right now, but we’re in public…” Warren quickly cupped (Y/N)’s face and left a peck on her lips. 

Even a quick kiss from Warren was better than anything from a boy at a crappy house party.

“Do you want to go to find our friends?”

“Yeah, yeah. We probably should.” 

-

Warren wasn’t sure at what point her hand slipped into his and held on, but he didn’t move away either. 

Something in one of the shop windows caught his eye though. 

It was a book. Titled, Olympus Gods or something. It made a light go off in Warren’s mind, but he couldn’t figure it out. 

What, why does— Then he saw a Harry Potter toy. The three-headed dog, Fluffy or something. 

Who else had a three-headed dog? 

“Hades…” 

“Hmm?” She looked at Warren with confusion. 

“Hades and Persephone— plant goddess and goth guy.” 

She got the hint right away, and nudged his arm with her elbow, “Dork.” 

Warren blushed, “Yeah, yeah… just shut up,” He joked.

[softboywriting]

Haven Port | Chapter Two | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn and his pack have moved to your tiny town of Haven Port. You’ve never met werewolves other than your dad before and you’re infinitely curious. You may be only half werewolf but you and Shawn have a connection that will send you on a wild romantic journey in this small town you call home. [hybrid reader] [werewolf shawn]

Word count: 3.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Shawn walks into the shop no more than ten minutes after you open the next day. It's a thrill to see him, your stomach flip flops and your heart soars. It's been a long time since you've felt like this. He's in just a sweater and jeans and for a moment you feel bad, knowing his coat is at your house behind the front door. If you'd known he was coming by you would have brought it to work with you.

“Morning,” He smiles warmly and you lean against the counter, grinning ear to ear. Something about him makes you so excited that you can't control your face when you see him. You feel like you must look like a doofus.

“Good morning. What can I get started for you?” You giggle, yes, actually giggle. Good grief he has you giggling like a teenager with a crush.

Shawn crosses his arms and saunters along the length of the counter. “I want something warm," he looks at your sweater clad chest. "Something sweet," he looks at your lips and you can feel your hands sweat. "And I think maybe something with a toasty brown color,” his eyes go to your brown fuzzy ears. “Oh and I'd like it for here, not to go.”

“Hmm, I dunno...I could suggest maybe a chai tea with honey?” You say playfully, grabbing a small glass mug off the rack by the counter for dine in guests. You know he's teasing you, describing you as his drink. "Maybe a-"

Shawn leans over the counter and grins, stopping you mid sentence. He motions for you to lean forward, to come closer and you do. He hooks his finger over the front of your apron and plays with the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there anything sweeter?” he whispers, eyes on your lips.

“I-I don't know,” You mutter, suddenly aware of how suggestive this was getting.

Shawn chuckles and releases your apron, eyes soft as he leans away, understanding you've gotten nervous from his attention. “Chai with extra honey will be fine.” He purrs softly, voice low and still in flirt mode.

You turn around quickly, cheeks flushed hot as you begin to prepare his tea.

It takes a few minutes to steep his drink and you peek over at him while he browses your gift selection. He picks up gift baskets and looks them over before setting them down again. Occasionally he will smile to himself and steal a glance back at you.

“What do you do?” You ask, and he looks up from a breakfast basket you made just a few days ago.

“I used to work with my dad. He owns a couple garages.”

“You're a mechanic?”

Shawn approaches the counter and you slide his cup toward him. “I was, yes. I've also been a carpenter and a landscaper.” He hangs his head and chuckles inwardly. “I guess I've done a lot.”

“What kind of work are you doing here? Or have you found a job yet?”

“I'm still looking. I'd like to get a job in town here but I'm not too keen on working on a fishing boat. I can't leave my pack for weeks at a time.”

You turn to the back counter and grab your phone. “I know someone who could use help. He's a friend of my Dad's. He works on the boats at the docks.”

“Repair work?”

You nod. “Repair and maintenance. I used to run the parts room and answer his calls for him when I was eighteen, it was my first job. You'd be perfect, you're young, strong, and I think with your experience you would be a good fit.” You slide a piece of paper with a phone number on it next to Shawn's mug.

“You don't have to do this,” Shawn mutters, looking the number over before pocketing it. "Thank you though."

“I know I don't have to, but I want you to stick around.”

“You do? Why's that?”

“I like you." You smirk, wiping down the counter as another customer walks in. “You're interesting, I've never gotten to know a wolf before.”

Shawn smiles and takes a seat while you help the customer that came in. The order is big, it's for a boat crew that has just docked. By the time you finish, Shawn is gone. You sigh, hoping you'd have gotten more time to talk. Maybe tomorrow or something, maybe you could get his number. Yeah. You'd ask for his number.  

_____________________

“So you're the girl the alpha is gaga for?” A voice says behind you at the market the next day and you turn around. A tall curvy girl in a bright pink coat beams at you. Beside her is a guy about your age who is taller and built like Shawn.

“Um...you mean Shawn right?”

“Uh huh,” she giggles and thrusts her hand out excitedly. “I'm Ava and this is David.”

You take her hand and shake, her skin is incredibly warm compared to your partially frozen hand. Unfortunately high body temperature was not a trait you inherited from your dad. “Are you from Shawn's pack?”

“We are! We just got in two nights ago. David and I decided to come get some real food since Shawn has been surviving on snacks and coffee since he got here.” She rolls her eyes and you stifle a little laugh. Shawn didn't seem the type. “Anyway, I knew who you were because Shawn came home smelling like you the last two nights. I hope that doesn't sound weird, because I don't mean you smell or-”

David taps Ava's arm. He signs something with his hands and Ava shakes her head. David seems to insist. Ava makes a motion with her fist and scowls at him. This silent argument goes on for a good thirty seconds before Ava realizes you're staring, lost to the silent conversation.

“Shit, sorry. David is deaf. I get a little caught up when he is being so annoying.”

“What did he say?” You ask. “I mean it's okay, I'm not going to be offended if it's about me.”

Ava sighs and signs to David. He repeats his question. “He wants to know if your ears are able to be hidden, like can you shift?”

“Ohh, no. I can't shift. I'm stuck like this.” You reach up and scratch your ear a bit. “I'd actually never met a wolf other than my dad before I met Shawn. Can wolves partially shift?”

“Nope. It's human or wolf, no in between.” She signs to David and he nods. “Would you wanna come over for dinner? You could meet the rest of the pack, and I'm sure Shawn would absolutely love to see you.”

You look down at your basket of vegetables and snacks. “Well, I was going to make a chop salad for dinner, but I can make it later.”

“Make it and bring it over!”

“Oh, okay, sure. Where do you live? Shawn said it was outside of town and I don't have a car so...”

“We'll pick you up, is 5:30 okay?”

“Sure, I think I should have enough time to make a salad and shower.”

Ava claps her hands and signs the plans to David. He smiles and nods to you. You say goodbye and finish your shopping, suddenly nervous about the dinner plans. What if the other wolves didn't like you? What if Shawn wasn't happy with you coming to his place? Shit.

_____________________

It’s ten after five when you hear a car pull into your driveway. You look out and see it's Shawn's Jeep. You grab a coat and check Parker's water and food dish in the front entryway. He's set for the evening. You grab your bowl of salad and head out into the crisp evening air.  

Shawn rolls down the passenger window and leans over to see you as you approach the Jeep. “How did Ava convince you to come to dinner?” He laughs and you pass him the salad through the window.

“Well I knew you would be there, and I want to meet more wolves. It was really a no brainer.” You crawl up into the Jeep and Shawn rolls up the window. "I hope it's alright."

“Yes, it's fine. Ava told me you were coming over tonight and I nearly flipped because of the short notice but it's okay. The house is in no shape for visitors yet, well, it wasn't.” Shawn backs out and heads for the county road that leads in and out of town. “I'm going to have to ask you to understand that wolves are...well we're animals. Things happen.”

“What are you talking about? What things?”

Shawn turns down a dirt road and heads into a patch of woods. “We get a little rough with each other.”

“Alright? You giggle, eyebrows raised. “I'm sure you couldn't have wrecked the house already.”

“Wolves don't like change. They get a little rambunctious, and my pack just moved in. There were some fights for bedrooms and what not.”

"Ah, like siblings then?"

"Yes. Like siblings." He says oftly, chuckling a bit. "That's a very good comparison."

A few more minutes of winding through the woods and the trees open up to a big flat area. The home you're approaching is a large cabin like structure. It's got several rooms by the look of it. Its nice though, well kept outside and no signs of damage. There are two other cars in the driveway and suddenly you realize you don't know how big Shawn's pack is. You have no idea how many wolves you're going to meet.

“We're here.” Shawn announces, parking the Jeep and sighing. “I should warn you, some of my wolves are very excited to meet you.”

“Why? I'm just some girl from town?”

“You're some girl I like a lot and they know it.”

You raise your eyebrows and he raises his back. “Not much of a dater are you?”

Shawn shakes his head and chuckles. “Not really. Come on, I'll keep you from getting mauled.”

As soon as you walk in with Shawn you're met with three wolves you hadn't met yet. Two girls and a guy, all similar in age to you and Shawn. They don't look particularly excited like Shawn said and you feel anxious.

“Hi,” you smile nervously, giving your name and offering the salad bowl out in front of you. “I made salad.”

“Is that supposed to feed all of us?” The guy asks, eyeing the bowl skeptically.

You look back to Shawn and swallow hard. “Um...yes?"

Shawn growls softly. The three wolves look down, seemingly reprimanded.

“I'm Jo, this is Lindsay and Ryan,” the shortest girl says, stepping forward and extending her hand. “Shawn has told us about you.”

“Good things I hope,” you laugh nervously. You swallow harshly and Shawn puts his hand on your back.

“Familiar much?” Lindsay says, eyes on Shawn's gesture.

“Be nice Lindsay. Why don't you three take the salad into the kitchen and start setting up dinner?” Shawn says firmly.

Ryan takes the salad bowl from you and follows the two girls out of the entryway. You look up at Shawn as his hand falls from your back. “I thought they were excited to meet me?”

“They were. I don't know what the problem is. I'm not really happy with them.”

“Oh. Well Ava and David were very excited when we met in the market. Did I do something wrong?”

Shawn shakes his head. He tucks your hair behind your ear and strokes it before you can pull away. The gesture sends a wave of warmth through your body. “Ava is always excited about everything. She's the most lovely person I've ever met. David is her mate and the poor guy gets dragged everywhere. But, no I don't think you've done anything wrong. I just need to talk with my wolves.”

You nod and allow Shawn to lead you into the dining room. The table is lined with spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, sauteed vegetables and your little bowl of salad. It looks like enough food to feed a small army.

“Come! Sit!” Ava cheers, patting the seat beside her.

“You heard the lady,” Shawn smiles and you take a seat, Shawn sitting on your other side.

Clanking of dishes and banter over the food and daily activities fill the room for the entirety of dinner. You remain quiet, eating slowly as you listen to the wolves around you. They are your people but you couldn't feel any more out of place. Only Ava and Shawn attempt conversation but even then you are reserved, answers short and sweet. A few of the wolves stare at you from time to time. You know it's your ears they see. Not you.

Dinner ends after what feels like forever and everyone helps clean up while you sit awkwardly in the living room all alone. Of course you offered to help but Ava said you were a guest and guests don't clean up.

You try to lessen your awkward silence of sitting alone in the living room by going to the bathroom. On your way back you stop in the hall when you hear harsh whispering.

“Did you see her ears?” What sounds like Jo, giggles. “They kept moving anytime someone on the other side of the table would speak up, I was purposely asking Ryan questions because it looked ping pong with her ears.” You peer around the corner to see Jo and Lindsay snickering.

“Ping, ping, ping.” Linday says, motioning her right hand, and then her left up by her head to mimic your ears.

The wall is cold when you lean back against it, heartbroken. You hadn’t heard someone say something like that since you were in school. Numbly you make your way back to the living, deciding to go back to the safe zone where no one could hide in the corner and make fun of you.

You chew on your thumb nail, peeling it off nervously when Shawn and Ryan walk into the room. Shawn sits down and puts his arm over the back of the couch behind you. “You're stressed, what's wrong?” He asks in a low whisper.

“It's nothing. I'm just not used to being around so many people.”

“Would you like to go somewhere quieter?”

You nod and Shawn stands up with you. The other wolves start to walk in the living room and you step closer to Shawn. He puts his arm around your back and walks you toward the stairs. You know every wolf in the house is watching you as Shawn leads you up to the second floor. It makes you sweat.

Shawn leads you into what is clearly his bedroom. It's the master bedroom if you were to guess by the size. There's a large unmade bed in the center of the room with dark sheets and a dark bedspread. The room is very cozy, lush and inviting. The window to your right rattles loudly and makes you jump. The wind must be picking up and you realize you hadn't checked what the weather was supposed to be like for the evening.

You pull out your phone as Shawn apologizes for his mess and makes the bed for you to sit on. You pull up the weather and sure enough, a storm was coming in. A snow storm and you're at least fifteen minutes from home in the middle of the woods. Great. Even if you left now, there is a slim chance of getting home without getting stuck.

“What's wrong?” Shawn asks, looking up from where he's tucking the top sheet under the mattress. “Your ears are down like you're upset.”

“It's snowing,” you mutter, going to the window and looking out at the soft flakes floating to the already covered ground below. “A storm is coming in and I can't go home can I?”

“Of course you can go home. Why would the snow stop you?”

You look over at him and raise your eyebrows. “Snow storm means very little visibility, slick roads, you name it. I can't have you try and drive in that.”

Shawn shrugs and shakes out his comforter. “I'd find a way, but you are welcome to stay the night.”

You cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed. For a moment you think staying would be the best idea ever. For just a split second you forget that it's not just you and Shawn in the house, and then reality comes tumbling back. The conversation in the hall between Jo and Lindsay. The looks at dinner, the greeting when you arrived. It's weighs on you.

“I don't think your pack likes me,” you sigh softly, lip trembling a bit. You're not sure why but it's getting to you, it shouldn't, you've dealt with it your whole life. Maybe it's because you had high hopes of being accepted for once with these people being wolves and all.

Shawn sinks down on the bed beside you and takes your hand. “I think they're nervous,” he squeezes gently, fingers lacing between yours naturally. “I think maybe they don't know what to do wit h you because they don't know how I'll react.”

“So it's you? Not me?”

Shawn nods.

"But..." You're about to say something about Jo and Lindsay but you stop yourself. Starting drama wouldn't solve anything. "I guess. I think I'll stay the night, if it's really okay. I don't want to try and drive home in this weather. I think...I think I'm comfortable enough with you to stay.”

“Good, because I really didn't want to have to drive in this storm,” he chuckles softly. “Let me find you some clothes to sleep in.” He gets up and goes to his dresser, sifting through until he finds a tee and some pants that are not your size but you accept anyways. You change, back to him as you carefully fold your clothes on top of his dresser.

“Why am I so comfortable with you?” You ask, looking back at him. “We barely know each other but I feel almost like we're connected, like I've known you forever.”

Shawn looks over with a smile as he pulls a clean tee on over his head. “It's the wolves in us. They instinctively crave each other.”

“I'm just half wolf though.”

“Mmm it's strong enough, I can feel it, you can too if you let yourself.” Shawn walks over to you by the dresser. “Have you ever trusted your instincts?” He moves behind you, placing his hands on the dresser on either side, caging you in from behind.

“Shawn... what are you doing?” You ask, heart racing. He's so warm, his heat radiating onto your back. His closeness makes your breath hitch.

“Close your eyes,” Shawn purrs close to your ear. Your eyes fall closed and you bite your lip. “Relax, focus on what you feel.”

“Nervous. Anxious.”

“Push past that. Try not to overthink, let the instinct do the talking.”

You let out a long breath and try to push aside the nerves Shawn is giving you. Focus, relax. Warmth spreads over you, starting at your cheeks and flooding down to your stomach.

“Yes, good,” Shawn purrs and bumps his nose against you ear. “What does your instincts want, what do you want?”

“I don't know,” you mutter. Your heart races and it's not the nerves from the closeness anymore. “I can't tell.”

“You can. Focus.”

You shift your weight, bumping Shawn before pressing yourself against the dresser and shaking your head. You tilt your head back, ears pressed against Shawn's chest. “My instincts want...no, I want a companion.”

“A companion?”

You nod. “I want you, my instincts want you.”

Shawn wraps his arms around your stomach and you melt into his hold “I know they do. You do to. See what I mean? That wolves crave each other?”

You rub your head back against his chest, enjoying the feeling of his warm shirt against your ears. “Do all wolves have a connection like this?”

“No,” Shawn says, nosing your hair and walking you toward the bed. “You're special.”

“Psh, liar.”

“Alright, I lied. But most wolves don't find a mate in this day and age. We're so scattered around that usually wolves find a human mate and settle down.”

“Mates huh?” You laugh, pulling away from him and flopping on the bed. “That sounds cheesy.”

Shawn shrugs. He grabs an extra blanket from the end of the bed and shakes it out beside you. “I like to believe that mates exist.”

“Maybe it is something that exists, I dunno if I believe it though. I do like you a lot, I know that for sure.”

Shawn sits next to you and puts his arm around your back. “Can I ask why you don't like your ears touched?”

“I was teased a lot in school. Sometimes kids would pull on them and I'd cry because they're really sensitive.” You flatten them back against your head. “I just don't trust people not to hurt them.”

“Not even an alpha?” Shawn hums, running his fingers through your hair. “An alpha with a gentle touch, who knows how a wolf likes to be petted.”

“Shawn...” You mutter, leaning back in to his hand. His fingers brush the tip of your left ear and you press into the feeling. “Please be careful.”

“Of course pup,” he promises and you let him fully run his palm over your ear.

You lean into him, eager to get closer as he rubs your ear between his fingers. You fall onto his lap and he chuckles, keeping his hand in your hair and scratching behind your ear.

Shawn's chest starts to rumble. A low growl vibrating through his body into yours. “Your hair is very soft,” Shawn purrs, fingers rubbing your ear in big circular strokes with his thumb.

“Thank you,” you mutter, eyes closed as you rub your face into his leg.

Shawn scoots back and you follow him up onto the bed, positioning yourself so he is spooning you. He keeps stroking your hair and ears slowly as you give in to sleep. He feels so right. You feel safe and relaxed under his touch, something you haven't felt in a very long time, if ever.

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

Please send feedback in asks, replies or reblogs. Let me know if you’d like to read more of this story. Thank you so much -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty two: last christmas in new york

Sam never had her meeting with Bill at any given time during that following week. The whole entire time she had expected him to linger there over her shoulder as she drew up with pencils, colored and pure graphite otherwise, while in class. While she was relieved that he never did once show up, she still wondered what he had in mind for that summer and the months following.

There came a point in which she hoped that it would only be for that single summer and not the rest of the year. She knew that it was ridiculous to assume such a thing, and yet she still managed to think ahead. She had hope in Anthrax's new album for that coming year and that she and Joey could in fact take things to the next level. So much more that she needed to figure out with him in particular.

Even with the arrival of late October and the first freezing rains of the season, Sam couldn't help but feel that it would be her last autumn in New York, and ultimately her last Halloween there: all the spooky decorations and the fleeting scent of cinnamon in the air made her wish for those first days in the city again, even when she still lived in the Bronx. The smell of cinnamon made her think of Cliff as well. The smell of Christmas and home.

If it really was that significant of a task for her to carry out, then she knew that she would have to spend a great deal of time out there. And yet, the more thought she put into it, the more it felt so ludicrous to her. But then again, home called her with each passing day. Even with the midst of October, the days of the term seemed to drag by, not just for her but for Marla as well, who had come home every day from school looking as though she had run a mile at some point during the day.

Hardly enough time to relish in the rest of her time with one of her best friends, or in New York City. All both young women could do following their work was have dinner and then curl up under the covers with a book to read or with Genie curled up next to them. The very thing they had worked for and the very thing that made both of them head out to school had found its way into the realm of tedium. Sam lay in bed with her eye on her art journals and she wondered where it was all going wrong. A time away from the journals and the art desk, and she could return with a fresh approach.

Of course!

That was also the day she finally found that little bit of curiosity for some insight into it all, given Bill never showed up one time during her classes. Add to this, she thought of something else she had to figure out with Marla in particular. It was right after school and Marla herself had come home early in order to work on her own senior project. Sam knocked on her door and she peered over her shoulder at her. She nudged the door open and stepped inside.

“Hey,” Marla called to her; she swiveled around on her stool and in turn showed Sam the trio of drawings on her desk as well as the look of exhaustion on her face.

“Hey,” Sam replied back to her.

“What's happening?”

“I'm just curious about your own senior project—I also have to confess something. And I don't know who else to say this to—I mean, I haven't spoken to Aurora since Alex's birthday party last month, and we barely spoke to.”

“Yeah, and she made it about herself, too.”

“Right! Add to this, Bel's still at school and the boys are over in Europe right now. So you are literally the only person I can talk to about any this at the moment.”

“Go ahead,” said Marla with a shake of her head.

“Well,” Sam began, and she cleared her throat as well, “I'm not a liar, I'm not gonna lie to you, Marla, but... I'm kind of tired of this whole thing.”

Marla sighed through her nose and she tapped the eraser of her pencil on the inclined desk surface for a bit, and then she nodded her head. She let her eyes wander over to the desk next to her. Those drawings, those bare drawings that seemed to taunt both of them. Those drawings without any sort of feeling to them: they looked as though they hadn't been crafted by a human woman but by a machine.

“You wanna know something—I am, too,” she said in a low voice. She then turned her head back to Sam. “Hey, at least you get a trip out to California and you get to go see your parents again. I don't have a clue what I'm gonna do next year. At least Bel has an idea what she'll be doing: she's gonna be working in a glass shop up in Albany, but I have no idea about myself, though.”

“You and Genie, too,” Sam added.

“Right!”

Sam folded her arms across her chest. “Bel's going up to Albany, really?”

“Oh, yeah. She told me this—today actually—once school is out for the both of us, she's packing it up and bouncing up there. My best friend is actually going to move away from me.”

“Well, at least she's just going up the road, though,” Sam pointed out. “You know, she's not going—clear across the country.”

Marla sighed through her nose. One of their own was about to leave sooner than Sam, and then she would have to leave; Marla's eyes swept back over the pages on the desk next to her. If art brought her hands to that of a machine, then therein lay a dead end for her, and Sam had the impulse to call up Bill and tell him about it. But then again, they were a year apart. Whatever Marla had to do for herself was far different from that which awaited her the next summer.

“Can I at least see what it's supposed to encapsulate?” she asked her at one point. Marla then gave her cherry red hair a light toss back with a flick of her head.

“Yeah—Mrs. Robinson gave me what to do like the first day of school—which really makes me wonder what Bill has in store for you if he's telling you about it now. I have to fill out this journal—” She set her hand on a brown hard cover journal to the left of her. “—plus make a whole series of drawings, three of them erotic and three of them far more chaste. She told me she wants it to be in the realm of 'yin' and 'yang', like opposites of each other. The meeting of sexuality without it. She described it as like the human experience. Neither side understands the point of the other, although I'm not sure as to how to bring the chaste side to life, you know without being too on the nose with it.”

“Right, right.” Sam paused for a second as she thought about her encounters with Joey; even though Marla couldn't hardly relate to the chaste side of life, she definitely could. “So—is that it?”

“Oh, wait, hang on—she gave me this note before I came home earlier.” She picked up a little sheet of paper stuck onto the corner of the desk. “It says 'Miss Taylor, be sure to tell Miss Grimes to write up letters of recommendation for the pending masters and doctorates.'” She waved the paper about as if it meant nothing. “Yeah, another part of the whole thing is Bel and I have to write up letters of recommendation for a few of our classmates who are going onto to get their master's or doctorate degrees.”

Marla then turned to Sam with her eyebrows raised. “Hey, there's an idea for you. Get your master's. He'll have to take you back home at some point because of that. The only drawback I see with that is everything I've heard about both levels of degree are a lot of work. And I mean, a lot of work. You think we're burnt out right now? That's a whole other can of beans—at least from what I'm told about it.”

“Well, if that's just what a senior project is supposed to be, then it kind of makes me wonder exactly awaits me out in California.”

“I have no clue what he's supposed to give you,” Marla confessed to her with a shake of her head. The cherry red roots of her hair began to fade away in their boldness and into her original plain brown color.

“Hey, look at that—it's time to dye your hair again,” Sam pointed out with a nod of her head.

“Yeah, I know.” Marla patted the crown of her head. “I just haven't decided on what color I want next.”

“I'm telling ya: different colors, like a bunch of stripes.”

Marla chuckled at that. “Stripes, like one is black and the next is a muted tone and then a glossy neon one?”

“Yeah!”

“I dunno, Sam,” she confessed with a shake of her head, “—that's a lot of work. Like, that is a lot of work. Remember that metallic sheen I had that one time, you know the one where it looked as though my hair was changing colors? That took like a whole afternoon to do because it was hard on my neck and there was a lot of layering involved, too. I mean, just one color takes a whole couple of hours to do. I'm still surprised Charlie was able to keep it neat—like he didn't make this huge mess in the bathroom.”

“Well, there's always doing a single stripe,” Sam pointed out. “Like you can dye your hair solid black and then add a tiny sliver near the crown of your head.”

“Kind of like Alex's hair?”

“Yeah! Except you should make your stripe like bright pink or blue instead of gray.”

“Like neon colored?” Marla smiled.

“Yeah! I can help you with that, too.”

“It's not hard. Yeah, it's one of those things where it's not hard but it's just—time consuming. You don't just dye your hair willy nilly: you have to set time aside to do it. And it also takes work to pull off right because it can just make a mess or not show up at all. One of the things I learned about dyeing dark hair a weird color like blue or pink or even blonde is you have to bleach it before hand and I remember the first time that happened, too. The first time I bleached my hair and I thought 'I'm never doing that again.' Like right after that, I dyed my hair that bright tangerine orange and with those streaks on the side of my head. Remember that?”

“The first time we met each other!” Sam exclaimed. “I liked you with orange hair.”

“I liked it, too. And I liked those little streaks I had, too, because they were odd. And everyone knew me not as 'Charlie's girl' but as 'the girl with the bitchin' hair.'”

“I liked you with purple hair, too.”

“Bel really liked the purple, and so did Danny Lilker. During the Stormtroopers of Death tour, the first time he saw the purple hair on me, it was like one of those cartoon wolves when they see a foxy girl.”

“Did he howl?” Sam laughed.

“He may as well have!”

“But ever since then, you just layered the colors on top of each other.”

“Yeah. This cherry tomato color was done right on top of that metallic hairdo I had, so because of that, it's due for a redo anyways. Which means if I'm going to a weird color again like blue or pink, even if it's just a little Alex Skolnick or Dale Bozzio type streak at the front of my head, I have to bleach it no matter. And you gotta help me with it, too. The first time I did it Charlie helped me and I'm glad he did, too.”

“Well—where are you right now with your senior project?” Sam asked her.

“I've been wanting a break,” she confessed. “And it's still early, too.” She then nibbled on her bottom lip. “I'm gonna have to go out and get hair dye, though.”

“You can go blonde for a little bit, though,” Sam pointed out.

“I don't look right with blonde hair,” Marla told her. “It's too sharp of a contrast with my eyes. I'll show you what I mean once we get it. And the first time around it itched like crazy, even when I had washed it all out and tried to make it all nice. I can see people confusing me for Bel, too.” She paused for a minute and then she snapped her fingers. “Tell you what. We can bleach my hair and then I can wash it out real good, and while I'm in the shower, you can run on down the block here and get some black and bright blue hair dye for me.”

“You want blue?”

“Yeah. I think that's a good color to work with now. Either that or green, like bright green. I know I've changed hair colors before school terms ended, but I'm feeling it right now. I'm due for dyeing. I'm ready to dye.”

Without another word, Sam and Marla headed into the bathroom with a bottle of powder bleach, some toner, and a shower cap: there was a pair of rubber gloves in the drawer. Marla held still as Sam mixed the powder and toner in the container right next to her. She would pour the bleach over her head while she lay her neck across in the edge of the bathtub: it was either that or lay down in the sink.

“Charlie suggested that, too,” Marla recalled before she lay down, “and I was like, 'I think that's going to make a huge mess, though, Char.' So kudos to you for helping me lay down in the tub.”

“So once it's mixed together, I just work it into your hair?”

“Yeah, you start from the tips and then work your way up to the top of my head—”

Sam leaned forward for the first piece of hair down in the tub and scrubbed the bleach mixture in. It took some time, but she eventually reached Marla's scalp. She had closed her eyes once Sam reached the crown of her head: the entirety of her hair had been laced with something that made Sam think of bubble bath. Meanwhile, pieces of cherry red hair dye bled off of her hair, such that it resembled to blood.

“How're you feeling?” she asked her.

“Okay. Kinda itchy, though.”

“Ooh—damn.”

“It's okay. It's part of the process, getting rid of the color in the keratin. So now—where are you?”

“I'm at the top of your head.”

Marla then opened her eyes.

“You got the shower cap on hand?”

“Right here.” Sam gestured to the shower cap on the edge of the tub next to her. She hesitated to pick it up for her given the bleach concoction on the gloves; thus Marla slipped it under her hair.

“Help me out here—”

Sam stuck stray strands of hair into the cap so they all would stay in place on Marla's head. Within a matter of seconds, Marla herself had the cap upon her head.

“So I just let it sit for a bit and then I wash it out under the shower. And then we can color it in with the black and blue hair dye.”

Sam then took off the gloves and washed her hands, and headed out for two bottles of hair dye, one black and one neon blue. All the while, she pictured Alex with that same hair color scheme, that beautiful bright neon blue in lieu of the gray over his brow. She thought about the way he would dye his hair, with that rich jet black hair dye as it blanketed over that little cluster of gray hairs. The more she thought about it, the more hilarious it seemed to her, in how he could cover up a small piece of his hair with black dye. It was an odd little part of him, something that aged him even as he still stayed young, and thus he seemed so timeless to her.

His trademark.

And Joey had those deep black curls piled atop his head and the dark venom that made up his brown eyes.

Within time, she returned to the apartment right as Marla stuck her head under the shower head and washed out the bleach powder from her hair. Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch right next to Genie, who had curled up in her usual spot at the top. She could hear the water dripping from the shower down the hall, but soon enough, the pipes fell quiet and Marla rung out her hair. More silence, and then she surfaced from the bathroom with a towel on her head.

“Here, let me show you what I meant by that,” she told her, and she unfurled the towel from her wet hair. Bleached and pale yellow, such that it made her eyes appear deeper and more voluminous than before, and it washed out her already milky complexion to an even more pale color.

“Wow—you look—possessed,” Sam sputtered out. “Like you're about to take me down to the depths of hell.

“Charlie told me I looked like Johnny Winter when we first did it, but 'possessed' is more like it, though. Anyways, you got the dye?”

“Yup! Right here.”

Sam handed Marla the bottles of black and neon blue hair dye, and she joined her once again for a bit of help. Once again, Marla let the dye sit in her hair for a bit before she washed it out under the shower's head. Come dinner time, she had a head of jet black hair accompanied with an electric blue streak at the top of her head.

“Stylin',” Sam remarked as she disposed of the shower cap; she thought of the mysterious man in her dreams and the ever changing streak in his hair. It was right then that Lars burst into her mind: maybe it was the sight of Marla's eyes having been far more prominent than before she colored her hair blonde for a bit, or maybe it was her helping out Marla with the hair dye, but she thought about how he encouraged her to be more assertive, especially with the boys not around. A break away from the tedium and she was able to find something within herself that could prove to be helpful; or maybe it came from living on her own for a few years that helped her be more of that nature.

Indeed, the next day at school, everyone in the hallways flashed Marla a thumbs up or an eager nod at her new black hair. Before they headed into their drawing class for the morning, Sam heard someone calling her name right behind her. She turned her head and there was Bill running towards her.

“Miss Shelley? A word?”

She returned to Marla.

“I'll meet up with you in a second,” she told her.

A part of her wanted to ask him, “what took you so long?” but alas, she stopped herself in her tracks and they hung off to the side next to the classroom door.

“What's going on?” she asked him.

“I should tell you that it has been confirmed now. You are coming with me out to California for your senior project.”

“I have a couple of questions about that,” she started as Lars returned to her mind once again.

“Go ahead.”

“First off, what am I going to do out there? Second, what if I wanted to get my master's degree?”

“Well, what I am going to give you for it won't be available until we get out there. And next, our master's program here works by way of signing up for it and beginning on your dissertation over the summer.”

“Oh, I see.” Her heart sank at that. “So—when do we go?”

“We head on out to the Golden State on the thirty first of July, and you begin your project on the fourth of August. I'm going to need you to sign some paperwork at some point so it's confirmed that you are in fact with me there.”

He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and even though she took it, an uneasy feeling emerged in the pit of her stomach and inside of her chest. Her fate was sealed right then. In two months' time, she had to relish every second she had with Joey over Christmas break. Their last one together.

She had to give him what she couldn't give to Cliff in their final Christmas together in the two years before. Two years ago she and Cliff spent Christmas at her parents' house! Two Christmases without him. After class, she told Marla about it, who almost fainted when she learned of the exact date of it all. She then told Belinda, who cupped her hands to her mouth to keep herself from doing anything drastic, and then she threw her arms around Sam.

“It's okay, Bel,” she sputtered from her tight grip, “—it's not like I'm leaving right now or even next week. It's the middle of next summer. It's still a ways off.”

“But you're still leaving us, though!” Belinda exclaimed with a break in her voice.

“She's leaving me, especially,” Marla joined in as she brushed away some tears.

“I just wonder how Aurora's gonna react to this,” Sam confessed. “I haven't spoken to her since Alex's birthday.”

“I saw her just yesterday, actually,” Belinda told her. “She and Emile were shopping for baby clothes. She's not showing, though, so part of me feels like she's faking it.”

“Understand, she's barely two months along, Bel,” Marla pointed out. “She will be eventually, though.”

Sam kept her eye on the look of disappointment on Marla's face as she said that, and she was disappointed, too. Aurora had gotten married and let it all go straight to her head: she could shake her head at Joey's antics to Alex all she wanted, but it was Aurora who hadn't thanked Alex for being in her wedding, and she made his special day all about herself. At the same time, she had no other means of coming in touch with Aurora, either. She had moved clear over to Long Island with Emile and with her packed schedule in school, there simply was no way for Sam to clear the air with her, her initial best friend.

As the days grew darker, and the rain froze over into ice followed by sleet and snow, so too did her wish to leave start a fresh new chapter in life. Granted, her move to New York proved to be a new chapter in and of itself, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt her travels out to California could serve as the next one. She was about to leave home for home again, but she had to finish the first arc before she moved onto the next one, and that was spending one good Christmas with Joey.

Winter came with a firm, vengeful grip on the Northeast come finals week and the middle of December, such that the snows blanketed everything to where it felt like they could bury everyone there alive. By the last day of school, Sam had signed the paperwork that Bill had left for her and thus, her fate had been sealed for the next summer. So caught up between both sides but the whole thing was inevitable.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, right next to Genie, with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate in hand, complete with the little marshmallows. Perhaps, even though it would be the summer time, she could teach her mother how to make Mexican hot chocolate, just like the kind she made for Cliff that morning.

She glanced down at Genie and that soft black fur. Careful not to wake her, she petted her head and her back. Genie never moved; instead, she gave her a soft purr. She hoped that she could take another photograph, that one of Genie for her parents to see for themselves when she got to see them again.

She sipped on her hot chocolate when there was a knock on the door.

“I'll get it,” Marla called out.

Another sip and then—

“Hey, Joey!”

“Mm, Joey's here?”

“Yeah! Frankie is, too!”

Her two best friends, back to her for one more Christmas in New York. Sam set down the cup on her desk and then she headed back into the front room.

Joey's eyes never looked so brighter than they had before then, even with the look of fatigue upon his face. His black curls stood on every which end atop his head.

“Holy fuck, that was a long flight,” he declared as part of his greeting; the fatigue in his voice meant it had been a grueling stint of the tour. Meanwhile, Frank stumbled into the apartment as well. He let out a long low whistle and then he spotted Sam in the hallway.

“There's our girl!” he proclaimed with his arms outstretched for her. Sam lunged for Frank first. If anything, he was her best friend. Her first real best friend there in New York, and she knew he would be in that position no matter where she went in the world. How she missed the soft musk on the side of his neck and the softest part of his lush black hair.

She then turned to Joey for an embrace as well, and he followed it up with a kiss on the side of her neck. He then held back and gazed right into her eyes.

As brown as the earth, but strangely liquid, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“How is everything?” Marla asked them as she rubbed her hands together.

“Yeah, how was the tour?” Sam joined in.

“Oh, my god, I wish you girls were with us,” Frank confessed. “Those European crowds are—crazy. Just insane. You thought the crowd in Boston was nuts—the crowd in Boston was like a graveyard compared to the people in Germany and Switzerland.”

“They are so passionate, though,” Joey added. “Like Frankie and I met some people before a few of the shows and they're just obsessed with the music.”

“The girls, too!” Frank declared.

“Oh, yeah, they were just ape shit about the Cherry Suicides, too. I think we were in Ireland? They did that song 'Dead Witches' where Zelda just goes crazy on the drums.”

“Yeah, it was Northern Ireland, Joey,” Frank said. “I remember 'cause that was Halloween night. They stretched the song to like twenty minutes, like Minerva just unleashed this huge solo.”

“They played it for like twenty minutes in Oslo and Sweden, too,” Joey added. “Like Minerva was wearin' this little Viking helmet as she did it, too, it was just the coolest thing. Hardcore punk rock made by a black Viking, dare I say.”

“Oh, and the guys loved them,” Frank recalled.

“Who, the Swedes or the Norwegians?”

“Both. Both crowds were just in awe of those girls.” He cleared his throat; he, too, had his fill of touring for the time being.

“Yeah, the Irish weren't too sure of them at first, but they warmed up to 'em pretty well, though. The Scandinavians, it was like instant love there. Kinda makes you wonder what's going on up there.”

“And I'm surprised Zelda doesn't have like giant tree trunks for calves,” Frank joked. “She basically hasn't taken off those duct tape boots Chuck gave her.”

“Although we also performed a few dates here in the States,” Joey continued, “there was just no way we could come in contact with you girls 'cause we were like manically hoppin' around the place. We finished up in Dallas just yesterday, and I am just bushed right now.”

“Wow,” Sam breathed out, “where is Zelda, by the way?”

“Oh, they went back to Rhode Island already,” Frank told her. “Although Joey has sump'n for ya in his car downstairs.”

“Yeah.” Joey showed her that crooked smile and Sam followed him outside, to the cold gray blanket overhead and the thick layer of pure white snow all around them.

His car parked there at the curb, and Sam could make out the sight of something in the back seat.

“So for the last few dates of the tour,” he began over the noise of the street, “I realized that—this is gonna be our last holiday break together.”

“And it's confirmed now,” she told him as they stood before the side of the car.

“It's confirmed!” he exclaimed and he gaped at her.

“It's confirmed. I leave July thirty first.”

Joey swallowed, and Sam could see the tears in his eyes.

“I should tell you this then,” he started as he tucked his hands into his coat pockets.

“What?”

He lingered closer to her body. “I cherish every moment I have with you, Sam,” Joey told her. “I know I can lose you.”

She peered up to the sky, at the first little flurries of snow as it fluttered down from the gray overhead. She brought her gaze down to the right side of the street, at all the twinkling Christmas lights as they decorated the trees along the sides of the street. Her last Christmas in New York with Joey. The snow was about to bury them both if they didn't act right then and there.

“I cherish every moment I have with you,” he repeated; and he leaned in for an embrace upon her lips. Sweet and soft, like molten dark chocolate; warm and silken, like the cup of Mexican hot chocolate that she had made for Cliff that one morning. For the first time in a year, everything reminded her of Cliff, but at the same time, it reminded her of Joey. Something new, something unique, something completely different than what she had known before.

He held back and gazed right into her face.

“I wish you didn't have to leave,” he told her.

“I wish I didn't, either,” she confessed, and she couldn't resist the tears in her eyes. “What do you want to give me, by the way?”

“Just that,” he whispered to her. “The only thing in the car here is my guitar. And yeah—it's officially my guitar now.”

She brought her lips to his again. They didn't need any mistletoe to believe it between them.