#no but for real if i reread this in the morning and find it uncomfortable i'm gonna tuck it back in my drafts to reconsider

[bitchyycapricorn]

Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.7K

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of sex, cheating, masterbation (M), mentions of death, mentions of murder, open wounds/cuts

AN: This part and future parts will contain graphic content! Not edited.

Peter looks at Ned for a moment, still trying to understand how any of this was possible. “We have to figure this out, meet me at my apartment at 4, we can start our research then.” Peter says before turning to leave.

“Wait, but we get out of classes today at 12, I can be there by at least 1, wouldn’t that work better?” Ned asks, not wanting to admit that he was overly excited for possibly cracking the case on what really happened.

Peter shook his head, throwing a glance over his shoulder, “No, you need to see Y/N after school. Don’t leave her alone it’s, it’s important to her. It already bothers her enough that we both decided to join a Saturday class last minute.” Ned watches as Peter starts heading back inside to see MJ. He could tell by his voice and the way he was walking that the separation was taking a real toll on Peter. Peter knew it too, even talking about you made his stomach turn and his mind wander back to your soft lips.

“So this neighbor girl,” MJ says as Peter sits back down next to her. “Is she pretty?”

Peter pauses, meeting MJ’s gaze. “Why do you ask?” He laughs nervously.

MJ hums, looking down at her book. “Well, we’ve been friends since high school, I’m your girlfriend now, and yet I’ve somehow never heard of this Y/N girl. It’s just strange is all.”

The guilty feeling from earlier starts to bubble up in Peter’s stomach again as he realizes that of course MJ would be uncomfortable with him talking to another girl. Wouldn’t he have a problem with her talking to a new guy without telling him? “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. Honestly she just wasn’t important enough to me, didn’t really think of mentioning her because I’m never thinking about her.” Peter lies, shifting his gaze down to his book as well.

“You seemed pretty interested when Ned had news about her though.” MJ counters.

Peter shrugs, trying his best to seem like he didn’t care about you. “Thought they finally got together.” Another lie.

MJ casts Peter another look before letting it go, “I believe you.” She presses a kiss to his lips, snuggling into his shoulder. Peter can feel his heart drop, he needs to get you taken care of so he can focus on MJ and MJ alone.

+++

“Hey sorry I’m late.” Ned says as he drops his bag on the floor. “Y/N and I were playing video games again, she’s like wicked good.”

Peter frowns, his eyes wandering over to the two controllers left abandoned near his TV. “Yeah she is pretty good..” his voice trails off a moment, thinking about you once again. “Not important though, we have some research to do.” Peter opens up his laptop, quickly searching up the elevator explosion eight years ago.

Ned’s eyes widen as he begins to read some of the headline articles. “Holy smokes dude, look at all of these. Six missing children? All before the elevator collapsed?”

Peter furrows his eyebrows, clicking on one of the links. “Parents of 11 year old Y/N L/N claim elevator collapse was a coverup, their daughter had been missing since 10 that morning….” Peter scrolls down a little more. “Ned..”

“Peter?” Ned asks, trying to find where Peter was in the article before pausing as well. “Oh…”

Peter reread the sentence again, “No bodies were found…police believe they disintegrated…that’s not, not possible.” Peter clicked out of the article, hopping over to another one. “They all say the same thing, children going missing, some almost a week prior to the accident.”

“Wait look,” Ned cut in, pointing to a paragraph on the screen. “Some of the children reported a game of hide and seek occurring when parents began questioning the whereabouts of their missing children. These reports were taken days before the accident.”

Peter sat back in his chair, his head swimming with questions. “The elevator was no accident. But then the question is, where did the children actually go? We know Y/N is, mostly dead. But she never mentioned the other kids being around here, and I haven’t ever seen them either.”

Ned gives a weak shrug, still scanning the information on the computer. “The only one who will have answers is Y/N, but she isn’t exactly too open to talking. She broke down when she started to open up about it last time.”

Peter gave a small sign, “Right.”

Clicking out of the article he continues to browse. Stumbling on dead end after dead end. His head began to hurt as the hours tick by. Ned eventually going to lay on Peter’s bed after about an hour of useless or repeated information. At about the four hour mark Peter stumbles upon a website that contains supposed video footage. “Hey Ned, come look at this.” Peter says, clicking on one of the videos. Ned stumbles over to the desk, leaning down so he can listen with Peter. The video appears to be taken in the lobby at night, the faint sounds of crying can be heard from what appears to be below the building. “This was taken a day before the elevator collapsed. The person recording had reported hearing voices of children coming from below the building.”

Ned looks over to Peter hesitantly “Peter you don’t think-“

“Y/N was murdered.”

+++

You hadn’t spoken to Peter in nearly a week, as far as you knew him and MJ were still a stupid happy couple that you never ever wanted to see again. The issue is, you still needed to move your stuff from under the floorboard into Ned’s room. Which is exactly why you decided now would be the best time to go retrieve your stuff while both Peter and Ned were at their Saturday afternoon class. You made your way through the walls and down to your old apartment, floating through the door and into the living room. You look around for a moment, wishing you could stay here once again.

Your attention was pulled away from the room by the sound of a soft moan followed by your name coming from Peter’s room. You furrow your eyebrows, floating through the wall and into his closet where you peak through the sliver once again. Through the crack you could see Peter, his head was thrown back on the pillows while his mouth was agape, his bedsheet barley covering his lower half.

“Ah fuck Y/N,” Peter groans, his hand slowly moving up and down his shaft, completely oblivious to your presence in the room. His actions had started as an innocent destresser really. He had skipped going to class today and opted to watch a movie in hopes of getting his mind off everything until he built up the confidence to talk to you again. But as his mind began to wander vivid thoughts of you kept reappearing over and over again. Your lips being the main focus, since he knew how they felt on his own. His mind of course only wandered from there. Now as he lay there slowly stroking himself all he can thing about was the way your body felt as he held you, and the way you touched his chest as you helped to sew him back up.

His pace got quicker, another grunt leaving his lips as he thrusted up into his hand slowly. “Peter?” You whisper, slowly stepping out of his closet. Peter’s eyes flew open, his head snapping to the direction of your voice.

“Oh my, fuck Y/N, what are you?” Peter stutters, pulling the covers closer to his body.

Your eyes slowly scan Peters body, “You were saying my name.”

Peter’s eyes met yours, his face turning a bright shade of red realizing there was nothing he could say at this point. “I didn’t, I’m sorry it just happened. I was so, and you’re so, and you’re all I can think about.”

You took a step closer to Peter, allowing your body to go solid. A rush of feelings suddenly washes over you, your stomach doing a small flip while the rest of you felt tingly. “Peter do you like me?” Your voice came out just barley a whisper, but he could hear you perfectly.

“I-“ he stutters.

“If I took my cloths off and joined you…would you object?”

Peter’s mind went blank, suddenly you were the only person there with him. Sitting up a little more he shook his head ‘no.’ “You can, I want you to,”

A small smile spreads across your face as you grab the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up and off your body.

Peter’s eyes widen “Holy shit,” he says, quickly slipping back on his boxers under the bed. He stumbles out from under the covers approaching ing you quickly. His eyes scan your now mostly topless figure. “What, what happened?” His finger slowly traces the cuts on your stomach.

You look down as well, your eyebrows furrowing at the sight. “I-I don’t know.” You say slowly. The cuts weren’t scars, but rather marks that appear to have simply stopped bleeding, but never scabbed up or healed.

“Y/N, what really happened to you?” Peter says slowly, his finger brushing the wounds.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, “I really don’t know Peter. I don’t remember anything, not really. I remember the people saying that there was an accident with the elevator, I remember there being others, I remember..” you pause, looking behind you at the closet. “Under the floorboard…” you whisper.

Peter follows your gaze to the closet, removing his hand from your abdomen. He moves slowly towards the closet, opening it fully so he can look down at the floorboards clearly.

“Can you see it? Where it does not fit all the way?” You ask quietly. Peter nods, kneeling down to pry the board from the floor. He struggles with it for a moment before you hear it pop open. He looks down, reaching in to pick up a picture laying face down.

Peter slowly turns it over in his hand, his whole body freezing up at the sight. “What did he do to you?” Is all he’s able to say, as he stares at the fading image.

+++

TAGLIST

@dandelionqueen @etaerealboy

[blissfullyecho]

I have an absolutely appalling sleep schedule. I have to wake up every morning at around 6:30 for classes, but my problem lies in my bedtime. I go to sleep around 1-2 and end up tired all day. I usually read my romance novels or scroll through reels or YouTube shorts during this time. I really want to change my habits but I'm having difficulty cutting the scrolling habit and the urge to reach for my phone at night. I can't even turn it off because I live alone. any ideas how I can change this?

breaking the habit of endless scrolling before bed

find your reason as to why you are reaching on your phone

the questions you should ask yourself is 1) when do i pull out my phone? 2) what am i searching when i reach for my phone? 3) why do i feel the need to reach for my phone / why am i attached to it?

the first question you may or may not have an answer straight away. it might take you a couple nights of picking up your phone in order for you to answer that question, which is fine, habits take time to break. so first consider how long you typically go without picking up your phone before bed. are you able to stay off your phone for 20 minutes or is it more like five minutes? the next thing you should ask yourself is what are you looking for when you pick up your phone. are you looking at specific content like personal development, fitness, studying, cooking, etc.? or are you looking to see how many story views, likes, and comments you got on social media? are you stalking your ex? are you trying to find another way to be entertained because you’re not being entertained? you have to be real with yourself first and foremost and interrogate yourself and get to the bottom line. again, you might not find an answer immediately, but eventually you will. lastly, you need to ask yourself why do you feel the need to pull your phone out. are you bored and you’re looking for entertainment, are you stressed and the first thing you do is reach for your phone whenever a little bit of anxiety hits? basically, tap into those emotions and those feelings the next time you feel the need to reach for your phone and ask yourself why am i doing this right now? feel free to go back to this question and reread my answer and ask yourself those three questions. this is a way for you to get to know yourself better, and to be more mindful of your actions. 

is it a lack of being entertained?

if you find that you’re not necessarily being entertained, you have to understand that you shouldn’t be entertained before bed. being entertained doesn’t allow you to wind down, relax, and eventually get a good nights rest. i don’t know if you have kids, but if you had a small child and they said to you that they couldn’t go to sleep because they’re distracted because of a toy that they really want to play with, you would tell them ‘no, you can play it tomorrow. go to bed’ because there’s no need for anyone to be entertained before bed. this is a time where you can look into reparenting yourself or to talk to yourself like a parent talks to their child. parents don’t say no because they don’t want their kids to have fun, they say no because they know what’s best for them. something that has recently worked for me when I’m trying to wind down but I still want to be entertained, is i take out my journal and whatever i want to watch on youtube, let’s say it’s personal development, i will write down a script as if I am a youtuber and that gives me the benefit of being entertained while also winding down because writing is very relaxing. you might also try making bullet journals, adult coloring books, or maybe listening to an audiobook. these ideas help you relax your mind, but also keep you a little bit entertained until your eyes get heavy.

is it a stress/anxiety coping mechanism?

i don’t know about you, but sometimes whenever i am in an uncomfortable situation, i reach for my phone because it feels like a safety net. if this is you, find other ways to ease your anxiety, and to ease your stress. this might be going on youtube and listening to a sleep meditation. maybe you want to do a stretching session that you can do in bed to relax your muscles. if you’re struggling with stress and anxiety before bed, you need to look for other ways to cope.

what can you do instead?

1) listen to an audiobook

2) adult coloring books

3) writing / journaling / bullet journaling

4) meditation

5) daydream / mental stories in your head

6) exercise a couple hours before bed

7) keep apartment/dorm/house/room dimly lit for a few hours before bed to trigger the “night time” sleep response from your brain

8) ***this really helps me*** i have a song i play about an hour before bed and now whenever i hear the song, i yawn because my body knows it’s time for sleep.

but most importantly, you have to find what’s best for you. so tonight or anytime you feel the need to reach for your phone before bed, stop yourself and ask “why am i doing this? what emotions am i feeling that triggers this? what am i looking to gain while being on my phone right now?” and don’t say “nothing”!!!! there IS a reason for everything, you just have to find it. then once you do, you should find alternatives to help get passed the phone habit.

i hope i helped! 🤍

[super-rangers]

i'm rereading uiw becuase fuck it i'm crazy and hyperfixated and late to the party, so i wanted to get a chance to read the story and the uiw posts and asks here in real time, so get ready for a few comments lol

first one (not even in order but i have been thinking about it) is that i LOVE the little interactions regina has with aaron, especially taking his hat to protect from the sun lol i'm a sucker for an exes to friends and she's never liked that man but they have INTIMACY, and i love it 10/10 what other little things do you think she does because they share this intimacy? or do you think she gets weirded out by some things he does with cady bc she remembers they did it together (and her being Not Into Men didn't like it?)

i'll (probably) be asking more as i read if that's okay ^u

I’m so glad you like their interactions!! I’m such a fan of their platonic dynamic bc you’re right, they do have a lot of intimacy and the way they handle it is fun to explore.

As part of my original idea, I had Aaron being one of the main people telling Regina that she needs to confess her feelings to Janis. The scene where Janis follows Regina to the swing set during the t-ball game was completely repurposed from a Regina and Aaron scene later in the story where Aaron’s the one finding Regina on the swings (angsting about Janis instead of her dad ofc) and telling her point blank that it’s getting ridiculous that she’s keeping her feelings to herself.

In some ways, he’s very similar to Damian in that he doesn’t take as much of Regina’s shit as her other friends do. Like he’s still a bit of a pushover but being in a healthy relationship really gave that kid a bit of perspective (as well as a little bit of a backbone) and the ability to call Regina out – not that we saw it in UIW much lol.

Went on a bit of a tangent sorry about that

ANYWAYS

I’m going to be honest, I think Regina avoids thinking about just how close her and Aaron are 😂 Too much introspection for her. She knows that she’s comfortable with him, and that’s enough for her.

In regard to how their intimacy might manifest, we saw it a little bit when Regina was talking about her dad leaving with everyone. Instead of going to any of her other friends, Regina turns to Aaron when she questions whether it’s bad that she doesn’t miss her dad. He’s kind of that touchpoint for her emotionally bc – very similarly to Gretchen – he saw her at her worst and still liked her. (I mean, that’s fully because he’s a teenage boy and Regina hot, but let’s pretend there’s a little bit more behind it lol) She doesn’t go to him with everything, but he’s definitely one of the people she’ll talk to when she needs to check a particular emotional response.

As a lighter example, I think she continues to steal his clothes. And, when the whole gang gets together for a sleepover or trip or something, I think Regina is comfortable being in that kind of sleepy-cuddly state with 2 people – Janis and Aaron. In the mornings while Janis is still asleep, I think Regina fully gets Aaron to make her a coffee and just leans against him with her head on his shoulder completely zoned out until she’s fully awake. Physical affection is still a challenge for Regina except when it comes to Janis and Aaron. She does not analyze what that says about how much she values Aaron, and none of her friends bring it up bc they think it’s adorable.

One day Regina’s going to realize that Aaron is her best guy friend and she’s going to hate it

She definitely gets weirded out by some things he does with Cady. It’s more about the sappiness and emotion behind the actions than the actions themselves, tho? Like, she’s not going to mind seeing Cady and Aaron cuddle on the couch or have a standing date night or see him give Cady a gift out of nowhere or any number of things.

It’s more going to be about Regina realizing that she wants those things now with Janis and being uncomfortable with the fact that she was so blind to her own sexuality when she had such disdain for someone she claimed to like trying to do nice things for her. She wants all of those mushy things with Janis – she wants to sit close to her as much as possible, having a standing date night sounds like a dream, and every time she sees something that reminds her of Janis, she buys it as a gift. Seeing his actions towards Cady just recontextualizes her own past in regard to the way she feels now

This got very long lol oops I didn’t realize I had that much to say about them

Also don’t apologize for asking questions!! I love receiving them and (obviously from this reply) I love to yap

[mondayborn]

Blind Channel advent calendar

Day 21: „The mistletoe“

As Olli was walking the last steps to the Helsinki Ice Hall for their last practice before christmas he still couldn’t believe they were going to be playing that venue soon. Of course it had always been their dream to play there, but to see it actually happening was just…it just didn’t feel real.

There was another thing on his mind though, and that was what his boys were up to right now. He was actually the last one to join the rehersal due to a last minute appointment, and he knew there was probably madness going on inside the venue right now. He also received a text from Joonas telling him to text him when he arrived at the venue, which meant he was probably up to something. Well it was nothing new to him, he knew to always expect the unexpected with either of them.

When Olli walked to their practice area he could see Joonas waiting for him in the doorway.

„Hi Olli“ Joonas greeted him with a smirk on his face, going in for a hug. A hug that Olli of course returned straight away. When they seperated again, Joonas didn’t move out of the doorway, but instead looked at him expectantly with the smirk from before even wider on his face.

„Joonas can we…“ Olli broke of, gesturing for him to move into the room instead.

„Kiss first“ Joonas replied coming closer to Olli instead of moving away from him.

„Have I missed something?“ Olli asked confused but also slightly amused because this was just so Porko.

Instead of answering Joonas pointed up. When Olli spotted what he was pointing at everything made sense and he began to laugh.

„How did that even get here“ he still managed to get out.

„Oh you see our dearest Porko put that up himself this morning before everyone arrived“ Niko chimed into the conversation, coming up behind Joonas and petting him on the shoulder.

„An opportunity I just couldn’t miss“ Joonas said, sounding and looking quite proud of himself.

„Yeah he really did not miss one opportunity with this. Those lips have touched us all“ Aleksi entered the conversation aswell.

„Well everyone but you Olli“ Joonas looked at him in expectation.

„Bisou bisou my dearest Olli“

- 🦋 wearing a santa hat

First of all I am so sorry that this is arriving two days late. I also had a bit of a hard time thinking about what to write for you, but than thought of this when I reread your kiss fics. I hope you like it, or maybe just find it a bit amusing at least. Please let me know though if you dont like it so I can write you another one.

Thank you this is really cute very Joonas 🤲

I have to be honest though the accompanying message made me very uncomfortable. I didn't sign up for whatever this little project is so to me this is very much a gift, something you did because you chose to.

Therefore dear 🦋 wearing a santa hat I would never ever think to:

a) blame you for being late (I didn't even know I was receiving a gift so why should I think this is late?)

b) say I don't like it (that would be crazy ungrateful! no one is entitled to extra fics from you)

People will like your work and people won't but the latter better shut up and say thank you because it's a gift!

[ownsun]

𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠⠀:⠀CONTROL⠀»⠀⠀

          as you’d expect ,  control is a big aspect of any werewolf’s personality     —     in fact ,  it’s borderline essential to most werewolf characteristics if one wants to interact cohesively with the rest of the world .     however ,  jacob responds to his own sudden ,  unanticipated lycanthropy with far more intensity than most .     overnight ,  jacob’s entire life is turned upon its head without his consent ,   accompanied by the trauma of his first shift  &  what it means to be a werewolf at all ,  the cushion to all of it is a man he’d been so suspicious of ,  pulling friends  &  acquaintances bit by bit away from their previous lives until they’re no longer familiar .     it’s a lot ,  on top of the everyday stresses that come with his life already ,  as well as his more recent investment in helping bella cope with her own demons along the way .     his life is suddenly dangerous  &  unfamiliar in every place he needs it to feel safe  &  secure .     his actions themselves  &  even his own feelings are suddenly so untethered from the person he spent all his life becoming ,  they barely feel like his anymore .

          the responding coping methods quickly devolve .

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫

          there are two main components to most anxiety disorders .  firstly ,  the given  anxiety  itself ;  more specifically ,  the initial process of something causing distressing ,  persistent anxiety     —     &  then often the resulting  dysfunctional behaviors  that reduce the anxiety .  ocd itself usually has noteworthy     ‘  types  ’     :  cleaning  &  contamination ,  symmetry  &  ordering ,  forbidden or harmful thoughts  &  impulses ,  &  hoarding .     because jacob’s symptoms lie mostly in the ordering  &  thoughts / impulses category ,  i will only be going over these two in this headcanon .

          ordering  :  a big part of jacob’s anxiety is over control     (  moreso the lack of it  )     is the feeling that he does not belong to himself .     his thoughts  &  feelings are shared with an entire pack of other people when he’s a wolf .     his future partner is borderline if not entirely guaranteed to be someone he won’t get to choose ,  but instead his brain will choose for him ,  which in of itself isn’t nearly as terrifying as the prospect that he won’t even be able to choose for himself how he will feel about it ,  that even his right to forming his own thoughts will be robbed of him.     shifting into a creature that’s just as powerful as it is deadly is something that can happen to him at the drop of a hat ,  at any moment ,  any time ,  as long as his emotions behave even remotely in their own accord ,  which . . .     is how emotions tend to work .     

          this is one of jacob’s obsessions ,  &  what helps to reduce this is to meticulously keep track of  &  control what he needs to believe is his .     naturally ,  this means most of this meticulousness is reserved for his own things ;  his room ,  his belongings ,  his clothes ,  his hair .     everything has to be a certain way now ,  because in everything he does ,  there is now a desperate need to keep hold of it ,  a compensation to the thought that he's going to lose it all .     everything in his room  &  the garage has it’s place ,  deliberate  &  intentional to the point that if someone touches or grabs at one of his things ,  even if it’s to simply look  &  set back down ,  anxiety spikes  &  he hovers ,  escalatingly irritable until he can personally return it to it’s rightful spot .

          another habit to reduce this feeling is being deliberate  &  habitual with his own body .     routines like morning jogging ,  or the time in which he showers or wakes up ,  are opportunities to own his own physical actions .     if outside any of specific routine of his ,  counting his own steps is an accessible method to achieve the same sense of security within his own actions .     brushing or braiding his hair is also helpful  &  another reason why he doesn’t want it cut ,  as well as the permeating desire to remain as himself as he was before he was a werewolf .

          thoughts  &  impulses  :  this one’s honestly the doozy of the two .     actions are worrisome  &  the impulse part of the two ,  but the idea that his own thoughts aren’t his is foundationally destressing to his sense of autonomous identity .     with being part animal comes the instincts of one     —     the instincts of a predator at that ;  to hunt ,  to prioritize  &  optimize survival ,  to respond to fear with violent self defense or complete concession ,  to obtain power in physical feats .     most of these behaviors are a direct contrast to his personality before his first shift .     the person he thought he was  &  wanted to be was generous ,  thoughtful ,  nurturing ,  someone who cared to indulge in the unnecessary ,  to fix things  &  to thrive ,  to do things just because ,  no personal survival or reward necessary ,  no need to compete in the ongoing power struggle of nature .     that’s not to say wolves don’t participate in any of these qualities     —     in fact ,  jacob knows real wolves’ behaviors aren’t that black  &  white or brutal .     (  funnily enough ,  this fear-fueled black  &  white thinking can be more alike to the animalistic instincts he’s desperately trying to avoid  )     it’s the anxiety of the shift itself being something he doesn’t get a say in ,  that it’s completely at the whim of fickle ,  moment to moment ,  fluid  &  irrational emotions .     that anxiety only ever snowballs any stress he might already feel that could prompt a shift .     anger that would otherwise be fleeting becomes fear that his mind can’t stop obsessing over until he can soothe it somehow ,  assure him that he is in control ,  &  that he won’t hurt anyone unless he himself decides to .

          unfortunately ,  one of the quickest  &  easiest ways to stop a shift is pain .     intense pain interrupts the self defense mechanism of shifting to prioritize the healing process instead .     if ever jacob feels like he’s genuinely on the verge of an unintentional shift ,  the quick snap of an arm over his knee or clamp of the jaws into his hand is usually enough to short-circuit the process ,  moreso if the shift has already come  &  gone before he could stop it .     pain becomes soothing ,  an act he feels the benefit of choosing ,  as well as controlling a shift  &  ensuring that if someone is to suffer for his lack of control ,  it will be him alone ,  &  it will be his decision .

          another far less damaging coping method is to ask someone for help .  this may seem rather simple ,  but it requires far more patience  &  awareness than breaking his own bones ,  as well as admitting out loud to others something he’s deemed a moral failing of his ,  a personal defect .  even just asking someone to remind him who he was is can be grounding ,  which is something he would have learned the moment bella responded to the voicing of his fear of losing himself with reassurance that he just wouldn’t ,  that she’d be there to remind him ,  whenever he needed ,  that she simply wouldn’t let it happen .     that confidence in ones own ability is something he envies as well as hopes to believe in ,  even if it’s childish ,  even if it’s vicariously through whoever gives it     (  if he trusts them enough for it to mean something to him  ) .     group activities that engage his sense of self before monsters existed offer a dual calm ,  one instilled by doing the activity itself ,  another by having someone else to verify  &  confirm his own behavior to him just by being there to respond to the familiar ,  human jacob that always existed before he ever had a reason to question it .

          a tragic irony is that when jacob is a wolf ,  most of these anxieties evaporate immediately  &  get replaced with a simpler experience of reality .     instincts sharpen the world ,  narrow it to focus ,  refine actions  &  reactions to the present moment in which fear is much harder to conceive ,  as fear by nature is based on theoretical what-ifs .     eventually ,  a healthier way to experience his own lycanthropy would be to accept all aspects of himself ,  both human  &  wolf ,  but with the entire invasion of the supernatural into his life so fresh ,  he’s desperate to cling to his own personhood ,  which is very much steeped in the version of him that didn’t even know werewolves existed ,  much less that he was one  &  what it means .

there’s no room to learn what kind of werewolf jacob black wants to be when he doesn’t feel like that’s something he ever got to choose ,  or ever will .     &  so ,  it remains something to fear ,  which means it remains something he cannot control .

[cevansbrat0007]

Forever Partners

Summary: After moving into your new home, everything is wonderful until you and Andy receive a disturbing note on your doorstep. How will you and your new husband handle it? And how will it affect your relationship? Read Part Two.

*Warnings: Angst, Assholes, Protective Andy, Hurt Reader, Racial Language & Situations, Daddy Kink, Cursing, Spanking, Pet Names, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own. ___

You sit there with your head in your hands, tears quietly streaming down your cheeks. Andy is livid as he rereads the letter that had been left on your doorstep this morning. 

You’d been the one to find it, which had broken his heart. You’d just gotten married and had moved to this particular neighborhood a little over two months ago. Everyone had been lovely…except for one person.

The letter had said that people who looked like you weren’t welcome in this neighborhood, and that if you knew what was good for you, then you’d get the fuck out it. The person who wrote it made sure to let you know that if they wanted to see a monkey wandering around, then they’d go to the zoo. They’d called your husband a traitor to his race, to his own people. And that if Andy was as smart as he’d claimed to be, that he ought to dump you (that black bitch) and get himself a real woman. The writer had ended it by saying that he hated living on a street with both a nigger and a nigger lover, because it brought down the property values. “Baby.” Andy whispers, pulling you into his arms. “Baby no…” He kisses the top of your head. “Please tell me you don’t believe any of that bullshit.” You sob quietly. Of course you didn’t, but it doesn’t mean that the words didn’t hurt.   “No, Andy…but I’m just so angry. I have literally done nothing to that man.” You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his cologne. The action soothes you somewhat. “I mean, I tried to be friendly at first. But then after a while I realized that he…” You trail off as you struggle to find the right words.  Your eyes meet Andy’s. “When you’re any kind of self-aware, a lot of times you can pick up when someone doesn’t care for you because you’re too…brown or too…whatever. Some people think it’s ridiculous. That you’re making something out of nothing. But you’re not.” Your husband leans down to brush his nose over yours. “I know you’re not being ridiculous. Y/N, I may not know exactly what it’s like since I’m, uh, a straight white guy. But I have had this conversation with others and they all say the same. They all tell me that they have to trust their gut sometimes, how it’s helped them…I mean…ah fuck!”  Your small hand cups his face to gently stroke his beard. “No, Andy. You may not exactly know what it’s like, but you listen. You listen to me and you believe me.” He lays his hand over top of your own. “I’ve never once felt that you were ashamed or felt uncomfortable to be seen with me. Even in the beginning, and before you ask, the answer is yes. I did look for signs, I was hyper-aware.” You sniffle. “I wasn’t just some…some…bucket list black girl to you.”  You take a deep breath before continuing. “You weren’t fetishizing me for my skin color.” He sighs deeply. “Of course not. When I saw you that night…I thought you were the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen. Of course I noticed you were black, but baby, that had nothing to do with it. I find your skin beautiful because it’s yours. It’s just a part of the whole magical package that is you.” You both look down at your clasped hands, noting the contrast in your skin tones. “Look at us.” Andy whispers. “Look at how beautiful we are. Look at all the love we have right here.” He rests your joined hands against his heart.  “Y/N, I’m going to take care of this.” Andy assures you with steely determination. “I’m going to take this letter into the office today and we’re going to explore options. This is our home and our neighborhood, and I damn sure will not sit idly by and watch my wife be harassed for the beauty she was born with, okay?” “Okay, Andy.” You press your lips to his, moaning when he deepens the kiss. One of his hands dives into your hair, massaging your scalp. He smiles at you when you both finally pull away, your faces flushed and breathing erratic. “I’ll let you know what’s going on as it happens, but until then I want you to be careful.” You nod at that. “And most of all, do not pick a fight with him. I know how much you want to go over there and raise hell.” Oh now that you've calmed down a little bit? Yes, yes you did. Anyone brave enough to come for you and your man...just plain stupid.  He raises a tawny brow at you. “And we will confront him, but we’ll do it together.” He kisses your nose. “I’ve got to get to work now. Just try to have a good day for me, alright?” You nod again. Snuggling even deeper into his hard chest. “I love you, Andy.” “I love you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”  After Andy leaves, you putter around the house trying to keep yourself occupied. Of course the anger and indignation continued to grow and fester, but you’d made a promise to your husband that you wouldn’t go over to that racist pig’s house and slam his head into a wall or beat him with a tire iron. You didn’t even own a tire iron, but you knew you could find one. And you tried to keep that promise. You did. And you lasted exactly three hours and forty-seven minutes. Some would say that your restraint was impressive.  It started when you went out to grab the mail. You’d waved at your neighbors, Walter and his wife Carol as they were bringing in groceries. You loved those two. The first week you and Andy had moved in, they’d invited you over for dinner. They were in their early sixties and they’d never had children of their own, so you kind of got the impression that the two of them wanted to “adopt” you and Andy. Fine by you. After retrieving the mail, you looked up and caught sight of Richard Jeffries, the racist prick who’d left that letter. And before you knew it, your feet were moving on their own accord. The monster inside you had been unleashed, and this spineless coward was about to hear you roar.  “Hey!” You shouted. “Hey, Jeffries!” The man in question turns to look at you, his face instantly morphing into a sneer. “The next time you decide that you have a fucking problem with me and my husband, then you be a man and come say it to our vanilla and chocolate faces. You got that?” Jeffries just looks at you for a moment. “I think I was very clear about my feelings in my note.” He turns to go inside. “Yeah well, only punk ass bitches like you leave notes. You come tell this monkey how you feel about her to her face the next time you’re all in your feelings so she can shove the nonexistent banana she’s holding down your throat and watch you choke on it.” He turns so fast it gives you whiplash. In a flash he’s coming down the stairs, which is cool with you because you’re coming towards him. Bring it on, Jim Bob. Now he’s in your face. And even though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you’re not scared, because this is not the first time you’ve ever dealt with a dickhead. And the way he’d talked about your husband…you’d crack someone’s skull for him any day. “Just because you shook your ass a little and managed to trap yourself a nice white man doesn’t make you anything. You ought to be a little more respectful of your betters.”  Oh that was rich. If he knew the truth about your relationship, then he’d know that your husband had all but trapped you. Once Andy Barber had set his sights on you, you hadn’t stood a chance. The man was relentless both in and out of the courtroom.  You feel yourself shaking now. “Oh, I will be…when I see one.” His lip curls in disgust. “You see, my husband and I, and he’s a very smart man by the way, we’re not moving. So if you don’t like it, then you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood.” “Maybe I will, before you two overrun it with all your little brown half-breed babies.” You stare at him for a second, trying to get a handle on the rage bubbling up inside. Today is the day I go to jail. You think to yourself.  You watch as his hand curls into a fist at his side as if he wants to hit you. “Try it.” You hiss. “I dare you.”  “Well I would never hit a woman, but since you’re not much of one I guess it wouldn’t matter. I’ll save that special pleasure for later, count on it. Now if you excuse me, nigg-” His words are cut off by a voice behind you.  Walter. You turn to face him, still keeping an eye on Jeffries. “If you even think about finishing that statement I am going to be forced to introduce my fist to your teeth. And you won’t like that very much, I can guarantee it, because you will lose some of ‘em.” Walter’s menacing glare never once falters. “If you’ve got a problem with this beautiful, smart, intelligent young couple, then you’ve got a problem with us. And Jeffries, we’ve always had a problem with you. Now walk away.” A slightly shocked Jeffries backs up. “Yeah well, you tell this…this woman here that if she sees me out that she had better cross the street.”   You open up your mouth to retort, but an angry Walter beats you to it. Stepping up, he pokes the other man in his chest, hard. “No. If you see her out and about then you had better cross the street, because if I hear you’ve said anything else to her…” The other man backs up, palms raised. “I’ve said my piece.” Jeffries turns and walks away without another word.  Once he’s gone, your fatherly neighbor wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the street. Instead of taking you home, you end up at his place. The moment his wife wraps her loving arms around you…well that’s when you finally allow yourself to cry. Carol holds you the whole time. A little while later, they finally walk you home. When they offer to reach out to Andy for you, you are quick to tell them that it’s not necessary because you were fine and you didn’t want to bother him. You assure them that you’ll talk to him about it tonight. And of course all those reasons are true, but what they didn’t know was that the moment he found out about your little altercation, your ass would be literal burnt toast. When you’re back inside, you take a shower to rinse off the “ick” of the day and then start prepping dinner. Which was nice because it took your mind off things. You loved cooking with a passion, and your husband was always quick to devour whatever you whipped up, even when it didn’t quite turn out quite right.  The man had once choked down a quiche you’d made that probably would have been better off being tossed into the harbor… Dressed in a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and one of Andy’s over-sized t-shirts, you start dicing onions, carrots and mushrooms for the chicken you’re planning to roast. Next is the herbed butter rub. Once you’ve got those ready, you add the veggies to the pan and season them, then you add the chicken, making sure to generously rub the butter mixture all over and under the skin. A little bit of chicken stock, half an apple, and a few sprigs of rosemary later and you are good to go. Let’s get this baby in the oven. Next is the potatoes. Now Andy loves your creamy garlic whipped mashed potatoes. No problem. By the time he gets home, you’re working on your homemade dressing for your salad. Andy walks through the door just as you start mixing things together.  “Hi, my love.” He drops his briefcase and immediately takes you into his arms. God, it feels good. “Mmm Y/N, you smell so good. Love seeing you in my shirts.” He pulls back to look into your eyes. “How are you feeling, baby?” You reach up to smooth away the worried wrinkles on his forehead. “I’m fine, Andy. How are you?” He sighs and kisses your lips all soft and sweet.  “Still pissed, baby. Don’t have anything for you yet, but a restraining order is definitely in the works. I’m not happy about that letter by any means, but I’m thrilled the dipshit signed it. Makes things easier.” You cup his face with your garlicky hands. “Thank you, Andy.”  “You don’t have to thank me for protecting what’s mine. Not now, not ever.” Your face breaks into a smile at that. “Now what are we having for dinner? I’m starving…”  “Um, roasted chicken with garlic whipped mashed potatoes and a salad with homemade dressing,” you gesture towards the mixing bowl. “And maybe a gravy if I can swing it.” Andy groans at that.  “Y/N, you spoil me too much. I’ve pretty much given up on ever having visible abs ever again.” You swat him, knowing his claims are total bullshit. His body was rock hard. “Oh be quiet, Andy. You’re a fucking stud muffin and you know it.” He blushes a little at that. Andy leans in for a kiss just as the doorbell rings. “I’ve got it honey. You keep doing what you’re doing.”  Your husband goes to get the door as you keep mixing ingredients. You keep working for a few minutes until it suddenly registers that you recognize the voices. It was Walter and Carol. Oh holy fuck! You quickly wash your hands and rush out to the foyer.  “Hi, guys!” You say with a smile. “What’s going on?” Please don’t have come by to do what I think you are about to do. You silently pray.  Andy turns you, his big body tense and thrumming with an energy that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. “They just stopped by to check on you after your confrontation with Jeffries this afternoon. Isn’t that nice?” “How are you honey? We’ve been worried sick about you all afternoon.” Carol asks. “I’m okay,” you respond. “Really.”  Your eyes once again flit to your husband’s…big mistake. His eyes are full of promise. The kind of promise that means you’re in big trouble. “Thank you, Walter,” Andy coughs out, extending his hand to the man, “for looking out for my wife today when I couldn’t be there. Thank you both. I can never repay you for that.” “And you don’t have to, we’re behind you two. Don’t you dare let that ignorant ass make you leave.” Walter grips your husband’s hand.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go speak with my wife now. But thank you for coming over and thank you for being supportive.” You’re quick to echo his sentiments.  Once he shuts the door you hustle back to the kitchen to keep chopping veggies for the salad. There was no way you were going to let him spank you for this. He didn’t understand. You did what you had to do today. It takes him a few moments to return, and when he does, keep your focus on slicing and dicing.“You know what I’m trying to figure out, Y/N?” He finally asks. Oh, you don’t like that tone. “I don’t know, Andrew.” You retort as you begin aggressively slicing more carrots. “The meaning behind Plato’s Allegory of the Cave?” He lets out an unamused snort.  “I’m trying to figure out why my girl can’t seem to follow directions.” You shrug.“I absolutely can follow directions when I happen to agree with them, thank you very much. And I didn’t know how much I disagreed with your directions until I saw his stupid ass face today.” You dropped the haphazardly cut carrots into the salad bowl. “Stop what you’re doing and look at me, Y/N. Right now.” It’s hard to ignore the authority in his tone. It was the same tone that made your panties wet, the same tone he used as you sobbed into his leg while he made sure his handprint was thoroughly tattooed on your ass.  “I’m busy.” You hiss. He goes to snatch the bowl from you, but you hold onto it. Later Andy would admit to himself that he was glad that you had done that, because he would have thrown it across the room. And he knew that he would have scared you in the worst way possible. “Let go. I’m trying to finish our dinner.” You whisper. “Oh baby.” He moves to lean over top of you, his big body caging you in from behind. “You and I are about to have a very serious discussion. Do you hear me?” “Sure, Andrew. Whatever you say. Because that’s how it goes right? It’s whatever you say.” You both can detect the venom in your tone. “Would you like gravy with your chicken and potatoes, dear?” “I do not give a flying fuck about chicken and potatoes right now. Why are you trying to piss Daddy off even more than he already is?” He hisses into your ear. “I’m not, you ass. What I want is for you to leave me alone already.” You elbow him out of the way, but only because he lets you. That’s when Andy’s temper snaps. “I told you not to fucking go over there, Y/N. And what do you do? You fucking duke it with him in the goddamned street! You promised me you wouldn’t do that, you fucking promised me! And then when I get home you want to act like everything’s okay as you stand here making dinner like I don’t have the right to be upset?” He scrubs his face with his hands. “You are absolutely un-fucking-believable, baby girl” Andy points his finger at you.  You stare back at him, arms folded against your chest as you try to manage your own breathing as well as your temper. “Andy, I saw him and then I saw red. We had words. He walked away. That’s the long and short of it.” You startle when Andy’s fist slams into the wall. “Except that is not the long and short of it, Y/N!” He’s yelling now, his face flushed and his breathing labored. “It is not!” You look away. “Walter heard and saw the entire exchange between you two. He was already on his way to step in when he saw Jeffries ball up his fist and promise to hit you later.” Your wide eyes flash to his own. “That’s right, sweetheart. According to Walter, he called striking you a ‘special pleasure’ and told you that you could ‘count on it’. Isn’t that right?” Aww fuck! “Tell Daddy the truth.” He takes a step towards you. “Is that what he said to you?”  “Maybe he did, Andrew. But so what?” Wrong thing to say to Daddy. He’s on you so fast he’s a goddamned blur. Pressing you back against the counter, his large hand goes to your hair, wrenching your head back. His eyes are filled with a myriad of emotions - frustration, anger, fear, and…hurt? “I know that you did not just say the words “so what” in reference to my baby. In reference to her overall safety and well-being. I know that didn’t happen, so Daddy is just going to accept that his hearing is going and move the fuck on, alright?” “Ye-yes.” You whimper softly as he tugs even harder on your scalp.  “Yes what?” He growls. “What’s my goddamned name you stubborn, impulsive, and recklessly brave little brat?” “Daddy.” You’d honestly never seen Andy this angry with you. “And Daddy, I can explain -” Your words are cut short when his lips meet yours in an angry kiss. His mouth dominates yours, exploring every inch, demanding you remember your place and surrender. It goes on so long that you begin struggling for breath. He lets you go for a moment, only to do it again. It’s a gnashing of teeth and tongue that leaves you arching your breasts towards his face and silently begging for more.  “What am I going to do with you?” He growls against your lips. “Always so fucking defiant.” One of his hands goes to your ass, squeezing hard. “Why won’t you let me take care of you? Why won’t you let me protect you?” “Daddy…” You breathe out, your hips jerking when he squeezes even harder. “Ow, Daddy.” “Explain it to me. Help me understand.” He grits out as his hips grind into yours.  “Daddy.” You breathe through the pain. “It wasn’t just me he talked about, he went after you too. He called you a fucking traitor. He told me I shook my ass and trapped you and -”  “Stop. It.” He interjects. You try to remove his hand from your ass, but of course it doesn’t work. “You know he’s all kinds of wrong, Y/N.”  “But do you honestly think I could let someone go after my man like that?” His other hand lets go of your hair to grip your jaw, applying just the right amount of pressure.  “Think about what you just said, Y/N. Fucking think about it. You want to protect me, and I want to protect you. So how about we protect each other together?” You stare up at him, still in the mood to fight. “I can handle my own battles. Been doing it for a long time. I’m good at it. Sometimes I walk away, sometimes I make it my job to light their world on fire if I can.” Andy is back to glaring at you.  “Of that I have no doubt. But why do it alone if you don’t have to?” Now that makes you pause. You were used to going it alone, at least for the most part. You think back to the times when some parents at school wouldn’t let their kids play with you. 

Or the times when someone said something lewd or nasty at a gas station because they thought you cut them off, or the times store employees followed you around as you shopped. Just in case. 

You think about the times store managers have asked to check your bag before leaving because you didn’t buy anything. Again, just in case. And he random people who have occasionally taken it upon themselves to touch your hair because they wanted to know what it fucking “felt like”. Only to get upset when you said “no”. 

And then there was that one time at twenty two-years-old when you fit a description and found yourself so terrified that you’d thrown up on yourself, even though you’d done nothing wrong. Shit, you could go on and on and on. “Y/N.” You hear your husband call your name. “Y/N, baby come back to me.” You blink at him. “You went away for a minute honey, where did you go?”  The emotion in your voice is enough to choke you. “I went back to all the times when I dealt with things like this…pretty much on my own. I used to act like I could shrug it off. I would try to be pleasant, but I always ended up walking away from the encounters feeling hurt and upset. Because I knew I didn’t deserve it. And I know stupid shit happens to everyone, but I always felt like it happened to me a little bit more, based on what I looked like.” You let the first tear fall. Andy is quick to wipe it away. “It doesn’t seem to happen anywhere near as much when I’m with you. It’s like, people see me as someone they can trust based on who I’m with. And I love who the fuck I’m with. I love you so much I married you, damn it!” His small laugh lets you know he thinks it’s funny that you ever thought you had a choice. “I’m sure half the time they’re just jealous that I’m with this fine specimen of a man and they want to know how the hell I caught you.” You breathe out in a rush. “Well that’s easy, baby girl.” Andy murmurs against your ear. “I caught you. And I’m not letting you go.” He nips at the lobe, sucking it into his mouth. “And Y/N, we’ve both seen people look at us funny when we’re together, and we either pay them no mind or we glare at them until they almost piss their pants. Don’t we?” “Yes, Daddy…we do.” The timer on the oven picks that moment to ding. Andy grabs a couple of dish cloths and is kind enough to remove it for you. “Look good?” He asks. “It does.” You reply.   “The meat thermometer says it’s done, but it’s got to sit before we can cut into it, right?” You nod. Good lord, he’d been paying attention the last time you’d tried to teach him to cook. You watch with a smile as he bastes the meat with its juices, just like you would have. Stepping back he looks at you and exhales. “Baby, I don’t want to spank you tonight, especially not after everything that went on today, but I have to. What if Walter hadn’t been there? What if Jeffries had actually tried to hit you? What if he’d had a weapon and had decided to use it?” You avert his gaze, choosing to stare out the window instead.  “What if..?” He can’t bring himself to finish. “No. Just no. I won’t even allow myself to go there, but it could have. We do not know this man and we do not know what he is capable of. I know you want to protect me and protect us, and I promised you we would do that…together. You promised me that you would agree to that.” He reminds you, his voice is soft, but firm. “And I tried to Andy until -” “Until you saw him, I know. But what is one of Daddy’s major rules, huh? No putting yourself in harm’s way. Tell me what you did today?” He crosses his arms as he leans back against the fridge. “I could’ve have gotten myself hurt by going off half-cocked.”  “Good girl.” He murmurs. “I know this one is going to be especially hard, so can you walk to the living room by yourself or do you need Daddy to help? It’s okay if you do.”  “Help.” You look down at the floor. Immediately you’re hoisted up off the ground. You wrap your arms around your husband’s neck in anticipation of the inevitable.  Andy carts you into the living room. He sets you down and makes quick work of taking off your yoga pants before lying you across his lap. “Daddy, no…” He tenderly rubs the globes of your ass. “This is tough, baby girl. And we will figure it out. But until you remember that we’re forever partners who are in this together, until you remember not to do something like you did today so you don’t scare Daddy…this is what is going to happen. Please remember that I love you.” You’re already blubbering and he hasn’t even started yet. “When we’re done here, I’m going to find you a pillow to sit on and we’re going to enjoy that delicious meal you cooked, okay?” “Okay Daddy.” You just cry harder, knowing what’s in store. The first crack of his palm against your bottom makes you yell out. The second has your nails digging into the fabric of his pants, and by the third…you’re promising over and over to never do this again. You wail when the fourth blow connects, it’s a deep, guttural sound. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “Everything about today…just let it out for me.”   And for the next sixteen blows that followed, that’s what you did. Every memory of this kind of bullshit that hurt, made you ache, made you angry…you sobbed it out in your Daddy’s lap.    

END

[plant-flwrs]

hello love! i was wondering if you could write a fred x gryffindor reader in which she is in the same year as ron and he’s constantly flirting with her, so she gives him the same energy but inside she’s afraid he’s like that with everyone and that she might be just another one but the truth is that he’s hopelessly in love with her? maybe george can give him a push? maybe a fluffy ending? thank you so muchhh 🥰

smiling kisses // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ok when i wrote this i had interpreted it as you wanting ron and the reader to be friends and now i’m rereading it and you didnt explicitly say that, so i hope you don’t mind that I made them friends lol! i love the flirty but clueless trope and fred is the perfect person for this. thanks for your request! i’m actually so proud of this and I hope you like it!!!!!

(4.2k)

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“I don’t see what the big deal is!” Ron said, rolling his eyes at Hermione.

“He’s your brother, certainly it must bother you,” she retorted, undeterred by his exasperated tone.

You bounded down the stairs, your hand grazing the wall as you turned to meet your friends. They looked at you, and Hermione’s face flushed red.

“Talking about me?” you teased, sliding onto the couch in between the two of them.

Ron smirked at Hermione, and her face grew redder.

“You were, weren’t you?” you said playfully, throwing your arms behind each of them, pulling them closer.

“Hermione was,” Ron mumbled, and Hermione reached across your lap and pinched Ron’s arm.

“Ouch!” he said, and before you could ask what they were saying about you, the topic of Hermione and Ron’s previous conversation sauntered through the portrait hole.

It only took Fred a second to find you, sandwiched between his brother and Hermione. He and George strolled over, leaning over the back of the couch and putting their faces close to yours. They were on either side of you, and Hermione squeezed out of your grasp and cringed away from them. Ron wrapped a long arm around George’s neck, pulling him over the couch and onto the floor in front of you.

“That was a mistake, Ickle Ronniekins,” George taunted, leaping from his spot on the ground. Ron’s smile faded and he scrambled to move off the couch, missing George’s grasp by an inch as he stumbled up the stairs.

“Ah, boys,” you exhaled, pretending to be awestruck. Hermione giggled from her spot in the corner of the couch, and Fred retracted his head from beside yours.

He walked to the front of the couch and took Ron’s spot, sitting close to you. Your thighs touched, and your school skirt had rose while sitting. Fred’s eyes drifted to the exposed skin, and he raked his gaze over you. You watched his eyes move, and when they met yours a smirk flirted on your lips and you rolled your eyes.

“Very charming, Fred,” you said, moving to pull your skirt down.

“Don’t cover up on my accord, darling,” he said, leaning back into the couch and spreading his arms across the length of the cushions.

“Really, Fred?” Hermione said from besides you, shifting uncomfortably and scowling.

“You look nice too, ‘Mione,” Fred gave her a charming smile and her scowl deepened.

“Don’t let him bother you, he’s all talk and no bite,” you said, turning towards Hermione and away from Fred.

He tugged at a piece of your hair, and you turned to face him again, an eyebrow quirked.

He had an evil smirk on his face, and his eyes were a little darker than usual.

“You think?” he asked, a flirtatious tone dripping from his tongue.

Hermione groaned loudly, fed up with the antics of teenaged boys. She stood and grabbed your hand, pulling you from the couch. Fred was disappointed to see you leave, but he enjoyed the view. You looked over your shoulder, and sent him a flirty wave, which only widened his smirk.

George had given up his chase after Ron’s dormitory door slammed shut in his face. He walked down the stairs in time to see Fred nearly drooling on the couch, watching you leave through the portrait hole with Hermione.

“You’re hopeless,” he said, sitting opposite of Fred on an armchair.

“Shut up,” Fred retorted, still staring dreamily at the portrait hole where you had been moments ago.

“When are you gonna tell her?”

“I tell her just about every day!” Fred said, turning to look at his brother.

“No, you flirt with her. There’s a difference,” George said, picking off a piece of lint from his sweater.

“How can she not know by now?” Fred sighed, sinking deeper into the couch and covering his face with his hands.

“You have to be upfront with her, tell her outright,” George proposed, beginning to twirl his wand between his fingers.

“Maybe,” Fred mumbled.

“It’s disgusting!” Hermione shouted for the twelfth time, her tone just as disapproving as the first.

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone,” you reassured her, “and I don’t even mind it.”

“How can you not mind it?” she said, looking at you like you were out of your mind.

“I don’t know,” you twirled your fingers behind your back, “I think it’s a bit charming. He’s not always that unseemly, usually, it’s much tamer.”

“How often does he do that?” she asked, her tone softening a bit.

“I don’t know, most times I see him, I guess,” you admitted, smiling at the thought of it.

Hermione stopped walking suddenly like she was frozen in her spot. You turned to her, and her mouth was agape.

“You like him!” she shouted accusingly, pointing a shaky finger at you.

“Hermione!” you moved towards her, pushing her finger down.

Your eyes were wide at her accusation, and you felt your face become very warm.

“You do! You absolutely do!” she said again, her voice still too loud.

“Shut up!” you hushed her, pulling her to keep walking.

“Please tell me you don’t,” she pleaded, her face twisted like a child begging their parent for candy.

“Stop!” you hushed her again, wanting to forget about Fred.

“Just tell me, and I’ll drop it, swear,” she said, pulling you down an empty corridor.

“Fine! I like him, just a little,” you admitted, resting your forehead on your hand and looking at the floor.

“Why?” she asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“I don’t know! Why do you like Ron?” you retorted, and her eyes grew wide.

“I-” she started, stuttering through her words, “that’s not even relevant right now.”

“See? Not as simple as you thought,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall.

She did the same, standing next to you, and you both slid down the wall until you were sitting. The stone was cool against your back, and hard beneath your head.

“I suppose it makes sense,” she said finally, turning her head towards you.

“What?” you asked, meeting her eyes.

“Well you’re both always flirting with each other,” she said, recalling all the times she nearly gagged as Fred said something flirtatious to you.

“He flirts with everyone,” you said, sounding defeated, “that’s why I didn’t tell you. He doesn’t like me back.”

“He doesn’t flirt with me,” Hermione started, furrowing her brow, “and he doesn’t look at anyone else the way he looks at you.”

Her tone of disgust changed to the tone she had when she was trying to figure something out, looking at it like it was a puzzle.

“Logically, you have to admit that he may have feelings for you. I mean, who would do all that flirting just to want a friendship?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione. She sounded like she might be right, but she hadn’t accounted for something; Love and Fred do not follow the rules of logic.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Fred drawled, sliding into the bench next to you.

“Morning,” you said plainly.

You were a bit haunted by Hermione’s words. You had never thought in depth about yours and Fred’s relationship. He flirted with you, so you flirted back, simple. Now, the threat of real feelings loomed behind each of your words, and the pressure was too much.

“Sleep well?” he asked, leaning his shoulder into you as he scooped some eggs onto his plate.

“Yeah. You?” you kept your head buried in your newspaper, reading the moving advertisements over and over.

Fred looked at you curiously. You were never this dry with him, you always had something on the tip of your tongue. He was worried he went too far yesterday, maybe he had been too obvious. Did you not reciprocate his feelings after all?

“I slept wonderfully. Dreaming about you, of course,” he continued, sounding awfully proper and dragging out the syllables.

You felt your cheeks burn beneath the newspaper, and suddenly Fred’s long fingers were pushing the paper down so he could see you. You struggled to keep it up, but the thin paper eventually crumbled and you dropped it. You looked up at him, his smile widening when he saw your blush.

“Aww,” he said, moving to pinch your cheek endearingly.

He had only been able to pinch one before you swatted his hand away.

“Stop it,” you said, no infliction or seriousness in your voice.

“Can’t help it,” he said, balancing his cheek in his palm and staring at you.

You fought the shy smile rising on your lips and rolled your eyes at him. He was leaning closer to you, smiling. Just as he was inches away, peering into your eyes, you pulled the newspaper up to separate you two. Ron laughed evilly next to you, having watched the entire exchange.

Fred reached behind you and hit Ron upside the head. He cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened his tie, moving his attention to George who was sat across from him.

Fred caught his twin’s eyes and widened them as if to ask “did you just see that?”. George gave him a sympathetic nod, feeling some second-hand embarrassment for his brother.

Hermione pulled you away from Harry and Ron the second you left breakfast, and you wondered why she hadn’t tried out for beater with the grip she had.

“Ouch! Hell of a grip, ‘Mione!” you mumbled to her when you were out of the boy’s earshot.

“I wanted to talk to you, mind if we go the long way?” she asked, not waiting for your answer as she pulled you down a hallway with long rays of sunshine casting onto the floor.

“What’s up?” you said, finally being released.

“What was all that with Fred? It looked like he was going to kiss you for Merlin’s sake!” she waved her hands while she talked, nearly hitting your shoulder.

You ducked and widened your eyes at her evaluation of breakfast. Was Fred trying to kiss you? At 7 in the morning? That was his grand plan if he did like you?

“No he wasn’t!” you said with disbelief. It had come out more like a gasp than a protest, and Hermione’s eyes widened at your cluelessness.

“He was! And you put up the newspaper! It was horribly awkward, really,” Hermione rambled, ignoring your loud and embarrassed groan and the sound of your palm hitting your face.

“I thought he was just being annoying,” you mumbled, replaying the events in your mind, “I mean who kisses someone right before breakfast?”

“This is going to be difficult,” she said, seeming to be lost in thought.

“What is?”

“Getting you two together, of course,” Hermione said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

George was tired of Fred’s elongated sighs and downcast lips.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he reassured his brother for the millionth time.

“It was awful,” Fred groaned, hiding his face into the wall they were leaning against.

“She probably didn’t even realize, mate,” George said, but he knew he didn’t mean it. He had very little hope for his brother.

“She doesn’t fancy me, it’s confirmed,” Fred said miserably, trying to suppress the very real sadness he was feeling.

Fred moped around for the next few days, and it was starting to affect George. Fred never wanted to go to the common room in case you were there, and they locked themselves away in their dorm most afternoons.

George had to cheer his brother up, Lee was no replacement when it came to pranks. The idea had struck him one of the many afternoons he spent looking out the window by his bed, longing for Quidditch season. He had been thinking about how amazing it would be to be out on the pitch, beating Slytherin 100-0, when he was inspired. He sat from his spot on the windowsill and told his brother all about the genius plan.

The next morning, they had gotten to the Great Hall early, as they discussed. They had cast all the charms and were waiting to watch the results. The other tables slowly began to fill up, and the genius of George’s plan was that he knew Snape was calling a house meeting this morning. This meant that when all the Slytherins would come down for breakfast, everyone would already be there to watch the prank.

Even though his eyes were locked onto the Slytherin table, Fred did not miss you walking in with Ron. You and Ron usually slept late, and often missed breakfast if it weren’t for Hermione. Fred watched your eyes divert his own, instead, focusing very hard on what Ron was saying. His happiness faltered for a moment, until George elbowed him, bringing his attention to the herd of Slytherins walking in.

The first people to sit on the benches were promptly launched into the air, and one of them happened to be Draco Malfoy, which really was the icing on the cake in Fred’s opinion. More and more people began bouncing on the bench like it was made of a bouncy rubber (it was) and laughs filled the hall. The bench made a comedic wobbling sound as it bent and curved to each student falling onto it. Arms flailed and eyes widened.

Dumbledore’s icy eyes looked entertained for a moment before he waved his wand and all of the students were frozen in the air. He guided them to the ground safely and instructed them not the get back on the bench. The group of students in green ties scowled, immediately looking towards the Gryffindor table. The twins smiled and waved innocently, standing to the sound of wild applause. They couldn’t help it, they were willing to take the credit if it meant detention.

And it did mean detention. Snape had walked over so fast, that Fred and George felt a gust of air as the black cloak halted in front of them.

They were charged with polishing the hundreds of cauldrons in Snape’s room and had to take extra care to Snape’s personal large cauldron in the front of the room.

They had been doing this for a few days, their spirits yet to be broken. They were given a brush the size of a fingernail, though, so they weren’t making much progress.

Sneaking out past curfew wasn’t something you and Harry did often, but tonight you found yourselves doing it quite easily. You realized, while studying with Hermione, that you had left your Potions textbook at the girl's bathroom in the dungeons. You made Harry go with you to retrieve it because you were too scared to go on your own. He offered you the invisibility cloak and you gladly accepted, moving close to him as he slid it over you and you made your way to the dungeons.

You held your breath almost the entire time, and Harry had to remind you to keep your eyes open. He nearly yelped when you stepped on his foot for the fifth time.

“Sorry!” you whispered, giving him an apologetic look.

You eventually made it to the dungeons, slowly creeping down the stairs. You entered the hall and saw that the door to Snape’s classroom was open, some light coming from it. Harry looked at you and you shrugged.

You slid from under the cloak and slipped into the bathroom. You easily found your textbook and hurried to the door. When you opened it, you figured it might be stuck, because the door wouldn’t open. Harry might be playing a joke, you thought, so you chuckled and pushed harder. The door swung open, and you fell to the floor. When you got up, dusting your knees, you realized who you had knocked to the ground. Snape was a mess of black clothing, his greasy hair scattered across his face.

“Professor! I’m so sorry!” you began, still speaking in a hushed tone.

“I hadn’t realized you were out here, I thought the door was stuck!” you continued, watching him slowly get to his feet, a look of rage slowly overcoming his features.

“What are you doing out past curfew?” he snarled, dusting off his robes.

You looked around, and couldn’t find Harry. He must have put the invisibility cloak on. You couldn’t blame him, he definitely would have gotten the worst of it from Snape. You glanced behind Snape, towards his classroom. Two redheads were peeking out from the crack in the door. It was Fred and George. You remembered they had gotten detention for their prank a few days ago. Your cheeks became a deep red, out of fear and embarrassment.

“I was trying to study sir, but then I realized I had left my textbook down here. I had to get it, I have to finish the essay you assigned,” you said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

You heard a snicker from Snape’s classroom, undoubtedly from Fred, and Snape whirled around to face them.

“You two! You’re dismissed, back here tomorrow, same time,” Snape snarled, and when neither of them moved he raised his voice, “go!”

They walked off slowly, looking over their shoulders at you. You ducked your head down, trying to hide your face.

“You will be joining them for detention this week,” Snape snarled, peering down at you with disgust, “cleaning my cauldrons.”

You sighed, nodding your head. It was already Wednesday, so you supposed you’d only have to do it for two days.

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled and rushed past him and up the stairs.

When you climbed the stairs, you put your hand over your heart, trying to slow it down. Coming to the final step, you were met with three too joyful faces.

“Rotten luck,” George said.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Harry said, only his head peeking out from the cloak.

“Professor! I’m so sorry!” Fred finished, imitating your voice and tumbling into George as you had tumbled into Snape.

You blushed, even more, feeling your entire face get red.

“Some help you are, Harry,” you said, shoving his invisible shoulder.

He stumbled back and gave you an apologetic smile. You and Harry walked a few paces in front of the twins, arguing over whose fault the whole thing was.

Fred watched you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He had so much he wanted to say to you, so much he wanted to finally confess, but it was stuck in his throat.

“Well, now you’re going to be stuck in a room with her,” George began, talking only so Fred could hear him, “maybe now you’ll tell her.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and maybe the sky will be red tomorrow.”

George huffed out a breath, tired of hearing his brother’s excuses. George was a big believer in saying how you felt, and he was sick of this little cat and mouse game you and Fred were playing.

The four of you slipped into the portrait hole, and you were upset to see it was just as crowded as when you left. Hermione and Ron were huddled over their Transfiguration homework, and she was talking animatedly to Ron about a vanishing spell she had read about.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Hermione said as you settled into the couch next to her.

“Just Professor Snape,” George teased from an armchair next to her.

“You got caught?” she said as if she was asking if they had also killed someone while they were out.

“Oh yeah, Snape caught her right as she fell on top of him!” Fred called from where he stood behind George.

Harry offered no help, sitting lamely on the floor by Ron’s feet. You hid your face behind Hermione, slumping into her.

“Are you alright?” she asked, trying to lift your head from her shoulder.

“It was so bad,” you said, cringing as you remembered it.

The twins laughed loudly, drawing the attention of anyone who was near them. Harry began to chuckle and Hermione hit his shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked, finally sitting you back upright

“Harry was supposed to keep watch!” you said, standing and pointing down at him accusingly.

“I was!”

“Then how did Snape end up right in front of the door?”

“He just walked there? What was I meant to do?”

“I don’t know! You could have given me a little knock so I didn’t bust the door down on him!”

You and Harry yelled at each other with no real aggression, and a smile flickered on your lips when you couldn’t suppress it anymore.

George jumped from his chair and pulled Fred to stand in front of everyone. George pretended to be pushing down a door, which made Fred become brooding and intimidating like Snape. He twisted his face into a scowl and hugged his arms around his waist as if he was holding shut a robe. George fell onto Fred, sending Fred to the ground. George stood, putting on an exaggerated innocent look and covering his pouting mouth with his hands.

“Professor!” he raised his voice to the highest octave it would go, “I am so sorry!”

“Detention!” Fred screamed, copying Snape’s signature drawl.

“Yes, sir,” George screeched, putting his hands in his face and pretending to cry.

“I did not cry!” you said, laughing.

“Oh, you didn’t? Could have sworn we heard some crying,” George said, wrapping a brotherly arm around your shoulder.

“You got detention?” Hermione asked, standing from her seat with a bewildered expression.

“Yeah, two days with these idiots,” you said, pointing a thumb at Fred and George.

You met Fred’s eyes, and his laughter soon faded to a look of admiration. You looked away from him, blushing.

“Oh, that’s awful!” Hermione said, falling back into the couch.

You moved from George’s arm and sat next to Hermione again, pulling your Potions textbook to your lap. You peaked at Hermione’s, trying to find the right page.

Harry and Ron were still laughing, and a smile ghosted your lips.

You managed to finish your Potions essay, and upon seeing Snape’s glare when you turned it in, you were not looking forward to detention.

You said goodbye to a disappointed Hermione, and giggling Ron and Harry, sulking down to the dungeons where you had to spend your evening.

“Here,” Snape handed you the smallest cleaning brush you had ever seen and shoved a filthy cauldron into your arms.

You sank into a stool and cradled the heavy thing in your hands, dipping the brush into a cleaning solution Snape gave you. He left the room with a sweep of his robes, and the thought of using magic to clean the cauldrons crossed your mind. You decided against it though, figuring Snape would just give you some other act of labor to do instead.

You waited for the twins to stumble in, they were already late. When they eventually showed up, according to your watch, 20 minutes late, there was only one of them. Fred’s tie hung undone around his neck, and his collar was unkempt.

“Hello, love,” he said, pulling up a stool across from you and moving a cauldron between his hands as if it weighed nothing.

“Hi, Fred,” you said, smiling politely at him, “where’s George?”

Fred sighed and put the brush to the cauldron.

“Prank backfired, he’s in the infirmary for warts,” Fred explained, gesturing to his face, where George presumably had the warts.

“Yuck,” your fast twisted with disgust, but a smile was still there.

Fred chuckled at your reaction and nodded.

“So it’s just us tonight,” Fred said, and insinuation on the tip of his tongue.

“Guess so,” you said, unbothered.

“Haven’t spoken in a while,” he said, looking up at you while you kept your eyes locked on the cauldron in your lap.

“Been busy?” you asked him, hoping he wasn’t going to mention the newspaper incident.

“Oh, this and that,” he said, abandoning the cauldron and resting his elbows on the table, “you?”

“This and that,” you replied, looking up to meet his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, a smirk contrasting to the genuine tone of his words.

“That’s sweet, Freddie,” you replied, shocking yourself with the levelness of your voice.

“Freddie?” he repeated, undeterred.

“Freddie.”

“Only girlfriends have called me Freddie,” he said, smirking still.

You felt your face warm, “Oh the long list of girlfriends you’ve had? Who was there?” you paused, pretending to be in deep thought, “Angelina for a week or two?”

Fred chuckled, gazing at you.

“Future girlfriends too,” he said simply.

It took you a second to realize what he had meant, and when you did you were sure you were bright red. Your hand brushing the cauldron stopped. You tried to think of something to say, focusing on keeping a steady voice, but all you could think of was: “Shut up.”

Fred laughed, his shoulders shaking. He shook his head with something like amazement at you, grinning like a fool.

“Do you want to call me Freddie?” he said suddenly after it had been quiet for a while, his tone a little serious.

“What?” you squinted your eyes in confusion.

“Do you want to call me Freddie? Like a girlfriend would,” he said, and his face was stern. His eyes were locked onto yours.

“Do I want to be your girlfriend?” you repeated to him, your mouth open in shock.

“Do you?” he said, leaning over the table, closer to you.

“Fred,” you said, feeling dumbstruck. You didn’t know what to say, but a smile crept onto your face.

“Yeah,” you said finally, and his eyes widened.

“Really?” he said, smiling like a mad man.

“Really,” you repeated, nodding.

“Cool,” he said, still smiling widely and not knowing what to do with himself.

“Cool?” you laughed, putting the cauldron down.

Fred stood from his stool and pounded his fist into the air, celebrating.

You laughed, covering your face in your hands.

You felt him move to stand next to you, and you lifted your head, looking up at him. He gazed down at you, still smiling.

“Freddie,” you teased, dragging out the word.

His smile turned into a crooked grin. He pulled your face up to his, cupping your cheeks.

His dazed smile didn’t falter as he pressed his lips to yours, and you found it feeling quite awkward. His lips were pulled tight into a closed smile, and his eyes were wide open with glee as he kissed you. You pulled away, laughing and ducking your face into his chest. You felt his chest move with laughter, his arms snaking around you. His fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater until his long, nimble fingers ducked under it. He traced little swirls on the skin of your lower back, and you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“Call me Freddie again?” he said, and you could hear the smile on his face.

“I don’t know,” you trailed, pulling your face away from him and looking at him through your eyelashes, “you might enjoy it too much.”

He groaned teasingly, his head lulling back as he looked at the ceiling. When he met your gaze again, his smile softened into a plain face. He pulled you from your seat, stepping back an inch to give you just enough room to stand. You were still pressed against him, his arms wrapped around you.

His resting lips were much nicer to kiss, your faces met in just the right way. You thought the two of you may have melted together somehow, moving in perfect synch. One of his hands trailed up your back, tickling you ever so slightly and rested on the back of your neck. He pulled you closer there, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue in. It grazed your bottom lip, and you felt his eyebrows furrow against your face. He breathed in deeply, his hand on your neck moving to burrow itself in your hair. He grabbed a fistful of it and pulled you back gently. You struggled to open your eyes for a moment, and when you did you saw Fred grinning at you.

You leaned in close again, this time going to his ear. “Freddie,” you whispered.

He leaned back, as if in a fit of laughter, and pulled you into a tight hug. He groaned playfully again, and you laughed at the reaction you could cause.

You slid out of his grasp and back onto the stool. He pulled up the stool next to you and sat very close. Your knees touched, and he watched you dreamily as you began to scrub the cauldron again.

“Finally!” George said as he strolled into the classroom, wart free.

“All patched up?” you asked him, and Fred acted as if George wasn’t even there, still staring at you.

“Oh, yeah, easy fix,” George said, taking Fred’s previous seat across from you. He continued Fred’s cauldron, picking up the discarded brush.

“So you two finally got together?” George asked after some time had passed, glancing up at you while you cleaned.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, elbowing Fred as he leaned very close to your face, like he was memorizing every detail.

“Well, I think Fred is drooling,” George said, kicking his brother’s leg under the table.

[fangirlsmood]

Tomioka Giyuu x reader - inferiority complex

Summary : Noticing how Giyuu doesn't know his own worth, you try to remedy his inferiority complex.

Warnings : Spoilers about Giyuu’s past.

author notes : Seeing our little Giyuu blame and put himself down breaks my heart, it's time for someone to comfort him and tell him what an amazing person he is.

_ Tomioka-san ! 

Hearing your voice, Giyuu stopped in his walk and turned to you, nodding his head to greet you. You noticed that he was holding a bunch of papers, probably a mission report he had to return to Oyakata-sama.

_ You’re already back ! After filing your report, would you accept ...

_ No.

_ But...

You've been begging him for a while to train you. He had saved you a few months ago from a demon and since then you had only one wish: to become like him. You were infinitely grateful to him and you were so admiring. Not really knowing how to fight but wanting to be useful you had started to help at the Butturfly estate. However you wanted to do more, you wanted to save people before they could get hurt like Giyuu had done for you.

_ Ask another person.

_ Kocho-san is already taking care of Kanao, Rengoku of his little brother ... Everyone else is too busy to spend time with me. I want you to train me... please.

He looked you straight in the eye for a moment then sighed, unable to resist your perseverence :

_ Fine. I will train you but don't expect me to be a good teacher.

Since that day Giyuu trained you every time he return from a mission. You couldn't be happier. The training was difficult, tiring and sometimes painful but for you it was an honor. Even if he didn’t said it Giyuu was proud to see your progress. Besides, it was nice for him to have company. 

•••••••••••

One day, at the end of a hashira meeting, Rengoku came to approach him.

_ Tomioka ! We don't see much anymore (Y/n) at the Butterfly estate. I heard that you train her.

 He nodded, Rengoku let out one of his loud laughs :

_ It's surprising ! I had offered to train her but she had refused. Is she doing well?

_ She’s not bad.

It was surprising indeed. You told him that no one was available to train you and he learned it was a lie. Why had you been lying to him? He didn't understand what you could gain from it.

••••••••••

That night he found you serving dinner for both of you like you did almost every day since you had become his student. 

_ Welcome home ! How was the meeting ?

_ Good.

His gaze immediately made you uncomfortable. Usually he always gave you a warm look, while now he was looking at you coldly, as if he had difficulty recognizing you. He took a seat in front of you and began to eat. After a heavy silence which weighed on him as well as on you, he decided to speak :

_ Why did you lie to me ?

You did not remember having committed such an act against him. Seeing your confused stare he developed his point :

_ Rengoku told me he offered to train you. Why did you tell me that no one has time for you ?

You didn't think he would find out someday. Nothing in his attitude or his voice let show anger but you knew he was necessarily upset. Giyuu was a man of his word and honor, for him a lie was a lack of respect. You were terribly ashamed, however, you manage to stammer an explanation :

_ Oh ! It’s not what you think ! In fact it is but... I mean I didn’t really thought about it... Believe me it was far from my intentions to disrespect you, I would have never offended you on purpose ! I just... I just wanted to be trained by you.

_ Rengoku is a really good and strong man. You should have accepted his proposal. 

He marked a pause.

_ Go back to him, if you ask him I think his offer still stands.

Was Giyuu denying you? Did he no longer want you as a student? He got up and turned his back to you as if to end this discussion but you got up in turn, you wanted to stay by his side: 

_ I don’t want anyone else to train me ! 

_ It would be better for you.  He will be able to take care of you and make you evolve. 

Suddenly you realized what was going on. Giyuu thought Rengoku was a better hashira than him. Didn't he know how strong he was too? You stood in front of him so you could look him in the eye, so he would know you weren't lying :

_ You’re strong too. And you’re a good professor. 

_ You don’t know what you’re talking about. I am stronger than you that’s all. 

_ You’re a hashira ! You’re one of the strongest !

He lowered his head you saw in his eyes, him who was usually so impassive, a hint of sadness.

_ I don't deserve this title. I shouldn't be there.

_ What do you mean ? 

You noticed that his hands tightened on his haori.The words struggled out of his throat, as if part of him wanted to hold them back while another wanted to get them out :

_  Those who owned the two parts of this haorie should be there, they should be alive. Them, not me.

It was the first time Giyuu had talked about his past. You kept silent, you didn't want to rush him. You just wanted to understand him, reassure him, make him feel surrounded. 

_ (Y/n)... I know you admire me and it's nice to have someone so dedicated by my side but you don't know everything. You idealize me. I am not a strong. I am not a good person.

One of his hand clenched the red part of his haorie :

_ I wasn’t strong enough to protect my sister...

His other hand clenched on the other part :

_ I shouldn't have passed the Demon Slayer exam ... Sabito should have, he was much stronger, much better in everything, but he protected me and it cost him his life.

You were speechless. Knowing that Giyuu, who was so generous, strong and usually impassive, had suffered so much broke your heart. You wanted to cry for him but you knew it would only cause drama. You will cry another day, now you needed to cheer up your beloved master.

_ Rengoku will know how to protect you, you will be safe with him. 

••••••••••

The next morning Giyuu couldn't find you anywhere. He assumed you had chosen to join Rengoku. He was sure it was the best option and it suited him for the moment. He felt ridiculous for confiding in you last night, and was too embarrassed to see you again. Nevertheless he had become so used to your presence that he already missed you. Part of him regretted telling you to leave. 

Fortunately you came back little less than a month after your departure and with a surprise. You ran to him yelling a "tomioka-san" as a greeting before handing him a package. A little taken aback he examined it for a moment. Impatient you pressed him a little : 

_   It's a gift for you! Open it !

He followed your instructions and found a nice little bundle of papers taht were of different sizes and different colors. The writings and the ink used were also diverse. You started to explain nervously :

_ I wanted you to know how amazing you are, so I asked the hashira, your old master and a few of the people you saved to write down what they liked about you or what you had did good for them ... Oyakata-sama and Gyomei-san could’nt write but they dictated to me and I transcribed everything ... I didn't think it would take so long to contact everyone, sorry ... 

He had already started to read. Everyone had written something even Obanai, Sanemi and Shinobu had found a few nice things to say. Shinobu had recounted a mission accomplished with Giyuu and admitted that without him it would have been a failure while Obanai and Sanemi were content to write a single sentence where they said that Giyuu was not "that bad" and that "some of these techniques were quite impressive". Urokodaki gently reprimand him so that he would stop always blaming himself and telling him that he was proud of him. 

And finally there was your letter. It was the longest and as he read it he wanted to cry with joy. He wondered what he had done to deserve so much praise, he wanted to deny all these compliments but you had written a real reasoning full of examples to support your words that he was obliged to recognize his qualities. 

He felt his heart melt. it must have taken so much effort from you to collect all these little words, it was a real treasure that you had just offered him. You watched him silently in his reading which lasted a long time and since he didn't say anything you wondered if it was really a good idea :

_ Erm... Do you like it ? It's okay if you don't, but keep them anyway. That way you could always reread them when you needed to ... you know ... know how amazing you are.

A smile covered his face and you noticed that his eyes were bright like a child who discovers the world. His smile was so faint you might not have noticed though it was the sweetest you've ever seen. 

_ Thank you. It's the nicest thing anyone's done for me. It must have taken a lot of effort from you to convince Obanai, Sanemi and Kocho and put it all together.

_ You deserve all the effort in the world.

You gave him a huge smile and he believed you. He felt all the weight he had on his heart, all his guilt shut up in the face of all these kind words. For the first time Giyuu told himself not only that he was lucky to have you by his side but also that he deserved to be happy. Every time he read one of the letters he said to himself, although it was still hard for him not to doubt it, that he was worthy. More than feeling worthy, he felt loved.

••••••••••

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[chuuyrr]

it is currently two in the morning for me at the moment, but i feel like rambling about my current wips (and requests that i want to work on) + life updates so here it is (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

current wips in my drafts !

scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader sees dazai and chuuya fighting for the first time

synopsis: although baby reader sees them for the first time, and it's not the usual kind of bickering between them, and they are fighting because baby reader got injured

thoughts: dazai and chuuya cares for baby reader a lot, especially chuuya even if dazai's always with baby reader. he's a big softie for her so the instant he sees baby reader get hurt, he gets mad real bad at dazai for being irresponsible even though dazai didn't mean for baby reader to get hurt :( low-key angst, but fluff/comfort is prominent for this one. please, i'm so down for soukoku being soft!! it's actually finished already, but it is still a wip because i still intend to rewrite it because rereading it made me realize how i badly wrote it while i was busy, so yeah </3

dazai and chuuya stays with scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader because she gets nightmares

synopsis: gojo has sent baby reader to bsd's world for a reason and has dazai and chuuya watch over and take care of her for the time being, they find baby reader getting a nightmare and wanting them stay by her side until she falls asleep

thoughts: im so down for soukoku being soft. i know already said that, but my say still stands. anyway, so i put in a lot of chuuya and dazai being actual responsible older brothers to baby reader for this draft but unlike the first one, this one is actually still in the making. fluff/comfort is the main theme <3

requests i wanna work on soon !

scarlet witch! fushiguro! reader gets caught by gojo dating haitani ran + rindou (separately)

if it's another tokyorev character i love with all of my heart apart from mikey, it's going to be ran, with kakucho and rindou coming in third. i haven't thought of an exact scenario yet, but it will definitely include gojo being teen! reader's dramatic and protective dad again <3

scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader accidentally goes to the BEAST! AU of bsd

ok, so like, as soon as i saw this request in my inbox, i had immediately thought of a scenario and although i've already written so many bsd related stuff and want to work on something different, i might just write this one because i actually ended up crying over at how i'm going to write it in the future.

here's tidbits of my idea since i don't wanna spoil ya'll, but BEAST! dazai is slightly a yandere-ish for baby reader and i mean it in a PLATONIC way. slight yandere-ish—okay. just to be clear with that. i am NOT writing a full-blown yandere shit because that actually makes me uncomfortable.

okay. so, now here me out. in the BEAST universe, dazai and odasaku never became friends. in fact, he doesn't have any friends to be exact there unlike when he was in ADA in the canon universe.

BEAST! dazai knew that in all the other worlds that existed where they became friends, odasaku always died and he lived and somehow, in the BEAST universe, at least in this writing lol, there was never a variant of you that existed either unlike in the other worlds where dazai saw and cared for you as his little sibling or little niece—a family.

so let's put you coming into the picture all of a sudden. BEAST! dazai would be so ecstatic and maybe a bit emotional to see you, the kid who's gradually pulling him away from the darkness even after odasaku died in those other worlds. you were here in his world now, and honestly, he wants you to stay with him, or at least, just for a bit longer.

BEAST! dazai wants to be able to experience having a little sibling or a little niece that he'd be fond of caring for and spoiling for once ;(

you are so confused as to why he knows about you while everyone else in the BEAST au you had traveled into doesn't know you, and it's going to break your heart as to why this dazai was willing to sacrifice everyone’s life and happiness here, and as to why he's grimmer and scarily protective of you and maybe a bit more clingy to you compared to ADA! dazai.

he just wants you to stay so bad here with him, especially after odasaku had shunned him out despite his reasons..

he has no one.

you won't shun him out like odasaku did, right? because of all people, you would understand. you should understand.

just like BEAST! dazai, you know about the multiverse, in a much bigger and broader sense compared to him who only has knowledge of the other worlds that are just like his..

also i just realized i said tidbits but ended up writing paragraphs of drabbles about it lol

dazai and chuuya meeting gojo! reader's iconic students, yuuji, nobara, and yuuji (seperately)

still haven't a thought of an exact scenario for this and haven't decided if this will take place in a setting where gojo! reader got sealed or not, but i can just imagine how dazai and chuuya being so shocked at the fact that gojo! reader is a mentor/teacher who turns out to have a soft spot for kids, especially when they find out how gojo! reader helped yuuji and megumi respectively, despite them viewing gojo as annoying and such (basically just like how gojo satoru is in the actual jjk)

also, i think yuuji, nobara, and megumi are gonna be in a surprise too when they find out their gojo! reader-sensei actually has a boyfriend and would definitely see her resemblance to dazai because they act alike. as for chuuya? yeah, he'd agree with them LMAO, but chuuya still loves you of course.

life update !

a lot of things have been going on lately since i'm turning 18 real soon. i'm both excited and nervous, and still in disbelief because i still don't see myself as a soon-to-be-adult yet. like, it's still not getting wrapped up in my head ykyk.

also, i'm nervous as fuck for college. final exams are also coming up, which is why im still nervous as fuck. i've got a lot of stuff to review.

currently though, i am happy that our research proposal defense is over, so at least that's a weight lifted off from my shoulders hehe.

though im kinda restless these days because school is being a pain with tons of activities to do and such, as well as the pressure, your ate chu is still hanging on tight, so no worries !

[mysticfemme]

Hi MysticFemme. I'm, uh, sending this as an ask because it felt impolite to send this as a direct message. I don't want to presume boundaries or what you're like in real life because I have no idea. But you seem to be struggling and in a sad place (from what I can tell from previous posts of yours. And I don't know if you wanted somebody to ask if you're okay or not? Obviously, posting a rambling post that you're going to delete later isn't an invitation for someone to give their unsolicited and unasked for advice or opinion about your life in your inbox. I'm sorry if this ask comes off as presumptuous or intrusive, and I'm not trying to be, and feel free to tell me to fuck off.) and this is my way of like metaphorically sitting down with you at a table and asking, are you okay? If any of that makes sense? I'm sending you positive vibes. I just wanted to say that you seem, from an outsiders point of view, like a kind human being with a bright and vibrant soul, and whoever doesn't see that and whoever comes along and stumbles into you on your journey in this life can't see themselves one day loving you as person, for all that you are, for the good, bad, and ugly and beautiful, has found themselves lacking in both eyesight and a genuine connection with someone who seems great. As somebody who entered their twenties just a few months ago, I can understand the feeling of doom towards having any sort of relationship. You aren't alone in feeling like that. Like there's this whole big sense of dread surrounding it and what good is that for besides adding to the anxiety? I think the only that can be said is that you'll figure it out. /You'll/ figure it out. The people that are meant to be in your life will find you. Whether platonic or romantic. And that you aren't doomed, even though it's completely valid that you might feel that way, because your emotions are valid. You are enough. There's nothing wrong with you (I mean, I don't know that, but I'm remaining optimistic, and also I know reading that from someone whose a stranger might seem weird, so I'm just relying on old good instinct and human decency, but my point still remains: there's nothing wrong with you that someone isn't 100% capable of loving.) And one day, someone's (or plural) going to come along, and they are going to love you, and accept you, and you are going to belong somewhere. And from one human being to another, I hope that you are treated well, and given the love and support your deserve. And that you find peace. And that you know that you aren't despicable. That actually, you are good. And worthy. I'm sorry if this was weird, or came off as creepy, or anything in that vein. I promise that wasn't my intention. Everything that I've said is a guess about you, and I don't entertain the notion that I know you, because I don't, but I just wanted to say something, because I've been where you are and it felt incredibly lonely, and all I had wished for at the time was that someone would've said 'The good things are going to find you.' I don't know if you needed to hear any of this, but I hope it helps, and if it doesn't and I've made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry.

Sorry for the late response! I saw this this morning, and i kept rereading it because i appreciated it so much

I can't respond to every part of this individually but i want to say i really really appreciate your words, and they genuinely mean so much to me (and you have most definitely not overstepped!!!)

I'm not doing my best at the moment, and I'm struggling a little with general loneliness and worries about not having enough friends, not having a partner etc. And as well I'm really struggling with just worrying I'm not a good person or I'm not kind enough, not patient enough etc etc so i really do appreciate your words.

I think the hardest thing is that,,, you don't know when love will come into your life. My best friend was saying this to me earlier, you don't know when someone who might be really important to you will come into your life and at the age of 19, I've barely met any of the people who will love me in my life.

This ask does not come off as creepy and is most definitely not unwanted. I appreciate your words so much, and they mean more to me than you can know. Thank you so much, you've made me feel a bit lighter today :) <33

[bondsmagii]

omg you read we need to talk about kevin? what did you think? i went through a whole range of emotions, most of them bitter & negative, bc i saw too much of my mum & brother in eva & kevin, something i’m still working through. i started off hating eva bc i projected my resentment towards my mum onto her, but i found myself sympathising with her a bit more towards the end. it’s helped me sympathise a bit with my mum too. this book has probably had the most lasting effect on me than any other!

man, I love that book. I first read it years ago and liked it then, but I recently reread it and I loved it even more. it's such a brilliant book -- profoundly uncomfortable and incredibly bleak, but I think it asks so many important questions that, face it, most people are too scared to even acknowledge. it simultaneously asks the huge taboo of a question -- what if you regret having your child? what if a child is just born bad? -- and also combines it with that other big question: why do kids shoot up their schools? the nature vs nurture debate has been absolutely raging for years regarding children who commit violence at school; as someone with an academic interest in this particular crime, it's one I've banged my head up against multiple times. people seem to always be firmly in one camp: the parents are to blame, or the kid is just evil. nobody seems to consider the interaction between these two things, and how it's always ultimately a choice.

the book is a pretty intense read for me, as I'm sure you can relate. the difference is that while you can see your mother and brother in Eva and Kevin, I actually see myself and my mother in Eva and Kevin. I was an unwanted and a resented child. my parents did not want to have me. I was what my parents referred to as "a surprise", said in the same tone as you would describe a sudden house fire as a surprise, or bad news at work as a surprise. the major difference between my parents and Eva and Franklin was that they had me very young (they would have been 19 and barely 20 when they found out, and 20 and barely 21 when I was born) and this most certainly added to the resentment. my father was always away for work, often getting to go to some pretty interesting destinations; my mother wanted to be the kind of woman who wanted to be a stay-at-home mother, but she hated it. like Eva and Kevin, my mother and I were very, very alike in personality and what we did and did not want out of life, and we were engaged in some level of warfare for my entire childhood. while I wasn't quite on the level of Kevin in terms of blinding my siblings and whatnot, I was quite the terror as a child. by the time I reached my teenage years I was uncontrollable and my parents had given up trying. I could not be punished. I did not care. any punishment they did hand out, I was maliciously compliant to the point of infuriation. I'm sure my parents could argue that I was born evil, and indeed that's what they told the extended family. I admit I was not an easy child. however -- I was a child.

I did not ask to be born, and when my parents made the choice to have me and then resent my existence, that was on them. a child knows. a child can tell when he's not wanted, when he's an inconvenience. I knew it very well, from an early age. my parents' resentment of me resulted in them abusing me right up until I left home. I was like an unwanted pet, except they couldn't dump me off at a shelter. no, they never laid a finger on me physically, so they can claim they didn't abuse me -- but emotionally and psychologically they were abusive, and especially in my teenage years, they neglected me severely. (think along the lines of being left at home alone for extended periods with no food, no money, and no way to get supplies as we lived in rural Ireland and the closest supermarket was 30 minutes away. this was not something they did out of malice, but rather something they did because they did not consider me at all. they forgot my existence, most of the time, or they deemed me so inconsequential that making provisions for me was a task that could be forever put off.) understandably this made me hate them in return, and I took great pleasure in being a little shit. it was all I had. nature vs nurture, which is it? my parents weren't exactly nurturing, and they taught me very bad behaviour -- but at the same time from the moment I was born I had my mother's personality, predisposing me to being a little shit. even now, grown up and after many years of working on myself, I still find myself fighting the urge to be as cruel and as judgemental as she could be; likewise I see those positive qualities she had, that she could have shown more of if she had put the work in like I had. we went from being furious carbon copies of one another to an example of the best and the worst case scenario.

basically what it comes down to is choice. Kevin and I had a similar situation going on, but Kevin chose to try and find what he was looking for in mass murder, and I chose to try and find it by getting out of my house and never returning. I mentioned earlier that I have an academic interest in the kind of crime that Kevin committed; since the age of 17 I have been researching these things, and now have expertise in several specific incidents. I bring this up to illustrate that this crime was on my radar when I was around Kevin's age, when I was suffering from the same problems as he was. thousands of kids find themselves in this position, yet so relatively few commit the act. why? it's choice. nature, nurture -- it doesn't matter. there comes a point where you have to make the choice, and honestly? it's chaos theory, baby.

as well as researching this kind of thing I'm also an amateur meteorologist. I love weather. I love trying to work out what makes it tick. and weather is a good example of what I'm trying to say here. weather cannot be predicted. we can get decent ideas, but at the same time we never really know for sure and also weather acts differently every time. there are too many variables. it's the entirety of the earth's atmosphere we're talking about here. identical weather conditions can arise time and time again, and each time the weather is different. a sunny afternoon one day is a washout the next. this is because -- and I broadly sum it up here -- there are so many tiny variables that we cannot possibly predict how they will change the weather. and I mean it's tiny variables. I'm sure you've heard of the butterfly effect -- this comes from the idea that a butterfly somewhere on the coast of Africa can flap its wings, and this tiny reverberation can spread through the atmosphere, creating a bigger and bigger ripple, until a hurricane smashes into the Gulf of Mexico. tiny atmospheric changes all interacting in ways we cannot imagine. this is why some kids shoot up schools. it's easy to look at psychology broadly, but no two people are ever the same. siblings growing up in the exact same house are not the same. identical twins, genetically identical to their very DNA, are not the same. tiny, tiny events, microdoses of chemicals in the brain, exposures -- they all change us in subtle ways. two people -- Kevin and I -- can grow up with almost identical familial issues and outlooks, but Kevin shoots up his school and I study my ass off and get myself to university to escape my parents. why? I don't know. I don't know what tiny little things might influence me one way and another kid in the other. personality, brain chemistry, waking up that morning and having enough or not -- I don't know. it's chaos theory. the variables are too small to say. nature vs nurture are only two variables out of millions. it's an oversimplification.

so to go back to the book -- who do I blame? neither of them. it was a perfect storm. we could say Eva didn't help, but I know of plenty of kids with decent parents who still committed such a crime. we could say that Kevin was just born bad, but there are plenty of people with his resentful outlook on life who don't commit mass murder, or any harm against anyone whatsoever. it's like how every tornado comes from a supercell, but not every supercell will spawn a tornado -- that final genesis point is unknown to us. we just can't predict it. there are no easy answers. there is no simple formula. we just don't know, and that's what makes Kevin's story -- and its real-life counterparts -- so terrifying.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 2)

read Chapter 1 here

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k (exactly the same as last chapter, i’m proud of myself lol)

warnings: just fluff and ~pining~ for now

thanks again to @evnscvll for making this moodboard-- and this series is for her 3k celebration challenge so def check out her writing!

You should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to force yourself to write, but after a quick shower to wash off the day’s journey, you decided there was nothing better to do but sit at the desk and hope for inspiration.

Your husband had never been very supportive of your writing, which is why you had struggled to complete your latest novel.  He, like your publisher and many of your readers, wanted a sequel to your last book, in spite of the fact that you were adamant it was impossible.  It was a complete story, even if the ending was ambiguous.  There was no room for growth in the characters or the world of the story; just because readers wanted more didn’t mean that they would actually enjoy a forced product.

The publisher and your husband, however, shared a very strong opinion: the fans won’t care if it’s forced, and neither should you as long as it sells.  But, they weren’t writers.  You were.  And you knew there were different stories you needed to tell… if only you could find the words for them.

You were a few pages in when you heard the stairs creaking outside your closed door.  There was a quick knock at the door; you answered with an offer to come in.  

“I was just wondering if you wanted some coffee,” Mrs. Alberti explained as she crossed the room, standing beside you at the desk.  You nodded with a quick thank you as she set the cup and saucer down onto the wood.  “Oh heavens, he’s working on the house again,” she suddenly groaned, motioning out the window.  

You leaned over and nearly spit out your coffee when you saw Sebastian outside.  He was only wearing some much-too-tight jeans, driving a hammer down onto wood as the sun cast orange light over his body.  He was glistening with sweat, which was probably pretty uncomfortable for him but he looked damn good anyways.  

“Is he always… like that?” you shuddered.  

“Maybe I didn’t just hire him because he was cheap,” she shrugged, handing you a cloth.  “Go soak this in cold water and bring it to him, he looks overheated.”

You should’ve questioned why she was giving you chores, but you just took the rag and did as she asked.  He didn’t notice you walking out to him at first, but stopped when he did see you, waving quickly and setting down his hammer.

“For the heat,” you explained as you handed it to him.

“Ah, mulțumesc,” he nodded, accepting the rag with a smile.  

As he wiped the sweat from his face, you found your gaze trailing over his arms, down his chest and abdomen.  Jesus, how could this guy eat Mrs. Alberti’s cooking every day and still have washboard abs?  When you looked back up to his face, he was looking right at you with a grin-- oh shit, had he caught you ogling?  But then again, maybe he wanted you to ogle.  Why else would he be doing housework so… shirtlessly?

“Wh-what are you working on?” you asked him to break the silence.  He gave you a puzzled look.  “Er, the wood,” you motioned to the work he was doing, “why?”

His face softened with understanding.  “Construiesc un cadru nou pentru fereastră,” he explained, motioning vaguely to the house, “în partea de est a casei.”

“Right…” you nodded, realizing that you had no idea what he’d said.  Clearly you hadn’t thought this through.

“Aici, permiteți-mi să vă arăt,” he said, grabbing a board and walking past you, motioning for you to follow him as he slung the rag over his shoulder.  You figured you looked like a lost puppy trailing behind him like this.

He stopped when you reached the wall of the house, and grabbed part of the window frame; it creaked and moved as he wiggled it, clearly on the verge of falling off.  Then, he held up the new board he had been hammering and you realized that it was going to replace the rotting portions of the frame.

“A intelege?” he smiled.

“Da!” you answered, and he laughed.

“Cred că asta contează ca român,” he shrugged.

“It’s good you’re fixing the window.  I’m sure Mrs. Alberti appreciates everything you do.”

“Bătrâna îmi plătește rahat, dar sfârșesc trăind aici gratis.”

“Well, I should let you get back to it,” you decided as you stepped back with an uncomfortable smile.

“Nu te voi mai ține, sunt sigur că ești ocupat,” he said, and though you had no real way to interpret it, his tone didn’t seem to indicate that he was trying to stop you from going.

With a little wave and a heavy sense of god why am I such a dork?, you left him and returned indoors.

First nights in new places were always sort of surreal, but this was definitely less weird than the sleeper car of the train.  You’d felt like a proper stowaway then, but you had a stronger feeling of belonging here… even if you didn’t quite feel like you had any place to call home at the moment.

As you laid in bed and looked at the room turned on its side, you found yourself missing your room.  Your real room.  It had been designed and decorated somewhat meticulously, but most of all you missed the things about it that you hadn’t put that kind of thought into: the random earrings on your bedside table, discarded casually before you went to sleep; the layers of blazers and skirts draped over the chair in the corner; the still-slightly-visible coffee stain on the corner of the rug, even though you’d spent hours trying to get it out.

Meanwhile, this room was so obviously not a space that people lived in, but just a space people passed through.  Though nowhere near as sterile as a traditional hotel room, it had the same emptiness even with its personality-- specifically, a reflection of someone else’s personality rather than your own.

All that said, sleeping was pretty easy once you got yourself comfortable in the fluffy mattress, even if you were aware all through the night that you were not at home.  So aware, even, that you weren’t surprised at all when you woke up in the new space for the first time.  What you were surprised by was the sounds of heavy rain against your window, immediately dashing your plans for a morning jog.  As much as it seemed apropos to type by the window instead and soak in the moody weather, you decided to head downstairs for a cup of coffee first.  Already having forgotten where you had left off, you grabbed the pages you'd already written to reread with your breakfast as you slipped on some comfortable clothes and made your way down the creaky steps

Passing through the living area, it was impossible not to notice Sebastian sitting in one of the chairs, staring intently at a half-played chessboard.  Stopping for a moment to try to determine what he was doing, he moved a piece and you realized he must be playing with himself.

Against himself, you interrupted your own thought, he's playing against himself… important distinction.

“You play chess?” you asked, pointing to the board.

“Şah,” he replied.  

You pointed to the chair across from him.  “Can I join you?” 

“Luaţi loc,” he offered as he gestured to it as well, nodding in approval.  You smiled and sat down as he reorganized the pieces back to the starting position.

“Negru?” he asked, pointing to the black pieces-- “Sau alb?”-- he pointed to the white.

“Um, black,” you decided, pointing to them since they were already on your side anyways.

“Tu primul,” he prompted you, and you moved your pawn.  He moved his, and after that, it was long stretches of silence between moves.  It didn’t feel awkward anymore, though; even between two people who share a language, chess is usually a silent affair.

“Check,” you announced as your bishop came into range of his king.  He looked up from the board and gave you a puzzled look.  “The bishop, see?” you demonstrated, tracing a line through the air over the diagonal squares which led from your piece to his.

“Ahh,” he nodded, stroking his chin as he considered his next move.  It called additional attention to the shadow of stubble which dusted over his jaw.  

He maneuvred a rook in the path of your bishop, and you settled back into your chair and you pondered your options.

The next hour went by oddly quickly.  Not in a rushed way, just in a way that made you wonder how it had already been an hour.  

“Şah,” he informed you as his knight threatened your king.  You weren’t sure if it was supposed to mean ‘check’ or ‘checkmate,’ but since you were able to capture his knight with a pawn, it was definitely just a check.

Instead of mourning his knight, he grinned and moved a rook forward, capturing the aforementioned pawn and trapping your king for good.  You gasped a little as you realized you’d fallen right into his trap.

“Şah-Mat,” he declared triumphantly.  That definitely meant ‘checkmate’; you could tell by the smug look on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

“You got me, man, that was sneaky,” you smiled.  Offering your hand for a shake, you looked up at him: “Good game.”

He grabbed your hand and shook it, squeezing just tight enough that you wondered if you were the only one noticing a certain energy to the air.  “Bun joc,” he replied with a nod and a smile.

He let go of your hand after lingering just a little too long, his fingers brushing over yours for an electric moment.

Now the silence was awkward again, as the two of you sat in the high-backed chairs, staring across the table at each other.

“So, you really don’t speak any English at all, huh?” you considered aloud.  He looked back at you vacantly.  “English?  Even one word?” you lifted one finger as a symbol.

“Halloo,” he replied-- apparently a broken attempt at ‘hello.’  You laughed a little.

“Yes, that counts!  Did you learn any English in school?”

“Televiziune,” he replied.  

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “I know what that is.  Television; I’m a big fan myself.”

“Puteți vorbi un singur cuvânt de limba română?” he asked you, raising one finger as well.  Turnabout is fair play, after all.

“You mean other than ‘da’?  Or ‘salut’?” you asked with a laugh.

“Pentru a fi corect, acestea sunt cuvinte,” he shrugged.

“Teach me,” you requested.  “Just one word.”  

You looked around the room, settling on a lamp.  “What is this?  In Romanian-- română?” 

“Lampă,” he replied.

“Okay, well, that one isn’t very exciting,” you frowned.  “Um, what about this?” you bent down from your chair, picking up one corner of the rug.

“Covor,” he answered, leaning down with you to run his hand over the soft shag.

“Covor,” you repeated, surely butchering it.

“Da,” he smiled.  Okay, maybe you didn’t butcher it so bad, or maybe he was just being nice.  

“Can you teach me more?” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too demanding.

“Uhhh,” he stalled, looking around the room.  Finally, he pointed to the fireplace.  “Vatră.”

“Vatră, fireplace,” you tried to memorize it as he said it.

You pointed to the window.  “What’s the window called?”

“Fereastră.”

You pointed to the stairway.  “Scară,” he informed you, smiling a little.  You hoped this wasn’t boring for him, because you were actually having a bit of fun.

You pointed to his feet.  He furrowed his brow a little and lifted one, grabbing his shoe.  You nodded; “Pantof,” he explained.

You grabbed your blouse and shook it a little, appreciating the puffs of cool air that rolled down your chest;  “Bluză.”

You pointed to him; “Sebastian.”

You already knew that, but it was interesting to hear the way he said it versus Mrs. Alberti’s pronunciation.  “Yes, that’s an English name too,” you told him, “but pronounced differently…”

You wondered if your name had another pronunciation or translation, so you pointed to yourself; “Frumoasă,” he said, a little slower, a little more thoughtfully.

“Is that the Romanian equivalent to my name-- or does it mean ‘woman’?” you asked.  He just smiled vacantly.  

“This,” you pointed to the book, “what is this called?”

“Carte,” he answered.  “Engleză?”

“Book,” you replied.

“...book…” he said slowly, contemplatively.

Suddenly inspired, you grabbed the loose pages of manuscript that you’d laid on the small table beside you.  “Book,” you repeated, flipping through the pages.  He seemed confused.  “My book,” you clarified, pointing back and forth from yourself the papers.  “I’m writing this-- that’s why I’m here.”

“Ah!” his face lit up with recognition.  “Ar trebui să scrii o carte!”

“Yeah,” you nodded.  “I’m a writer; or, I’m trying to be.  My last book did… better than my first, at least.”  

“Ce fel de carte este?” he asked.  You looked at him with confusion to indicate you weren’t sure what he was asking.  “Uhh, book… este--” he made a sad face, rubbing under his eyes like a cartoon character’s weeping-- “sau--” he fake-laughed.

You laughed, actually, at his charades.  “It’s a thriller, it’s crime--” you thought for a moment, then made the motion of stabbing someone with a knife. 

His eyes got wider.  “Este… erotic?” 

You choked a little, realizing that your hand movement was… more ambiguous than you originally intended.  “No!” you blurted out suddenly.  “No, it’s… crime, mystery--” 

You looked around and saw a magnifying glass resting on the side table by your chair; grabbing it, you held it to your face and gave your best quizzical look.

“Oh!  Crimă!” he grinned.  “Detectiv?”

“Yes, yes, there’s a detective,” you sighed satisfactorily, “and absolutely no handjobs.”

~

shamelessly tagging the people who liked chapter 1!  @mariahthelioness29 @navybrat817 @navegandoaciegas @mandalorianspace @2smittinkittin @maizyistrash @honeygingergemini​ 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Mystery Twins: Not Freaking Out

A new AU inspired by Mystery Skulls…

AO3 link

Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~

April 6th, 1972

“What?! Stanford, tell him he’s crazy!”

But Ford glanced down at his navy-blue pamphlet, wincing, and closed the curtains, purposely keeping his eyes off his brother.

“Stanford? Don’t leave me hanging?” Stanley croaked. “High six?”

And the door was slammed in his face by his father’s hand, deaf to the wails of his nephew and the choked sobs from his mother.

Stanley growled in his throat. “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone! I’ll make millions and you’re RUE the day you turned your back on me!”

~~~~~~~~~~

May 14th, 1976

Fiddleford had insisted that he and Stanford go out to celebrate their upcoming graduation. In a few days they would no longer be students, ready to use what they learned out in the real world. Stanford was reluctant, but agreed. What were the odds anything outside of a few drinks and some good food would occur? Stanford had a lot to drink for and it did seem like he never left campus for some typical college fun, so he took a shot and then stuck to some cozy beer and some onion rings.

After fleeing Columbia prison with a gang, and then weaseling his way out of that mess in New Mexico, Stanley had been apprehensive about trying to make it big in southern California, not knowing much about Stanford’s new life, but he did know that’s where he was going to college; Moses bless Ma and her phone calls. But what were the odds Stanley would ever run into his brother? He needed the money so he took the shot. 

At first, Stanford thought it was his imagination and he nearly choked on his beer while Fiddleford was busy talking to a guy who was also from Tennessee. A second, longer look confirmed his fears and Stanford saw his long-lost family member exit the bar, leaving behind a small table with a few empty beers on it to smoke.

With Stanley’s back to him, Stanford studied him through the glass. His hair was a bit longer than how he kept it in high-school and it wasn’t slick back tonight; probably from holding his head so much. From what Stanford had seen before Stanley had leaned against the window, his face wasn’t as round and youthful as it was four years ago; he had grown a square jaw like Pa’s. Like Stanford’s. His skin was rough and scraggly, unlike Stanford who was clean-shaved, and he wore work boots, dirty jeans, and a worn white t-shirt. Stanley Pines looked rough around the edges, but when he re-entered the bar Stanford saw that spark in his brown eyes that guaranteed a heart made of plastic gold and a promise to protect the things he cares about.

Stanford wanted to be angry. He wanted to shake his rage, punch the jerk in the face, and leave for campus. But he couldn’t. He was too relieved to see his brother alive and a very very small part of him had missed him like crazy these last four years. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive Stanley for what he did, but maybe if he was ready to apologize, Stanford could be ready.

Stanley’s eyes landed on Stanford on his way to his table and he froze like a statue and paled three sheets. Stanford wondered if Stanley would pass out and he could feel himself turn red with embarrassment. He bit his lip and tried to move his own eyes to the six-fingered hand around his drink, but his mind stayed on Stanley and the corner of his eye kept him in view.

Stanley looked ready to walk out the door, but with a sigh he returned to his table. Stanford could feel Stanley staring at his back; he let him; it was only fair that Stanley got to absorb Stanford’s appearance since he had his fill of how much Stanley had changed. He was bigger than he was in high-school, taller and slightly thicker maybe, but not nearly as muscular as his twin. Stanford’s hair was still an uncontrollable fluffy mess and he still wore glasses, and today he wore clean jeans with black sneakers to go with his black t-shirt that was covered by a brown jacket with tons of pockets.

Stanford couldn’t stand his brother looking at him and not looking back for too long. When he looked at Stanley, a waitress was picking up the empty glasses. Stanford watched Stanley hold up two fingers, the waitress nodded and said something he could hear across the bar, and she left. Stanley looked at Stanford, their eyes meeting, and he gestured casually for Stanford to join him at his two-person table and looked away, waiting for Stanford to either accept or reject the invitation. After taking a deep breath, Stanford swallowed one last mouthful of his drink, wiped his lips dry, and made himself walk to his brother’s table.

If either of them thought things were awkward before the moment Stanford sat in the empty chair, the atmosphere became even thicker and the room suddenly felt even warmer. None of them said a word and remained silent until the waitress came by with two more beers. While Stanford quietly thanked her, Stanley gulped his down. Stanford snorted with a small smile as he brought his glass up to his lips. The drink half-empty, Stanley slammed his down, gave a small grunt, and spat out, “So, what’s the word, Sixer?”

Stanford smiled as he slowly began to spill about college and his new friends. Well, more like best friend and acquaintances, but his status was much better than it was in high-school and he was much happier. Stanley nearly choked on his beer when Stanford mentioned his twelve PhDs and he immediately congratulated him and told him how proud he was; he even ordered two shots to celebrate with. Stories of college were swapped for stories of Stanley’s travels and before either brothers knew it, it was almost like nothing had ever happened. (This was probably thanks to the alcohol in their systems, but let’s not ruin a good thing.)

As less and less people crowded the bar and the drinks started to slow down, more and more was said between the pair of twins and it was almost too easy with how things flowed. Eventually they were the only ones at the bar and they could tell the staff was waiting for them to leave so they could close, so they decided to go for a walk to keep the good conversation going. It seemed like nothing could end such a surprisingly successful night until the hairs on the back of Stanley’s neck stood up and he looked over his shoulder.

Four dreary shadows followed them in the dead of night, but Stanley recognized them instantly. He tried to get Stanford to leave, but the eldest twin refused, no matter how hard the younger one pushed. Stanley stopped trying when Stanford gritted through his teeth, “I won’t abandon you again, Lee.”

The twins may have been out-numbered, but the gang was out-matched. After a few scrapes and close calls, the Pines twins left the goons on the sidewalk and ran before the cops could be called. One look at Stanley while under a lamppost and Stanford saw how badly his brother was beaten, so he forced him onto a trolley for Backupsmore and took him up to his dorm, where a first-aid kit sat under his bed.

Stanford ignored the fact that Fiddleford wasn’t back while he fixed Stanley up. He also ignored his twin’s groveling, claiming he could take care of himself, but Stanley had a broken nose and needed the extra pair of hands to snap his bones back into place. When all was said and done and Stanley’s schnoz had quit bleeding, Stanford filled an ice pack and made his twin lay down on his bed so he could rest. That was when Stanley spat out what had been on his mind all night.

“Why do you even care?” His eyes were covered by his beefy arm, making his expression hard to read. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Stanford stared. Had he really made it seem he was so angry at Stanley he wouldn’t help him? “I… Yes. Yes, I’m still mad at you, but… but I…” He stumbled over his words and swallowed, the ice pack making his fingers numb.

Stanley peeked at his brother and sighed. “I’m mad, too… but I missed you so much that I ain’t got the time to be mad. You get what I’m sayin’?”

Stanford smiled and could feel a hundred pounds being lifted from his shoulders. “I think so. I might be angry at you for what you did, but I’m at a point in which I don’t care. At least, not as much as I care about getting my brother back.” He added nervously.

Stanley finally returned the smile. “Yeah. Me too.” And he accepted the ice pack and placed it on his head to help with the ache.

The next morning, Fiddleford tiptoed into his dorm and was surprised to find Stanford asleep on the floor, sitting with his arms-crossed on the bed, and a stranger on Stanford’s bed, one of his hands in Stanford’s hair. But a closer look told Fiddleford that the stranger was family and so he left them alone without a single sound.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No way?!” Stanley reread the check his brother handed to him. His eyes were particularly drawn to all those zeros, but he also checked the address and such and such. He grinned proudly and handed the slip of paper back with a playfully shove of his twin’s shoulder. “Congrats, Sixer!”

“Thank you, Stanley.” Stanford replied with rosy cheeks, pocketing the check in his brown jacket. “Now I just have to decide on what to study and how I’ll study it.”

“You’ll figure something out.” Stanley said as he munched on his bacon, happy to sit at a breakfast joint with his brother and just casually talk about life and junk. He didn’t need anything else. “Stanford Pines always thinks of a way.”

Stanford chuckled nervously, then changed the subject. “So, how do you like San Francisco?”

“It’s nice.” Stanley muttered with a shrug. “Not gonna lie, much of what I’ve already seen. Big city on water. It’s a lot nicer than Columbia, for sure, but it’s okay.” Stanford didn’t miss how uncomfortable he was about the subject, which made him only more sure what he was about to say was the right thing.

“I… I think I’ve decided what I want to study.”

Stanley grinned, his spirit much higher. “That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s hear it!”

“Well, when I was thinking about it, I couldn’t help but remember how I had always been teased for my six fingers.” Stanford started, raising a hand and wiggling his fingers. “But that got me thinking about anomalies.” And he pulled out his book on the subject and set it on the table for Stan to pick up and flick through the pages. “You know, things that are odd, unusual, statistically improbable, but not impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible, yeah I know.” Stanley agreed. “Well this all looks great! So you’re gonna go find monsters and stuff? Sounds right up your alley!”

“Thank you.” Stanford said with a smile. “I’ve already calculated where to start, and there appears to be a large cluster of anomalies in Oregon. The grant will cover the cost of a house and lab and everything I could need to properly investigate. But… it’s a bit overwhelming.” Stanford admitted. “It’s a lot to explore for one man.”

“Hey hey,” Stanley said firmly to squash any doubt. “You’ll be amazing at it.”

“I was thinking of hiring an assistant.” Stanford went on, hoping to get his point across successfully. “The grant is enough to cover some help.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea! What about that Fiddlesticks guy?”

“I was actually thinking of keeping this in the family.”

Stanley’s smile dropped. After staring at him for a second or two, he lowered his head and sipped his orange juice. “Oh.”

“I’ll pay you for your work.” Stanford explained. “I haven’t even started on the blueprints for the house yet, but you were always creative and ingenuitive; we can think of a design we both like and would give us our own rooms and space. You wouldn’t have to pay for rent or the bills, you working would do that, but your pay would be lower, but it would be enough for whatever you need. Sure, if I really had to I could probably figure it out, but I would really rather not, and…”

“I’m in.”

It was Stanford’s turn to stare. He was really expecting his brother to refuse, to be stubborn about this. Stanford wasn’t an idiot; he knew Stanley was living in his car and had not been doing well the last four years, and he harbored a lot of guilt for that, but now he had a chance to make things right. Things were still uncertain, and there were still some things about what happened they would have to talk about, some day, but family helps family. Right? “Really?”

Stanley laughed and smiled at him. “Yeah, bro! You need help and I can help you, so I’m in. Last thing I need is for you to go skipping into Roadkill County by yourself and getting eaten by a two-headed mountain lion or something. ‘Sides, we always wanted to go on monster hunts as kids, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life is way too short to not do whatcha wanna do.”

Stanford grinned. “You won’t regret this, Lee! I swear!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Stanley chuckled. It was scary how similar they were; it appeared that Stanford was just as scared of losing Stanley as Stanley was of losing Stanford. “Wherever we go, we go together, right?” And he raised a hand to him.

Stanford grinned. “Right.” And they sealed the deal with a high-six.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 30th, 2000

“Move! MOVE! Outta my way!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Please excuse us, sorry!”

Ford was attempting to be the responsible and respectful one, since Stan was clearly going to be rambunctious and obnoxious enough for them both, but truth be told, if Stan was the one who was calm, Ford would be going ballistic.

They both ran into the hospital lobby, glanced at the directions board for the correct floor, and glanced at the elevator, stuffed with people like sardines in a tin can. Stan groaned and darted for the door to the stairs, making Ford grin and follow. They both used their adrenaline to run as fast as they could up the stairs and they nearly broke the door off the hinges at the sixth floor.

Of course, no one familiar was there to greet them, but the twins took that as a good sign; they hadn’t missed it. They walked to room 18 and saw that it was labeled “Pines.” The door suddenly opened and they were met faced-to-face with their nephew, Alex. 

The young man grinned at the sight of his uncles. “Hey! You made it!”

“We wouldn’t miss it, my boy.” Ford assured, patting his back.

“Is the squirt here yet?” Stan asked. 

Alex shook his head. “No, not yet. But Dana’s at eight centimeters, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Well, we’re here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks. I better go get her ice chips…”

“Oh, I gotcha, sport.” Stan said and headed down the hall casually, his hands in the pockets of his khakis.

“Seriously,” Alex muttered to Ford, a bit more mournful now. “I really appreciate… I’m glad you’re both here.”

Ford smiled kindly and squeezed his shoulder. “Your father would be very proud.”

Alex managed to smile back. An alarm rang over the door for room 18, and Alex ran back inside, leaving Ford to stand there in horror as Dana lay in bed, sweating. Two doctors hurried inside the hospital room and the door was closed, leaving Ford in the dark. He sighed, hoping no more death would strike this family, and he took a seat in the hall to wait.

Stan was shaken, but hid it well, when he came back and Ford had to tell him that something wasn’t right. They were both very surprised when the door was thrown open and Dana was wheeled out in her bed. Alex was squeezing her hand as two doctors called out orders and took the new mother away. Ford and Stan hurried close behind, but were stopped at a different door.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but only the father is allowed with the mother for the C-Section.”

The twins paled. “C-Section?!”

Two hours later, Alex emerged, shaking, but grinning. “They’re… they’re okay. They’re okay.”

“Holy Moses, Lil’Lex, what happened?” Stan said sympathetically.

“It’s… well, why don’t you come in first, then I’ll tell you.” Alex suggested. The pair of men nodded, and were led into a bigger room.

Dana was asleep, apparently on some kind of medicine to help her sleep. There was a special hospital crib next to the big bed. Stan and Ford cautiously approached with Alex, but Ford had to cover his mouth with his six-fingered hand and Stan accidentally let out a long line of swears, making Ford smack him upside the head.

There were two babies. One wore a pink hat, one wore a blue hat, both wrapped in warm blankets, and lying close together. There was a second crib off to the side, but there was no wonder why it wasn’t in use. Twins stick together.

“Mighty Axolotl, thank you.” Ford muttered under his breath. “Alex, they’re beautiful.”

Stan rounded on his nephew and ruffled his fluffy brown hair. “You trying to be a conman like your uncle?”

“Heh, we did decide to take a leaf outta your book, Uncle Stan.” Alex admitted. “We wanted to surprise you both. That’s why things were a bit complicated, but everything worked out. The girl, Mabel, came out first. She kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

“Hah! That’s my girl!” Stan said proudly.

“The boy, Mason, had his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Came out blue.” Alex admitted. “He’s okay now, just gave us a scare, but the doctors say he’ll be alright.”

“Thank goodness.” Ford looked down at the baby boy and smiled, truly grateful he was okay, and he thought he could see something poking out of his hat, but it was probably just fuzz.

Alex watched amusingly as the older twins just looked down at the sleeping younger twins. They were smiling so peacefully while their brown eyes were glued hungrily at the newborns. Alex waited for them to ask, but apparently they weren’t going to, so he chuckled warmly, “You know you can hold them too, if you want.”

Ford swallowed. “V-Very well…”

Meanwhile Stan pulled up a chair, sat, and excitedly waited like a child.

Alex scooped up the baby boy and gave him to Stan, who held him like a champ. Then Alex carefully picked up his little daughter and let Ford hold her, who was as stiff as wood and extremely cautious, but after a minute of feeling how peaceful she breathed against him and slept, it was easy to relax.

“Hello,” Ford muttered down at the baby girl, who slept happily.

Stan smiled down at the baby boy, getting strong deja vu from when he held his nephew all those years ago. He noticed something on the baby’s forehead and carefully freed a hand to smooth over his skin, but it wasn’t something that could be wiped away. He gently pushed the tiny blue hat up the small forehead and beamed with pride at the unique birthmark. “Well, look at you, buddy boy. Whatcha hiding that for, ey? That’s pretty special.”

Ford looked down and smiled. “How interesting.”

“Kinda looks like the Big Dipper.” Stan said.

Ford chuckled. “It does.” Something caught his eye, drawing his attention back to the baby girl. She was stirring in Ford’s arms, and soon opened one eye, getting used to the bright world. The scientist held his breath as she looked up at him, and slowly opened her other eye, staring up at him with brown eyes that matched his own. “Stanley,” He hissed. “Stanley, he’s looking at me.”

Stan looked and smiled. “She must see something she likes.” He sneered playfully.

Ford smiled warmly down at her. “Hello there, sweetheart. I’m your Great-Uncle Ford, hi.”

Stan snorted and looked down at his new nephew. “That’s too much of a mouthful. You two gremlins just call me your Grunkle Stan, k’?”

~~~~~~~~~~

January 18th, 2001

The phone was ringing. No, maybe Stan had dreamed the phone rang, because when he lifted his head to listen, he couldn’t hear it, so he let his head fall back on his pillow and he began snoring again.

Ford soon opened the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed deeply to control himself, and then he entered Stan’s bedroom. He stood beside his sleeping brother and squeezed his shoulder. “Stanley. Stanley, wake up please.”

Stan blinked awake, groaned, and turned. “Whatcha want, Sixer?”

“Stanley, please sit up. I need to tell you something.”

That got his attention; how grave Ford’s voice sounded, how serious, how scary and non-urgent it was. This wasn’t an emergency, but it wasn’t good if Ford was waking him up in the middle of the night. Stan sat up and slipped on his glasses. “What’s wrong?”

Ford sat on the bed, facing his twin. He was quiet for a moment, but then began to talk in a melancholy tone. “W-We… um… The…” Ford cleared his throat in a sad attempt to start again. “I need you to, please, be ready to leave for California as soon as you can. W-We should pack for a few days, maybe a week just in case.”

A shiver went down Stan’s spine. “Why?”

Ford took in a deep breath and took off his glasses. That was never a good sign. “Alex and D-Dana went out. Left Mason and Mabel with a neighbor for a date night. I-It was raining…” And Ford was at a loss for words.

Stan sighed tiredly. “They got into a car crash, didn’t they?”

Ford nodded.

Stan clapped his hands on his knees. “Well, we can help ‘em out. Those little guys love us, and we can stay longer than a week to help the love birds recover.”

“Stanley… they can’t recover.”

That nearly made Stan’s heart stop. He watched as Ford’s head was hung low, but he could still see how wet his eyes were. 

Ford swallowed and croaked out, “They’re gone.”

Stan bit his lip.

Ford turned his head away. “Let’s try to leave within the hour…” He made to move, to attempt to be a man and hide his tears, but Stan wouldn’t let him.

He brought his brother in for a tight, warm hug, and closed his eyes. Ford’s eyes brimmed with tears, and fell when he shut his eyes and buried his face in his twin’s shoulder, but he couldn’t do more than shudder and control his breathing. Stan was still as stone, but a single tear leaked out of one eye, and he let it fall without shame.

~~~~~~~~~~

The nice old lady who had babysat the twins when their parents died kept an eye on them until the uncles arrived, coming just as quickly as they did the day they heard the niblings were being born.

When Ford and Stan arrived at their dead nephew’s house and made a short journey to the one next door, crying disturbed their ears. The frail old lady sighed sadly and explained to the men, “I’ve tried everything for her. Bless her heart, she’s fine, but she misses her parents.”

When the old lady shuffled away to find her spare key for Alex and Dana’s house, Stan and Ford went to see their niece and nephew, the pair in a bassinet in the living room. Soft music played on a record-player, but they were deaf to it. Poor Mabel was crying her little heart out, wailing as hot tears streamed her red cheeks. Mason was by her side, holding her hand as his bottom lip trembled, trying to help his sister but having no idea how.

Stan noticed this and smiled down at the six-month-olds. He ruffled the brown fuzz on top of Mason’s head and cooed, “Hey there, gremlins. Remember us? C’mere, pumpkin, let’s see if we can’t make you feel better, ey?” Stan carefully picked Mabel up and Mason let go of her hand, his bottom lip still shaking with emotion.

Poor Mabel still cried just the same, but Stan was patient and even smiled at her stubbornness. Ford watched, intrigued, as Stan cradled the baby girl in his muscular arm, ran a finger down her button nose a few times, slowly, and breathed deeply. By the time he ran his finger down her nose the third time, Mabel had stopped crying, curious, and then yawned, turning towards his chest and clinging onto his red Hawaiian shirt.

“There we go, better?” Stan asked. Whimpering from the bassinet made Stan chuckle and he reached a strong arm down for his nephew. “Don’t think I forgot about you, Lil’Dipper. I gotcha.”

“How did you do that?” Ford whispered as Mabel snuggled against his chest and Mason calmed down the second he was in Stan’s embrace.

The businessman shrugged. “I dunno, it worked for Alex when he got fussy and it worked on one of Soos’ cousins at Thanksgiving last year.”

Ford smiled and patted his shoulder. “Well you’ve always had a way with children, Stanley.”

“You’ll get the hang of it, Sixer, don’t worry.” Stan assured, but he was suspicious when he saw a new expression on Ford’s face. “Well we are taking them home with us.” You would think they had this conversation on the long car-ride, but the drive had been dead silent as the cold reality had set in.

“Stanley, no.” Ford said firmly, looking away. “We can’t.”

“Have you lost your mind, cuz I’ll help you find it!” Stan scolded. “Why in the world wouldn’t we take them home?!”

“W-... I… I w-... It’s not a good idea.” Ford stuttered, finally looking at his brother again. “It’s not that I don’t want to! I want to! And you would be brilliant at it, Stanley! But… But they would be b-... I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“You were fine at the hospital!”

“That was different! Gravity Falls is too dangerous. I hate to say it, but they…”

“Then don’t say it.” Stan growled warningly. He calmed down a little, and then said with the kind of authority that made his word final, “Listen, we’re family; wherever we go, we go together. If they didn’t come home with us, where would they go? Everyone’s gone, so they’d go in the system, and you and I have both heard the horror stories. Best case scenario they would be separated, and that’s the best case scenario. They aren’t going in the system. They’re coming home.

“And what’s all this talk about you not being good enough for them?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say some stupid sh-stuff! They need you, and you need them. And honestly, if these kids are anything like us, I’m more worried about the town surviving than I am of them being okay.”

Ford snorted and bit his lip, smiling down at the pair of babies.

“It’ll work out, Sixer, just you wait and see.” Stan reassured and handed Mabel to him, despite the frantic look on Ford’s face and the fact that he was shaking his head “no”. 

Mabel hadn’t really fallen asleep; she was merely resting against Stan’s body. Now she grabbed Ford’s black sweater tightly and nuzzled her chubby cheeks into the yarn. She smiled at the soft touch. Ford held his breath, waiting for Mabel to start crying again, but she didn’t. He took in a few breaths and adjusted his hold so she was cradled more comfortably. The scientist smiled down at her and found all of his troubles were a bit less troubling.

“And no offense, Brainiac, but I don’t give a… gnome’s butt what you say.” Stan injected; he was really going to have to work on his swears. “I’m going to the courthouse before we leave town and I’m adopting these gremlins.”

“What?!” Ford looked back up at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Stan had a very serious look on his face that Ford had only seen on rare occasions. “I ain’t risking some distant cousin or whatnot deciding I ain’t good enough, or the system deciding to take ‘em. They’re my kids…”

“I want to adopt them with you.” Ford interrupted, his voice lighter than it had been all conversation.

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do that…”

“I want to.” Ford said earnestly, looking back down at Mabel. The second Stan mentioned the possibility of them going away again, Ford’s heart broke. He couldn’t do it. Not if his life depended on it. He couldn’t let his children go. “Y-you’re right. I can’t… I can’t lose…” And he bit his lip and cleared his throat. “You were right, Stanley.”

“Heh. A broken clock is right twice a day.” Stan quoted and let Mason hold his finger as he held him in his arms. “Trust me. We’ll be okay.”

And Ford nodded, putting all of his trust in his family.

~~~~~~~~~~

“SIXER! C’MERE!”

Ford jumped up from his desk, knocking his chair to the floor, and sprinted down the hall for the living room, where he was certain his brother was yelling from. He stood at the doorway to find Mabel standing thanks to the help of the couch, a chubby hand on the cushion, and Dipper on his hands and knees beside her. Stan was sitting on the floor just two feet away from the toddlers and grinned at his brother. “Mabel almost took her first steps!”

“Really?!” Ford gasped happily and stepped into the room to watch.

“C’mere, pumpkin!” Stan cooed and waved his hands to himself. “Come to Grunkle Stan, c’mere!”

Mabel giggled and bounced on her knees, but still didn’t step to him. Stan even clapped one or twice to grab her attention, but all that made her do was let go of the couch to clap, but she was more than capable of standing on her own.

“Go on, sweetie, you can do it.” Ford encouraged.

At last Mabel seemed to notice that her other great-uncle was present. She turned and smiled a big smile at him, showcasing her new baby teeth, and surprised everyone when she turned and ran to Ford. Mabel might have tripped and fallen on her baby butt, but that didn’t stop her from giggling and reaching out for Ford, who instantly scooped her up while Stan stood, laughing.

“Mabel, you can walk! Clever girl, clever girl!” Ford praised.

“That’s our girl!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was on the floor of the living room a few days later, playing with Dipper and Mabel, building block towers. The door opened and closed and a booming voice called, “Where’s my troublemakers, ey?!”

The babies squealed and giggled and had a little race, crawling as fast as they could to the hall where Stan stood with groceries in his arms, but he sat the food on the floor to have free hands for his kids, and he scooped them up and scratched their chubby cheeks with his stubble.

“Hey there, kiddos? Been good for Grunkle Ford? No? Good!”

Ford rolled his eyes as he picked up the groceries. “They were as good as gold.”

“Eh, I guess that’s okay.” Stan smiled at Dipper, who was reaching for his glasses, and said, “Hi.”

Dipper smiled. “Hi!”

Ford did a double take as Stan laughed proudly and squeezed his nephew.

~~~~~~~~~~

From first steps to first words to first birthdays, the pair of old explorers were there for everything and couldn’t believe their luck. Pretty soon they were taking the children on safe adventures with them, fishing and hiking, and teaching them everything from Cowls to how to hot-wire cop cars. For eight years their lives were complete and things were too good to be true.

But then Stan went missing. At first Ford wasn’t too worried, only mildly annoyed, but to be fair they had a disagreement recently and Stan was a grown man, so maybe he needed to blow off steam. But then days went by. This was extremely unlike Stan, and there were some people that would want him gone, so without scaring the children too much, he began searching for his twin, definitely not freaking out.

[sugako]

confessions

pairing: pretimeskip!daichi x tinytitty!reader

synopsis: reader is trying to confess to daichi but gets discouraged when she sees his ‘type’ is not who she is on the club room poster

warnings: angst, fluff, body insecurities (specifically insecurities about having a smaller chest), insecurities about finding love

a/n: this one is a little long..i keep seeing the post about the karasuno’s boys ‘types’ in the club room from forever ago and ive been thinking about this

You were trembling as you stepped up to the club room. The year was nearly over and you were about to graduate. Part of you, well actually most of you, believed it was stupid to do this now. The light pink envelope fluttered in your fingertips like a leaf in the fall breeze. It all felt so corny and stupid.

It wasn’t his fault, Sugawara had encouraged you. In all your years of being in the same class, you weren’t exactly close, but you had formed a bond over schoolwork. He noticed right away when you and Daichi had been paired up for a project. The way both you and Daichi had blushed when he asked you to call him by his first name was enough for him. 

From there he had facilitated what he had considered dates, always slipping away early so it was just you and Daichi. Still, nothing ever came of it. You were too unaware of your feelings for so long that you never tried to be anything more than friends. Some deeper part of you knew, but you were busy with school and extracurriculars and you knew that Daichi was busy with the same. Besides, in your opinion, he had never really shown that he was interested. 

Sure, you texted about nothing and everything. He brought you hot tea some mornings before an exam and you accidentally cooked too much of his favorite ramen more than once and asked for him to come over and finish it with you. Just friends and nothing more. 

But you couldn’t deny the way your heart raced when his fingers brushed yours or when you locked eyes for a little too long. 

So now you were fidgeting in the club room alone because Sugawara had encouraged you and let you in. He was waiting now just outside the door, only making you more nervous. To steady your breathing you looked at the things around you. That’s when you saw it. In the back corner a poster with the upperclassmen preferences in women. 

At first, you giggled and gagged at a couple of them, but your eyes traveled to his name. You knew you shouldn’t have read it. You knew you shouldn’t even be here. This was wrong and stupid and he didn’t like you. You looked down at your own chest.

I’m not what he wants… 

Your brain was buzzing with shame and pain so loud you didn’t even hear the door open and close. 

“Y/N? Suga said you wanted to see me.” 

You jumped and stuffed the envelope in a side pocket of your backpack. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill over, you turned around. Your chest tightened at the sight of him. He was handsome as always and looked so concerned now. 

“Oh, it was nothing, I just… uh, have you seen, uh, I lost a notebook. I think I left it in the classroom though I just remembered.” The lie slipped off your tongue unevenly. 

“You can use my notes if you need.”

“No, no!” You answered a little too fast, already pushing past him. “I’m just gonna go check the room.”

“See ya.” It almost sounded like he was asking a question the way he said it. 

“Yeah, bye!” You chirped, already crashing through the door. 

You nearly crashed into Suga on your way out.

“How’d it--” 

“I didn’t.” You answered not meeting his eyes and walking past him. 

“Wait, y/n--” 

You were already gone, half jogging home while tears spilled over your eyes. 

“I’m being so dramatic.” You spoke aloud to yourself as soon as you were safely away from the school. “I shouldn’t get so upset over something so stupid.” You sniffled, wiping the tears away. It really was nothing, but as soon as you read that you couldn’t help from every insecurity you had creeping up into your head.

Small chest.

He doesn’t like you. 

No one will ever like you. 

No one will love you. 

You hated how you tumbled like that from one little thing. While you were aware of how ridiculous it was, it didn’t stop you from tumbling into your own personal pit of despair. 

You reached back to grab the envelope to throw it out in a garbage bin on the street. When you felt nothing, you panicked and ripped your bag off. There was nothing in either side pocket. In a fit, you went through all the pockets of your bag even though you knew what had happened. You looked behind you down the road. There was no sign of a pink envelope. 

Taking a heaving breath, you began to trudge back to the school. 

Hopefully, no one has picked it up. 

“Y/N, you…” Daichi peeked his head out the door right after you left, “She’s gone.”

Suga looked up from where he had been watching you walk off. 

“Oh, yeah. What’d she say.”

“She lost a notebook, but this letter dropped out of her bag.” He held it up. 

Suga smirked. 

“It has your name on it, turn it over.” 

Daichi flipped the envelope and a bright red flush filled his cheeks. 

“You should open it.” Suga walked past him into the room. 

“She… she didn’t give it to me, she just dropped it.” 

“It’s addressed to you.” He said without looking up. 

“That’s… I mean, yeah, but I don’t think I…” 

“Do you have feelings for her?” Suga couldn’t stand to listen to his clueless friend babble on like this. 

Daichi was silent until Suga finally looked at him. 

“I care about her.”

Suga sighed and jabbed him in the side. 

“Listen, it’s pretty obvious that you like her so you should just read that letter to see how she feels!” 

“Agh!” Daichi recoiled from the jab, clutching his side. “I do, I really like her, but she…” 

“But she what?! She wrote you a pink letter that she was too nervous to give to you and ran away, what’s confusing about this?” 

Daichi rolled his eyes and sat on the floor, clutching the letter tightly. He admired how you had written his name for just too long before carefully peeling at the close of the envelope. 

A small cream-colored piece of stationery flitted into his hand. Your handwriting he had silently admired from afar for so long filled the page with pretty words and memories. You had explained yourself in full. His heart ached toward the end of the short letter where you wrote about how you were unsure of how he felt, but assumed he didn’t share the feelings. 

His eyes grew glossy as he reread it over and over again. He hadn’t even noticed Suga had left the room.

“Daichi?” Now your soft voice made him jump. 

His heart broke when he saw the redness around your eyes and wet streaks on your cheeks. You looked so full of fear and regret. 

“Y/N, I…” He stood and walked to where you were frozen in the doorway. 

“You can pretend you didn’t read that. Or we can stop being friends if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it!” You started up, wiping away the tears that were spilling over once more. 

“Wait, I…why didn’t you give this to me earlier?” 

“Well, you… I know you don’t like me, so I just felt dumb and I don’t know. It was a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“I like you, why would you think I don’t?” 

He said it so confidently and calmly it surprised himself. You barely processed it, still caught up in your own head. 

“I just, I mean, I saw…” You glanced over toward the poster and looked away ashamed. “Wait, you like me?” You perked up and looked at him again as he was glancing over his shoulder. A deep blush and a look of shame and embarrassment filled his features as he looked back to you finally meeting your eyes. 

He pulled you close, arms wrapping around your shoulders. Slowly, you brought your arms around his waist. 

“It was just a silly thing where we wrote our types a while ago, but you… you’re still my type because I like you. I don’t really care about stuff like that.”

You stayed like that for a long moment, with your face trapped against his chest. 

“Sorry, I ran away like that. That was a little dramatic.” You giggled. “Also…” you cut yourself off by laughing too hard. Worried you were crying he held you back to look at your face, his features softening when he realized you were just wheezing. “Suga likes older women?!” 

He broke out in a deep laugh, the pressure of the situation dissipating. 

“I’m not trying to judge him, I was just surprised!” You carried on. 

“Us too!” He gasped through laughs. 

After a few moments, you had both settled down and settled back into each other’s arms. 

“We should probably go on a real date now, huh. Can’t keep making Suga force us to go out and then leave us.” 

You tried to hide your face in his jacket, smiling widely. 

“That sounds nice.” 

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 8 || Let Me Bear Your Scars

Warnings: The Horde.

Words: 3400+

Previous || Next

~8~

What a view they must have made; standing outside of the grocery store as Iris chased Luke in circles in an attempt to get her one bag of groceries from him. Luke was wearing a confident smirk on his face as he continued to hold them out of reach, his bags of food sitting a foot away against the wall as they waited for the cab he had called. “You’re being a child! How old are you, anyway?”

 “I am twenty-six, I will have you know,” he snarked back, keeping the bag out of reach even as Iris stood on the tips of her toes and stretched to the best of her ability.

 “Then act like it!”

 The honk of a car horn drew their attention away from one another, turning them to the road as a bright yellow cab pulled up to the curb. “Ha!” Luke cheered before he rushed over to open the back door, rain immediately pouring down over him as he placed Iris’s bag in the back seat. The small woman let out a faint sigh before pulling the hood of her coat over her head and rushed out after him. “You get in, I’ll grab the other ones,” he assured, directing Iris into the back seat as the driver nodded to her in silent greeting.

Iris’s lips barely twitched with a smile in return, her head bowing down in avoidance as Luke closed the door to her right. Luke was quick as he retrieved his bags from against the building and deposited them into the trunk of the cab. “Where to, miss?” the driver called back after a brief pause. “He said that you were being dropped off first?”

 “Oh, yea,” Iris stuttered a moment, before she rattled off her address. It was only a few minutes down the road, but the downpour that was pelting the car was a pretty good excuse for taking the cab.

 She’d barely finished telling the driver when Luke opened the door on Iris’s other side, sliding in as quickly as he could to avoid further rain. It was rather useless, however, because he was already soaked to the bone from the few short moments he had been in it. “Wow, cats and dogs,” he gasped as he shook his head, water trailing down his face. At least his leather jacket had prevented the rain from getting to his shirt and making it all the more uncomfortable for him.

 The driver pulled away from the curb in that instant, jolting Iris to nearly slide into the door. “You’re dripping everywhere,” Iris mumbled, reaching out to catch a raindrop that was a moment away from dripping off his nose. “I hope your door is close to the curb,” she added on, glancing out the window at the rush of water that was caused by the heavy rain and wind.

 “Yea, not really,” Luke reluctantly admitted. “But, I’ve done this before,” he assured with a smile, bringing out his dimples. “Not in an all-out downpour, though.”

 “I’d been hoping I would beat the rain. That didn’t really happen.”

 “Bet you’re happy you ran into me?” he prodded with a teasing smirk. Iris huffed a laugh as she reluctantly nodded. She couldn’t imagine having to walk home while it was pouring rain outside. That paled in comparison to her having met her second soulmate in little more than a week. She never thought that it would happen so quickly.

 She wanted to say a bit more to him, to express her happiness about meeting him, but it concerned her that they were in a car with someone they didn’t know, even if he was the driver. Before she had any further time to think on the matter, the car slowed to a stop at the curb outside of Iris’s building. The familiar white stones were her only warning before the driver glanced back at the two of them, as though silently bidding her out.

 “I’ll help you,” Luke immediately offered, giving no room for Iris to argue before he had popped open the door and slipped out with her bag of groceries in hand. The small woman stuttered in surprise, getting a muffled chuckle from the driver as he quickly diverted his attention to the front window again.

 “Thank you for the ride,” Iris called up to him, her voice still timidly quiet before she turned to the door as Luke opened it for her.

 “I’ll be just a second,” Luke assured the man before he helped Iris from her seat and helped her to rush for the entrance of her building, a supportive hand against her back while the other carried her bag. “I’m real happy I met you, Iris,” he said as he leaned down to her level and tightened his arm around her waist. “Everyone else is gunna be jealous; I got to meet our soulmate.”

 “Don’t brag too much,” Iris warned with an answering smile. Taking her bag from him and wrapping another arm around his shoulders, making Luke lean down to her height so that she could hold onto him more easily. “I’m happy I met you, too, Luke. Get home safe.”

 “Promise,” he mumbled back, leaning against the crook of her neck for a moment. Then he was pulling away, taking the warmth of his body from Iris as he stepped back, and rushed to the cab that was waiting patiently for him. Iris lingered at the door long enough to wave him off, then stepped into her building quickly to escape the chill.

 Slipping into the stairwell, she was left with a smile brightening her features as she steadily climbed up to the top floor. One of her neighbours was making their way down passed Iris on her way from the second-floor entrance, giving her a strange look when she realized that Iris was smiling. There were very few people in the building that had actually met Iris, rushing or hiding as she normally was while inside.

 The look of bewilderment wasn’t even enough to dampen her happy mood or expression, letting the woman step into her warm apartment as her smile remained. The fatigue of the morning had faded, leaving her to thrum with energy as she routinely put her groceries away before moving over to the small bookshelf that held some of the textbooks she liked to read slowly. Because of the lack of sleep from having run from Barry, she hadn’t even been able to find the interest to pick them up let alone take the time to read them.

 Singing softly beneath her breath, Iris placed the book on the counter and began the process of making a tea. The coffee she’d purchased was calling her name, but it was already too late in the day for her to submit to that desire otherwise she would be awake the entire night. Having met her soulmate assured her that she would be sleeping better, but it would be for naught if she drank a cup of caffeine.

 Once her tea was finished, Iris pushed her pillows up against the headboard of her bed and shuffled around a moment to get comfortable. Just as she was about to crack open the history book she’d steadily been going through, her cellphone pinged from the nightstand to her left. Stretching over to retrieve it, the small notification of a new email made her blink in confusion and tap on the little icon.

 At the top of her email list, Barry was written in bold in the subject line, signalling it as unread. Iris’s lips twitched with a repressed smile as she quickly selected the email and waited as patiently as she could for the page to load. Barry had given her his email instead of a cellphone number, explaining that it was easier for each of the personalities to have a personal email account rather than a cellphone for each of them. They had one main phone that was registered in Kevin’s name, mostly used as a means of emailing rather than texting or calling.

 Immediately, the first sentence made her laugh once the page had loaded.

 Luke won’t shut up. He only got home a few minutes ago and I think at least one person is debating on smothering him with a pillow. I hope he wasn’t too energetic; he’s always been a bit more on the rowdy side. I am glad that he didn’t let you walk home in the rain, though.

 Iris found herself smiling as she read along, the happiness that came with the simple method of communication surprising her. There were few things that could brighten her mood so easily, so this was yet another thing about the soulmarks that were changing her life very suddenly, and very drastically.

 I’m real glad that you got to meet him, though. Luke would do just about anything for someone if they asked. And you, Iris, deserve only the best.

 I’ll talk to you again soon; have a nice day off tomorrow!

 -Barry

 Iris licked at her lips nervously while leaning back into her pillows comfortably, tapping on the reply icon and staring at the blank page in thought. She had no idea whether she was supposed to answer back about Luke or not, since Barry had assured her that he wouldn’t tell the others anything personal that she had told him unless it was what she wanted. He wanted her to tell them only when she was ready, just like what she had done with him.

 Was talking about her time with Luke appropriate when she was speaking with another soulmate?

 Sighing softly, she decided that pushing aside her second-thoughts and overthinking had worked for her so far, so she could continue to do so.

 Good evening, Barry. I hope he’s not getting on everyone’s nerves too badly; although, he did seem quite excited about bragging rights. I think it was his way of getting back for having to do the groceries—which, by the way, you might want to hide some of because there was an awful lot of sugar in that cart.

 Please thank him again for me about the ride home, I definitely would not have enjoyed walking through that storm, even if it’s only a few blocks. If you guys keep this up, you’re going to spoil me.

 I promise I’ll enjoy my day off. Have a great shift, and get a good night’s sleep!

 -Iris

 Hitting send before she could let doubt creep in, Iris released the breath that she had been holding as she reread her message for any errors. Her phone alerted her that her message had been sent and she let herself drop the phone onto the mattress and turn away from it, knowing that there was no going back. There was no reason for her to second-guess the message; it was simple, friendly, and polite.

 Retrieving the book she had put aside, Iris allowed herself to relax into the pillows again as the happiness from meeting Luke was joined with the content feeling of having heard from Barry.

 Barry’s expression was soft as he read Iris reply, his footsteps carrying him to the kitchen as he moved the email into his ‘Iris’ file, wanting to keep her messages private from the rest of his work/Fletcher related emails. Entering the kitchen with a smile as he slipped the phone into the back pocket of his pants, he moved over to one cabinet that usually housed their snacks and let out a laugh when he was faced with a shelf full of chocolate, chips, and other assorted candies.

 “Luke, you suck at this, man,” he mumbled to himself and began taking some of the packages out. He’d have to hide them temporarily and let Patricia know, she’d be a lot better at hiding them than him. A ping on his phone drew him to pause, however, and he immediately drew it out to see if Iris had perhaps sent him another email after the first.

 Instead, Dr. Fletcher’s name in the subject line relaxed his excitement as he selected the unopened email, reading over the simple message that she had sent, hoping him and Iris well and confirming that he was going to show up for their next session. She also asked if he would like for her to invite Iris over for another meeting with her; she was offering to better explain D.I.D to her.

 Barry leaned against the counter as he looked down at the phone, contemplating whether or not he wanted for her to learn about their disorder from another person.

 However, that was not up to him. Iris was a smart woman, she was probably already researching about the disorder on the internet. Typing back a quick response that said it was up to Iris, not him, he returned to his original task of hiding the sweets before Hedwig took the light and binged on them for the better part of the evening.

 Heading for his room afterword, he made sure to set his alarm to be awake in time for work, Barry settled down at his desk as he pulled one of his larger sketchbooks over to him. This one in particular he always kept away from the others, and never showed to Fletcher.  It was his personal sketchbook, one that housed the faces of the alters, or the animals that he drew at the zoo. This sketchbook didn’t have any of the dresses or other articles of clothing that he normally drew.

 Flipping to a fresh page, the previous one housing a drawing of the tiger that he had done from the zoo, Barry pulled his tin of pencils closer to him and selected a simple 2H. It would be easier for him if there was a picture or the real thing to look at, but there was still a strong image of her in his mind. And Luke, too, had seen her. Somehow, that seemed to strengthen the memory of her.

 Beginning with the outline, basic shapes of her hair and face; he made sure to get the correct angle of her cheekbones and the deep set of her eyes. He almost wanted to rush through the prep-work, just so he could get into the details of her eyes, her hair, her lips. He wanted to begin giving her true justice, but to rush through the beginning stages would hinder his work on the overall portrait.

 He used the memory of her from their morning, smiling to him as she sat beside him while they were eating breakfast. Her hair had been slightly mussed from sleep, yet to be brushed, and the shadows from lack of sleep had lessoned drastically from the one solid night.

 Once he was certain that he had gotten all of her angles correct, he pulled out a B pencil and began to work on the shading instead. Iris’s eyes were the first thing that he started to work on, filling in the soft shadows around her eyes from how deeply set they were, darkening the crease from her eyes being open, and starting along the line of her eyelashes.

 Starting from those mesmerizing eyes, she was beginning to come to life on the page.

 If they weren’t so new to one another, he’d have asked her if he could take her picture before he’d left.

 Barry wasn’t sure for how long he worked, but it was well past midnight when he finally put the last of his pencils back into the metal case from which he had gotten them. Iris’s portrait was finished, her timid smile just as he remembered, when Barry finally leaned back and propped the sketchbook up to get a proper look at it.

 Smiling in satisfaction, he wondered briefly if he should use her as a model for his later drawings. She didn’t have to wear the clothes, but he could design them in a way that they would fit someone of her tiny frame.

 Her thin arms and delicate joints were attractive in the proper clothing. It broke his heart to see her wearing the baggy, oversized clothes that hid her marks—and her form. She was left to swim in the clothing that she wore, hanging past her hands and draping at her shoulders. He’d only seen her in a few different outfits, the first time having been obscured by her coat, and he remembered that her shirts and sweaters almost always went down to mid-thigh.

 It made him wish he could see her in high pants, accentuating her thin waist, and a tucked in blouse that would show off her arms—which were not nearly as weak as they appeared.

 Selecting a piece of tracing people, Barry tucked it gently between the pages and covered over the drawing he had just done. He didn’t want it smudging from closing and opening the book, and he was fresh out of fixative spray that would prevent any damage from touch. He didn’t want to tarnish the drawing of her, if only because it was Iris, not some random woman that he had decided he wanted to draw because of their attractive bone structure.

 Iris’s bone structure put everyone else’s to shame, of course.

 Tucking the sketchbook back into place on the shelf, he sighed softly when he glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. He couldn’t bring himself to regret staying up to finish her drawing, but he knew that it was going to come back to bite him in the ass when he had to get ready for work in the morning. As much as he’d rather sleep in, enjoying a fitful sleep for the first time in a week, he knew he’d have to get out of bed when the alarm went off.

 And then, after his shift was over, the light would be passed to someone else for the rest of the evening. He wasn’t sure who, yet, but he knew that he couldn’t keep denying Dennis and Patricia for much longer. He’d kept them from the light for the past two months after they’d convinced Hedwig of the fictional being they had created, and he could tell they were starting to get antsy to be back in the light.

 He figured they must have learned their lesson, since they hadn’t mentioned the Beast to anyone since Barry had reprimanded them for putting such beliefs in a child’s head. And Hedwig, desperate for the approval of the others, had lapped up their stories like a sponge.

 Dr. Fletcher had gotten Hedwig to draw the Beast after he had rushed into an explanation of it. Barry had mentioned his concern in the previous session, so when Hedwig went in for the next one she had immediately begun the slow, delicate process of calming him and coaxing out the information that they sought. Barry’s main concern was that Hedwig was growing closer to Patricia and Dennis, especially after their tales of the Beast subtly scaring the boy into favouring them, and Hedwig was the only identity in Kevin’s body that was capable of stealing the light from Barry whenever he wanted.

 Hedwig had never disobeyed Barry before Patricia’s whispered stories, her quiet promises of protection from the Beast, of praise for his work when he went against Barry.

 They had not been rewarded for their behaviour, and Barry only hoped that the problem was now behind them. As much as he appreciated what Dennis had been able to do for Kevin when he was younger, taking over to make sure that everything was where it should be and hopefully protect them from a punishing beating, he did not know what to do with the man that Dennis was becoming.

 Sighing softly as he began the routine process of changing into his clothes for the night, Barry tried to push the concerns from his mind.

 They had met Iris now, and he only hoped that having her around meant that they would stay on their best behaviour in order to be able to meet her. She was someone who was delicate and sweet, too fragile for stories about a Beast that lived in the train yard. It was his greatest hope that Iris could draw them back to the peaceful, safe memories they had made together—leaving behind the nightmarish tales of the Beast.

 She needed them to be safe, to be loved and welcomed with absolute devotion. They could not offer devotion to something else and their soulmate, as they were meant to do.

Previous || Next

[since0202]

Chapter 4

Bella hadn’t really gained consciousness the night she was found. She was in and out in a state of stable delirium. Charlie had carried her upstairs with some effort and laid her on the bed, pulling her muddy shoes off. Grace gently pulled away her raincoat and hung it up behind the door. Charlie sat on the edge of her bed and rested a hand on her side, pain etched all over his face. 

“Charlie,” Grace said barely above a whisper. “Let me get her out of the rest of the wet clothes so we can get her warm. She’s okay.” Grace put a hand on his shoulder and he closed his eyes tightly nodding his head. He picked himself up and walked slowly out the room, turning to take another pained look at Bella before he closed the door behind him. 

Grace carefully got Bella changed into warm clothes and even socked her feet in the cozy fuzzy socks Grace’s mom got her for Christmas. She covered her up and settled in next to her, placing an arm around her and listening for her constant breathing. 

“What happened?” she whispered into the dark to no one in particular. 

October 

Grace was sitting at the small three-seater kitchen table and chewing her toast methodically as she reread another section from Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man for her AP English midterm that morning. Charlie shuffled through the newspaper, his eyes darting toward the staircase every now and then. 

“She’s coming, don’t worry.” Grace mumbled between her toast without looking up from her book. Charlie squirmed uncomfortably. 

The last three weeks had not been great for anyone. Bella had collapsed in on herself and hadn’t been to school since the incident. She hadn’t been taking meals or showers and would hardly get out of a bed. Grace would quietly shuffle into their room throughout the day and plop on Bella’s bed with a plate of food. Sometimes Bella would respond after Grace patiently waited for sometimes an hour, and sometimes Bella would fall back asleep. 

The nightmares were the worst. Almost every night, Grace was startled awake, her heart crashing through her chest and hurtling over her bed to get to Bella’s. It sounded like a dying animal, like someone was twisting a hot knife in Bella’s stomach. Grace could normally calm her before Charlie hurried into the doorframe. After three weeks of this though, Grace would normally find herself waking up in Bella’s bed, an arm wrapped around her, after falling asleep next to her to calm her. 

But after almost a month of Bella confined to her bed, Charlie put his foot down and told Bella she had to get back to her life. Grace agreed, holding her hand and nodding sympathetically. Bella had agreed reluctantly, that far away look permanently etched in her eyes. And that morning, as Grace poured over her book and Charlie cleared his throat for the umpteenth time, Bella finally stumbled down the stairs, gave a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and nodded toward the door.

Without looking up, Grace closed her book and headed toward the door, running a hand down Bella’s arm reassuringly as she passed. 

Grace’s every day had become mechanical as she cared for Bella and kept Charlie on track. She relished in the work of caring for them a little bit, but found the exhaustion setting in as Bella finally poked back into the real world. She had never told Grace what had happened in the woods that night and now it felt too dangerous to ask. 

As they pulled into the school parking lot, Bella’s eyes gravitated toward the empty space that Edward’s car used to occupy. Her face darkened and she turned an ashen color. Grace glanced at the spot from her space behind the wheel and back over to Bella. 

“You can do this.” She gave a soft smile. “Ready?” Grace didn’t wait for an answer and pushed the door open after a couple of seconds and hiked her backpack over her shoulder. Bella took off toward her first class, head down, hood up, and circumvented the crowd. Grace watched after her and started heading toward the staircase when she heard a familiar shout across the parking lot. 

“Hey Grace!” She whipped around to see Jacob Black waving from the end of the sidewalk. She smiled and jogged over to meet him. 

“What are you doing here?” She breathed out a puff of steam, indicative of the chilly autumn air that had started to settle over the greater Washington area. 

Standing in front of Jacob, Grace realized that he now towered over her. She’d only seen him a month ago but the difference was jarring. His shoulders had broadened and his face had sharpened around the edges. His hair was still the same long sheath of black that he ritualistically pulled back out of his face in a half bun, but he still retained an aura of softness. His bright white smile gleamed out from his warm face, a reflex she thought. 

“I heard Bella’s not been having an easy time since…” he hesitated and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well you know. So I brought something that might help. Will you give it to her for me?” Grace’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“Sure what is it?” 

From the depths of his pockets, he pulled out a small dream catcher and held it up in front of Grace’s face. Grace looked upon it with sad wonder and watched the blue and green stones shine in the light. 

“It catches bad dreams.” Jacob stated nonchalantly and gave a small shrug.Grace reached her hand up and took it from his gently, her fingers brushing his ever so slightly. A hot white flash pulsed up at her hand and she glanced up quickly at Jacob to see if he noticed. His face was set as he watched her examine the dream catcher. 

“This is actually perfect. Thanks,” she smiled and carefully stowed it in her backpack. “I’ll get it to her.” 

“Cool, thanks.” Jacob took a step back from Grace and she immediately felt a draft of cold air push between them. She fought against a shiver rising up her back. “Anyway, if you need a break from the pale faces, you’re always welcome to stop by...hang out. Just to get away,” Grace searched his face but it was genuine and welcoming. “If you want.” 

“Thanks, I might just take you up on that.” While returning to the rez didn’t seem like the most exciting idea to her at the moment, she did need a breather from the never ending painfest in the Swan house. 

Jacob gave her an awkward nod and then turned and took off down the road toward his car. The bell had long ago rang and Grace had never heard it. Only once Jacob had cleared her immediate area did she realize that the lawn in front of the school was silent and a soft drizzle misted around her. She took one last look as Jacob climbed into his car and she bolted for her first class, unsure of how late she actually was. 

November

Bella had resumed her job at the Newton’s outdoor store. Grace had taken up a side gig running groceries to the elderly on her weekends to make some gas money and pad her fund for college. 

As the seasons changed, Bella seemed to sink further into herself. Sometimes Grace would find her just sitting and staring off into space for hours. Grace couldn’t seem to shake her from her comatose state sometime, so she thought it best to leave her be for now. 

On one particularly sunny November afternoon, Grace was tasked with running a set of groceries to a couple in La Push. This was odd because most patrons of the Forks grocery store were local, but this couple was close to the edge of the rez. After she dropped off the groceries and gave a warm goodbye to the couple, Grace was buoyed with a moment of happiness. 

This was her first foray onto the rez and she felt just fine. No earth shattering, stomach dropping, blackout inducing, cold sweats and pain. She was suddenly shot through with a desire to test this newfound feeling deeper onto the rez. 

Grace winded her way through the damp and leaf covered streets toward the only house she thought she could bear. As she pulled into the familiar dirt driveway, her truck announced her presence. 

She hopped down from the truck, taking in a deep breath of autumn air and letting the coolness wash over her. This was easy. She could do this. Why had she been so scared? 

“Grace!” Jacob was wiping a tool off with a oil-dirtied rag and was frozen for just a moment in the entrance of the small garage before he tossed it to the side and took off for her, the smile stretching across his whole face so hard that she thought she might burst with excitement. 

When he didn’t stop running toward her, Grace couldn’t help but let a laugh escape as he scooped her up in a warm, tight hug and spun her around. She held on just as tightly back and felt the feeling of home pulse through her. Her heart quickened and she took another deep breath as he held her for a second before setting her down. The energy wafting between them was natural, electric, and the world seemed to quiet around them temporarily. 

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t surprised by Jacob’s reaction. They’d only seen each other a handful of times since she’d moved here in the summer, but it’s like they fell into step, or like a  magnet appeared that kept them together once they were near enough. 

“It’s so good to see you.” he beamed. 

“You too! You said I should stop by and I was in the area dropping off some groceries to the Tallutes, so here I am.” Grace realized now that she had no idea what she was doing here. She hadn’t really thought about it, it just felt like the truck carried her here. 

“Well, I was just working on the rabbit in the garage, do you wanna come in and hang out?” Leave it to Jacob to make things feel effortless. She let out an easy sigh and nodded vigorously, following him into the garage. 

While she watched him work and handed him the odd tool every now and then, they settled into easy conversation. They talked about school, the rez politics, Bella, how Grace was feeling in Forks now that she felt more settled, her plans for college, and his plans for opening a garage one day. Nothing felt too hard, even when she started talking about her dad, unprompted. Jacob had slid out from under the car and sat on the low rolling stool in front of her to give his undivided attention while she talked about how different it was being back on the rez without him, seeing as she had left here with him, but that the pain hadn’t come over her like she thought it would. He watched her face for a long time as she spoke.

When it got too dark for Jake to continue working and when Grace thought it might be time to head back so as not to worry Charlie. They made their way out from the garage side by side, laughing, Grace bumping her shoulder into Jake’s arm as they walked. They heard the sound of car doors slamming and looked up in time to see Billy and Harry Clearwater emerge under the patio light. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to make it out to the rez,” Billy crossed his arms over his lap as a gentle smile grew across his face. 

“Good to see you Billy, Harry,” Grace nodded at them both, the tension somewhat returning in her body. Billy seemed genuinely happy to see her and Jake standing next to her kept her feeling warm. 

“Is that little Grace Alo?!” Harry beamed and drew her into a tight hug, “It’s good to see you little one.” Grace muffled a greeting of hello and once released retreated back to Jacob’s side. He looked down and laughed a little at her. 

“You should join us, there’s a tribal gathering next Friday. A lot of familiar faces will be there and would love to see you.” Harry suggested. 

Grace froze. Billy looked at her expectantly. She glanced up at Jacob. 

“Uuuuuh,” her mouth hung open in uncertainty, but Jacob shrugged and gave her a little nod and she looked back to Harry, “Sure, why not?” Inside her head, she was screaming. This was going to be too much for sure, why had she agreed to this? 

She could feel her heartbeat rocket as Harry smiled and clasped his hands together in excitement. Billy nodded graciously and turned his chair to wheel up the ramp. 

Grace internally crumbled as she ambled the rest of the way toward the truck. Jake pulled open the driver side door and she climbed in before he shut it behind her. He rested his forearms across the open window and looked up at her, 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just not sure I can actually make it next week.” the pained look returned to Grace’s face. 

“It’ll be fine. You should come over here and we’ll walk there together. Sound good?” Grace gave a small moan of uncertainty and he leaned back from the window and smacked it with his hands. “Good! Love the enthusiasm.” 

She started the key in the ignition and shook her head laughing some. 

“Be careful driving home, the wolves are out.” Jacob looked up at the protruding full moon making it’s way up over the treeline. 

She laughed and nodded, “I will. Thanks Jake...and thanks for today.” 

“Anytime… hey do me a favor and give me a call when you get in. Just so I know you haven’t been whisked off into the woods somewhere.”

She nodded and pulled out of the drive, letting the lights wash over his broad frame. This was the best she’d felt in years and all it took was one drive to the reservation and a day spent in the garage with someone who was suddenly becoming her best friend. 

As she drove her way back to Forks, she ducked her head to see out the windshield and look up at the moon. It was so bright but it cast odd shadows on the trees that made her second guess what Jacob had said about the wolves. 

When she reached home, she hurried inside and picked up the receiver in the kitchen, quickly dialing the number she remembered from her childhood. It took two quick rings before she heard a: “Grace?” on the other end. 

She couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, it’s me. I just got in. Unscathed.” 

“Glad to hear it. No wolves I take it?” 

“None that could tempt me.” 

“Alright then, little red riding hood.” 

She laughed a little too loud and heard Charlie’s snores cease and shuffling. 

“Oops, I woke Charlie. Gotta go.” 

“See you soon, red.” She could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.