#over the last week the doodle i made like. five? years ago has been suddenly reblogged a bunch

[hot-wire-this-old-car]

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[thewildomega]

Second Chance Ch.12

Looking up at the giant ship with the blue whale as the figure head you tilted your own head. Ed had told you that his own main ship had been sunken during the war so you guessed this was one of his other ones. Seeing how big this one was made you wonder how large the actual Moby Dick had been. It seemed to be made up of mid-colored wood with the white and navy blue trim. The many sails were up since it was docked but the Whitebeard flag flew proudly at the top of the mast. Seeing all the ropes and stuff you could only imagine how many people it took to run a ship like this even more so with the paddlewheels on the back. Swinging your feet you looked back down to the drawing you had made of the ship. Humming along to the music as you added in details and such.

"Of course, why would she sit where it was safe..." he grumbled to himself as he finally caught sight of the woman who held his heart. Looking out to where she sat on he sighed. Somehow or another she had managed to get herself out onto one of the larger rocks in the sea that was the closest to the whaleship. She was just sitting there, her feet swinging idly and doing something that he couldn't really make out. "Y/n!" he called but she wouldn't look his way. Trying twice more she still didn't hear him. He wondered if the waves crashing against the rocks were the cause of it. Sighing out he started to jump across the rocks towards her. Finally getting to the one she was on he moved to stand right behind her, looking down to see she had her headphones in. 'Well that explained her not hearing him.' Seeing something in her lap he leaned forward some and peeked over her shoulder.

A sudden shadow coming over you made you knit your brows and look up to the sky, was it clouding up? Seeing a face you let out a yelp and lost hold of your book. Panicking when you thought it would fall into the water you saw a large hand come out to grab it just in time and sighed. Snatching your headphones from your ears you turned around to give him a small glare. "Stop sneaking up on me." you scowlded, smacking one of his large legs that was beside you.

Huffing out in amusement he smirked and looked down at her, noticing that when she was sitting she only came up to his knee. "You're the one that makes it so easy darling." When she stuck her tongue out at him in reply he chuckled and lifted her notebook. "What were you doing out here anyway?

Seeing him go to look through your notebook you quickly stood and moved to take it from him. "Just doodling and stuff."

Holding it out of her reach when he saw the slight blush on her cheeks he grinned. "Doodling what lass?"

"Just little things, now give it back." you grunted. Wrapping your arms around his large biceps you attempted to haul yourself up or pull his arm down but neither happened as he just held you in the air like you weighed nothing more than a bag of flour.

"I want to see what some of the other dreams are on your list." he smiled.

"No." Jumping up to try and grab it he only held it above his head, even further out of your reach.

Humming he rose one of his brows, "Why not?"

"B..because there mostly stupid things... most of them are places back in my world I wanted to see."

"A person's dreams are never stupid. Most may be places but not all so I'm still curious." Seeing her go to try and grab it again he moved out of the way and jumped to the next rock then the next and back towards shore.

"Edward Newgate! You give me back my notebook right now or so help me I will kick your old ass!" you yelled as you picked up your phone and headphones, jumping after him at a slower pace than he was going. Hearing his loud laugh you narrowed your eyes and growled. By the time you got back to shore he was gone and you were trying to figure out which way he went. "So much for acting your age." you grumbled. Feeling a pull in your chest you decided to follow it and ran as fast as you could.

He had been running for a short time before he slowed down into a walk, moving towards the small patch of trees and shrubs to hide behind. Sitting down in the grass he opened the small notebook up to the first page to see a quote,

A ship in port is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. Sail out to sea and do new things. ~Grace Hopper

Smiling at that he flipped through the first couple dozen pages to see small things written out, lists of things she needed to do with some things crossed off, recipes, dates to remember, a list of books. Opening the book to the next page he felt this one heavier than the other and opened it to see a small picture taped sideways to the page. Turning the book so he could see it better he saw it was a picture of a man and woman with five small children sitting all around them. Knitting his brows he looked to the couple and noticed they looked a lot like y/n. The picture looked a little old and he noticed it had a few blotches here and there. Looking back to the family he frowned, were they her parents? She said she didn't know where they were, that she hadn't ever met them, had she lied to him? Feeling the next page heavy as well he turned it and saw a pressed daffodil, written at the bottom was 'Ed'. She had wanted to remember the flowers he had given her. A few more little things went on for a while again until he came to a sketch. A sketch of the whaleship. She had done a pretty good job of drawing the ship out, she had even drew his flag beneath it. Still hung up on the fact that she may had lied to him he only felt his lip lift up a little. Going to the next section in the back of the book he found what he had been looking for.

Bucket List

Meet my parents. (Almost illegible)

Climb a mountain.

Fly in a plane.

Ride on a ship.

Canno the Smith River.

Make a friend.

See a shooting star.

Visit the Grand Canyon.

See the Niagara falls.

See the ocean.

Jump off a waterfall.

Take an art class.

Read The Great Gatsby.

Watch Dances with Wolves without falling asleep.

Go on a date.

Find a four leaf clover.

Touch a cloud.

See a shark/dolphin.

Get my first kiss.

WHAT?! She has never been kissed?! They had almost... last week. Wait, if she has never even been kissed has she never... Swallowing hard he rubbed his face. He would have to come back to that.

Mean something to someone.

That made him frown, his brows furrowing down and his heart ache.

Be apart of a family.

Sighing he dropped his head. He knew what that felt like, knew what it was like to have no one. Going to lift his head up to read again he was knocked to the ground suddenly, letting out a small 'ooff' on the way.

"Ha! Got you!" you hummed. Grabbing hold of your notebook you went to pull it from his hand, "I'll take that thank you..." When he still didn't let go you groaned but didn't get time to protest anymore before a large arm wrapped around you and pulled you to the ground beside him. "Eddddd." you whined. Trying to wiggle out of his hold to no avail you looked to see his face serious.

Laying beside her he held her still as he flipped to the page with the picture on it. He had to know, had to know if she had lied to him. "Who is this?" He asked in a firm voice. Seeing her face fall and her eyes quickly look away from the picture he frowned. "Are they your parents?"

"Yes." you whispered.

"You told me you had never met them." he said confused. He didn't want to seem angry at her but he also didn't like the idea of that she had lied to him either.

Hearing how deep his voice was you knit your brows, "I.. I haven't."

"Then how did you get their picture?" Seeing her frame curl inward some he took a deep breath, he would get nothing out of her if he didn't calm down. "I don't mean to sound angry lass I just... I don't understand."

Glancing back to the picture you felt a lump in your throat grow but quickly swallowed it down. "I looked them up..." when he knit his brows you licked your lips. "Remember that thing I was using, my laptop. I told you about the internet and how it had all this information on it." Seeing him nod you looked to him, "Well a few years ago I got up the courage to look up my parents. I didn't know anything but their names but after a while I managed to track them down. I don't know where they are exactly, just a general location. Anyways I saw that picture there and I got so happy, they were still together and I had brothers and sisters. I sent them a message telling them who I was and how I wanted to meet them, I told them how long I had been hoping to find them." Stopping to get ahold of your emotions you looked away from him, "It took a few days and I remember losing hope but then when I got home one night I had a message from them, my mother." taking a deep breath you looked down to his blond hair that was laying across his arm and onto yours some. "She told me that she was sorry but they had moved on from that time in their lives. They had started a new life with their children and they didn't want me to intrude on that. They apparently hadn't told any of my siblings about me and never wanted them to know. She said that if I really cared about them I would be happy for them and respect their wishes, that I would never try to contact them or anyone else in that family again." Feeling your lip try to tremble you bit down on it. "I printed out their picture because... well I don't really know why..." you huffed sadly. "I guess because even if they could forget me, that that didn't mean I could forget them."

He felt like such an asshole. She hadn't lied to him, she had never lied to him. She just didn't want to be reminded of more pain. His own parents had died, he hadn't been orphaned by choice, she had. He couldn't imagine ever doing that to a child. To make them feel what his lass felt, unwanted, even by her parents. The thought alone angered him and he wished he was back in her world just so he could hunt down all of the people that had ever hurt his darling.

Sniffling you took a deep breath and grabbed the book from him, closing it. Looking up into his warm yellow eyes you slowly felt your pain go away and a sense of ease come over you. Wanting to break this sad moment you grinned a little and stood, feeling his arm loosen to allow it this time. Stepping over him you looked down his wide, toned back and hummed, swinging your foot you turned it and kicked him square in his no doubt muscled ass.

Feeling her kick him, not hard enough to actually hurt but hard enough that he could feel it he felt his eyes go wide and snapped his eyes up to her. "Wha.."

"I told you I was going to kick your old ass." you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You sure you want to challenge Whitebeard darling?"

"Won't be much of a challenge with you loosing and all..." When the great Capitan only narrowed his eyes, a playful but dangerous look coming over his face you smiled and quickly ran for it. Only getting a few meters away before a light tremor shook the ground and put you off balance. Going to fall you were swept up and tossed over the massive man's shoulder like a bag of rice.

"What was that about me loosing?" He asked with a smirk.

"I was talking about swimming." you giggled but only heard him hum before laughing.

.........................

"What are you looking at hun?" Zella asked her husband who was looking down towards the valley with a soft smile on his face.

Chuckling lightly the phoenix smiled, "Nothing." Turning away from the playing man and woman by the trees, giving his pops some privacy.

............................................

Waking up suddenly he snapped his eyes open and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. Something felt off, knowing that usually that feeling meant something involving his soulmate he got up from bed and quietly walked from the room. Seeing the bathroom door open he knew she wasn't in there. Making his way across the living room he looked down to the couch and found it empty. Quickly looking to the kitchen and dining room he saw them both empty as well and felt his brows lower. Snapping his eyes to the door he saw it unlocked, she had left the house. With a deep breath he made his way out to find her, letting his heart guide him to her.

Having woke up covered in a cold sweat and panting for air you shakingly stood from where you were sleeping and hurried outside. You didn't exactly know where you were going you just knew you had to walk, had to get away to clear your mind. Before long you had made your way down to the beach and sank down to sit in the cool sand. Pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them you rested your chin on them and closed your eyes. Taking a deep breath you let it out in a long sigh. Thinking back to your dream you swallowed hard.

Sitting on the cold wooden floor in the middle of the dark room you breathed heavily and looked around, "Hello? Is anyone there?" No one answered at first and you licked your lips. Looking down you saw you wearing old threadbare clothes like the ones you wore when you were living on the streets for those two years. Moving to push yourself up to stand you were suddenly struck across the left cheek and fell back to the floor, your hand flying up to your burning face.

"Despicable girl."

Snapping your eyes up to the familiar female voice you saw your grandmother standing there in her usual red dress, a deep scowl on her wrinkled face. Shaking your head a little you turned to move away from her when you were stuck again, this time the hand a little larger, rougher.

"Worthless."

Your grandfather, a look of distaste in his eyes as he looked down his nose at you.

"You should have never been born." your grandmother snapped.

"No one wants her, she's so ugly."

Seeing your great aunt had joined them you swallowed hard.

"What a waste of life." Your cousin spoke.

"Stupid."

"Loser."

"...going to grow up to be a common harlot, just like her mother."

"Unsightly."

"Useless."

One by one more people crowded around you, striking you and calling out insults. Everytime you tried to get up you were hit back down to the floor until soon you could do nothing but curl up into a ball, your hands over your ears and your eyes shut tight as you tried to drown out what they were saying. When their voices got louder you felt tears fill your eyes and you started to scream.

"They're right you know."

Gasping you heard all of the other voices stop and opened your eyes to see them all gone. Turning your head you looked around the dark room until you saw him. Watching as he crouched down in front of you you stared up into those yellow eyes. Something wasn't right, why did they look so cold? Swallowing hard you parted your lips to speak, "E..ed..."

"They're right."

Furrowing your brows you licked your dry, cracked lips and started to shake your head. Before you could speak he started laughing.

"Did you really think I would ever want you?"

That wasn't his normal laugh, wasn't the one you had heard so many times before, the one that made your heartbeat a little harder in your chest. Feeling tears well up in your eyes you blinked and felt them roll down your burning cheeks.

"You're so pathetic. No one wants you, you don't mean anything to anyone, especially me." he huffed.

Feeling the lump in your throat burn you let out a little sob.

"Why would I want someone as ugly as you by my side?"

"P..plea..sssse ssstop..." you cried. Feeling him curl his finger under your chin and lift your eyes to his you looked up at him through your tears.

"I will never love you."

It felt like someone had stuck a knife straight through your heart. Feeling his finger slip from you, you dropped your head to the wooden floor and curled up as tight as possible as sobs wracked your body. You heard his deep chuckle and then the sound of his boots walking away before you were left alone in the cold darkness.

Feeling something wet land on your cheek you opened your heavy eyes and stared out at the sea, the moon reflecting off of the dark surface. Curling up tighter if possible you sniffled, another tear rolling down. It felt so real, all of it. The clenching in your heart as well. As much as you hated it you couldn't help but wonder if this was a warning of some kind. There was no doubt in your mind that you were falling for Edward, never in your life had you felt this connection with anyone, this longing, this happiness. But what if it was all too good to be true? What if he didn't feel the same? Would he grow tired of you soon as well? Would he throw you away like everyone else had? Then you would be alone again. You didn't want to be alone anymore. You didn't want to hurt anymore.

Looking out to the moonlit shore he saw her and started walking forward. What the hell was she doing out here? It was the middle of the night and she was in nothing but his damn shirt. Getting closer he went to call out for her but stopped when he saw the shining tears rolling down her cheeks. He had only seen her cry that once, when he had stopped that man from raping her. Just the sight alone made his heart ache. She looked so fragile to him in that moment with her body curled up as tight as she could, clad only in his button up shirt that was too big on her. Her hair was blowing wildly around her with tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't look hurt to him, not physically but she was hurting that much was clear. Slowly walking over to her he saw her glossy eyes stay on the dark sea before snapping to him once he got close enough.

"E..ed..." your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. Quickly remembering that you were crying you looked away when you saw him looking down at you with concern clear on his face. Wiping at your cheeks and eyes you mentally started cursing yourself for no doubt looking so incredibly pathetic. Here you were crying on the beach in the middle of the night, STUPID!

Not saying anything at first he crouched down beside her, placing his hand on her back. Hearing her start apologizing for waking him and telling him to go back to his home in a soft, saddened voice he furrowed his brows. When she still refused to look at him he tilted his head. "Lass, look at me."

His voice sounded so deep and low, you knew he wasn't asking. That was the voice of a captain giving an order, just maybe a little softer that he would have been with his crew. Screwing your eyes shut you tried to force away your previous emotions, not wanting to look weak.

"Y/n."

Swallowing hard at the way he said your name you slowly moved your eyes out from where you had hid them in your knees to look up at the giant of a man. You thought he might be angry, that he might be annoyed but that wasn't the case. Those weren't the cold eyes from your dream, those were warm and kind and caring. Just one look made you feel so much, his touch, his smell, his... everything. Never before had you felt so alive than you did when you were with him. How could one man, one person cause so many feelings inside of you? He made you want to smile, want to laugh and cry and... love. You loved him. YOU LOVED HIM! It was like someone had hit you with a ton of bricks and all too soon you were crying again. No, no you couldn't love him because if you loved him there was no going back. If you loved him and he didn't love you then it would break you. If you loved him and he tossed you away then it would kill you. Oh God it hurt, just the thought alone hurt, it hurt so bad.

Seeing her start crying again, her body curling up and her fingers dig into her arm he felt his heart throb. "What's wrong? Y/n, darling tell me what's wrong." he spoke in a deep voice, kneeling down to place both of his hands on her, trying to comfort her.

His touch was like a warm blanket and his voice a light shining at you from the darkness. "I'mmm afffraid." you cried without looking up at him. There were so many emotions hitting you all at once. Shame, embarrassment, fear, uncertainty, sure, delightled, doubtful...love."

Afraid. First thing that popped in his head was him, was she afraid of him? Many people were. He was sure he had never given her reason to be though, he was careful around her. "Of what, afraid of what?" She didn't answer him for sometime and he feared it was him but then she spoke one quiet word that made it all clear.

"Feeling."

He knew her past, knew what she had been through. The past was hard, it was for most and some never recovered from things that happened to them. It could make people bitter, angry and afraid. His lass had been hurt time and time again. She had been tossed aside, given away and never given the chance to develop any real relationships in her life. Everyone she had ever trusted had hurt her and so she had shut herself off. She didn't have any friends, didn't try and make friends because she was scared of being hurt again. Now though he assumed she was feeling the same thing as him and that scared her. Taking a deep breath he gently lifted her up into his arms, feeling her not even fight him. Holding her close he dipped his head down and closed his eyes, "I know you've been hurt before and this scares you but Y/n you have my word that I will never make you feel what they did. I will never leave you. I will never hurt you." he promised her in a low, deep voice.

You wanted to believe him, you really, really did but you were still afraid. Still unsure. People had made you promises before and never kept them, were his just empty words as well. Would he grow tired of you or change his mind?

Feeling her body remain tense he turned his face to her head, touching his lips and chin to her forehead. Letting out a sigh he stroked her thigh with his thumb. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid lass. Just means I'm going to have to work on making those fears go away. I'm going to spend the the rest of my days proving to you how wonderful you truly are."

"Wwwhy? Why would you... why do you c...care?" you asked in a broken cry.

Smiling he breathed in the scent of her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. "Because lass, I love you."

Gasping you opened your eyes, looking at the skin over his hard chest, feeling his heart thumping in your ear. A tear rolled down your cheek at his confession, the words you never thought you would hear anyone say to you. "Yo....uuu...mmmee?"

"Need me to say it again darling? I'll tell you everyday." he grinned. "I love you."

Fresh tears poured form your eyes but these were not from the sadness or loneliness you were so accustomed to crying about, no for the first time in your life, these were tears of pure joy.

He hadn't been expecting her arms to wrap around his neck, nor her face to nuzzle into his neck as she cried but he wouldn't complain.  Wrapping his own arms around her he hugged her as tight as he could without crushing her.

Swallowing thickly you felt a burst of courage come over you and smiled, you couldn't exactly leave him hanging."I love you."

Smiling from ear to ear he turned his face to press a kiss to her head. "You really do know how to make this old man feel young again lass." he chuckled and heard her hum softly.  When she nuzzled into his neck more, her arms still latched onto him with no signs of letting go he grinned and stood, holding her to him with one arm under her ass and the other over her back. Walking back to his home he carried her inside and locked the door. Passing by the couch he felt her head perk up some and grinned but said nothing as he walked back to his room... their room.

"Ed..."

"No more sleeping on the damn couch." he told her in a firm voice, moving into the dark room and over to the bed. Laying her down on the side closest to the wall he got in beside her and pulled the covers over the both of them. He could tell she was a little apprehensive so he got comfortable on his side, facing her, gently pushing her down to lay beside him. "Go ta sleep darling." he told her in a gentle voice.

With his arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest you slowly relaxed, letting out a sigh. Closing your eyes you listened to the sound of his beating heart, felt the warmth of his body seep into yours.

Listening as her breathing turned deep, her body going limp against him he grinned softly. Placing a gentle kiss to her temple he felt her face nuzzle into his chest. "Goodnight my darlin'."

[captainsuke]

Yusuf should be asleep, he should be wrapped around his husband's body, taking strength from the warmth he's never quite felt anywhere else.

Instead he's in the kitchen, the cool metal grip on his pistol warmed by his hand wrapped white knuckled around it.

He'd heard a noise.

He'd dreamed he'd heard a noise.

It doesn't matter. It's late and the little cottage they are currently calling home is empty, except for his sleeping husband, and Joe, standing vigil in the dark.

(rest of fic under the cut for all you ao3 haters)

There's a small gap between window and wall, and the wind flows through it with a whispering wail. Once all houses creaked and swayed and whistled with the wind, little leaks with pots that were emptied in the morning, a row of fine dust along the window sills and under the doors gifted from a night of wild wind. Now these things are considered nuisances, problems to be torn down and rebuilt new and unremarkable. His heart feels heavy tonight, the feeling of long years catching up on him and curling it's fingers around his soul.

Joe looks out the window of his and Nicky's little Maltese cottage, the moon shines bright enough behind shifting clouds that even the slivers of light allow Joe to see the branches of the apple tree in the front garden sway with the cool night's breeze. Many summers ago they'd laid in the shade of that tree, eating the sweetly tart fruit until they'd made themselves sick. He has a sketch - or eight - of the passing shadows dappling Nicky's face as he'd laid back, full and content.

A memory stacked upon another memory from the days they'd done the same with Andromache, years and years ago, four, five hundred years ago, filling their bellies with overripe apricots after several long hard years of fighting and barely being able to tell if they had even made a difference, let alone actually helped anyone. Even now Joe can close his eyes and see Qýuhn's hair blowing free in the cooling winds coming up along the Peloponnese peninsula. Andromache's fingers sticky with pasteli, her cheeks rosy where she laid them on Qýuhn's thigh. Nicolò, sunbleached and glowing in the golden of light of a Mediterranean sunset.

He remembers retelling the apple story when they'd all met up again, Booker with his ever present flask, Andy sharing long drinks from it, all them tired but smiling, leaning heavily of the heavenly taste of crisp apples and the folly of gorging on enough fresh fruit to upset their stomachs. Because it made Booker laugh. Because it gave them all something to laugh about, to distract themselves from the weather turning and Sèbastien's eyes growing cagey as the winter's teeth started to bite.

Nicky had stoked the cottage's fire til they'd been sweating in front of the tiny hearth, toasty and ridiculous in their undergarments, with thick woolen socks on their feet in respect for the wild weather that battered at the windows. He'd felt happy that they'd managed to turn that haunted look to smiling eyes that crinkled at the edges. Had that moment meant something? Anything? Nothing? Was the glow in his eyes merely momentary? A trick of light and the gleam of drunken eyes?

Would this be the rest of his days? Questioning every moment, desperately searching for where he went wrong, where he should have noticed Booker's pain. Looking for the moment that had been Sèbastien's last straw.

It's funny, Joe can joke, he can laugh, he can make vague reference and yell angry accusing words, he can recite a bit of original poem he's writing as he speaks, but he can't work out how to open his mouth and say the words why did you hurt me?

He's always horribly envied Nicky's ability to put his hurt away, to shelve it for later, or never if he feels it best. Even as he's pulled his hair out in frustration as his other half willfully tears himself to pieces in an effort to find a way to please everyone.

Oh, he knows they're both different shades of Not Dealing Well, both of them like a purpose to distract themselves.

Foolishly, stupidly, for a wild moment Joe wishes for someone else to try for them, to attack them, just so he can slip back into the head space of being a unit, a simple moving part in a machine much larger than himself, Nicky and him working hand in hand, two halves of a whole.

He desperately wishes for that feeling, for anything other than devastated, tearing, hating hurt that sits on his lungs like peine forte et dure, each time he feels like the worst of the pain has occurred he remembers some other occasion, some other memory now colored by betrayal.

He can forgive, he can sympathize, he can hold his brother close and cry for the losses he's suffered.

But anger stabs through at the thought of him not returning that empathy. Like he and all the kin before Booker haven't suffered days of death and nights of death. Day after day, month after month of unimaginable loss, not knowing how to stop it, how to help it, just enduring as time pass uncaring of the pain felt.

He's held Nicky as he begged for the end, for them to finally (please, please, please) be released from the unrelenting years of horrors, just as Nicky has pulled him close while he cried, screamed, wailed for even the slightest chance of reprieve. From the widow with dead eyes and fevered blush, burying her last child and going back to work at the sick houses, for the children with nothing – nothing - yet who could still muster a smile, for Nicky spitting blood, choking, drowning, dying, then coming back to do it all over again. Never ending and relentless.

This is stupid.

He is being stupid.

Awake in the middle of the night, stalking around their Malta house gun in hand, the most unnatural state of himself, but unable to rest, convinced that if he relaxed, if his guard dropped for a moment, he would lose it all.

He places the gun on the table, sits down, there's no peace or answers to be found in an old cottage kitchen by the sea at midnight.

All there is, is the long shadows of moonlight between furniture, the evening dishes neatly washed and drying on the sink, a glass full of pens on the table, Joe's gun now sitting atop Nicky's latest writing attempt. Never long, never complicated, Joe found himself devastated by each small letter his husband left for him, even the three thousand that merely read I love you ♥♥♥♥, he held each one to equal esteem, though Nicky barely seemed to remember writing them, he would just smile and say I was thinking of you.

you unmake me.

you remake me.

everyday

Doodled across cheap lined notepaper, tucked under his dinner plate. They'd shared that meal just a few hours ago, Nicky's eyes had been tired but he'd kissed Joe's curls with a soft smile as he'd served dinner.

A meal that had taken more than half the day to create because if Nicky had the time he found peace in simmering oil and tomatoes, in adding all the extra ingredients that might make an Italian swear but had delighted them so when they'd first tasted them, that now they'd add them to whatever meal they could.

It'd been less than a week and Nicky was already on first name basis with the halal butcher a few blocks away, and many a day they stroll the streets, collecting fresh produce from the little garden markets, stopping by Zakaria's so he could wrap the evening meal with a only my finest cut for my favorite customers and a wink, despite having claimed the same to the little Italian grandmother before them, blushing and waving her hands in a flustered, delighted stop motion.

Joe closes his eyes, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, like his heart would be beat out of his chest, fall out onto the floorboards that they'd sanded and placed lovingly when they'd first started rebuilding this little cottage. Nicky could live his life with just Yusuf and the sea and be happy, but Joe needed people, needed to see people living their lives no matter how mundane. No matter how out of sorts he's been since they arrived, exhausted and devastated from London, Nicky hadn't forgotten that.

And so Nicolò knows the butcher by name, and, in turn, Zakaria's fisherman boyfriend, who stocks the butcher shop with the freshest of catches and shies away from company, with deep sad eyes and ankle bones that jut out like he needs a Nonna to fuss over him.

And so he's befriended the old ladies from the markets who give him unsolicited advice on his roses, on his apple tree, on the lush green vine that flowers bright bursts of color, on how to keep That Nice Young Man He's Always With happy.

And so each of these people is a friend of Joe's as well.

Joe takes one last long look out the window. Daring anyone who might be out there to take the moment. To give him a reprieve from his thoughts.

But the apple trees branches are the only thing moving. Wind rustling leaves the only sounds to be heard over the soft ebbing crash of waves in the distance.

There's no respite to be found tonight, he thinks as he put his pistol away. Part of him aches to remain armed, to keep vigilant, because last time, last time, but he won't walk into their bedroom with a loaded gun in hand. Not tonight when he feels like his very soul has been twisted, not when he still feels as if unseen eyes are watching him.

As Joe closes the bedroom door behind him, eyes open slow but sharp, immediately awake, perhaps awake before Joe came in. His Nicky is a light sleeper, more prone to 3 or 4 hours sleep before waking alert and ready to face the living hours,.

Nicky's eyes go soft, the faintest of gentle smiles curling his lips as he focuses on Yusuf.

“Where are you, my love?” he asks with quiet rasping voice of someone newly woken.

He doesn't know, he feels adrift, but Nicky's hand moves, reaches out and Joe crosses the room to take it as the lifeline he needs.

“What do you need?” His voice is steady and calm and ready to promise anything in his power to Joe.

And Joe feels his heart constrict, he can't live without this man, he thinks wildly

(a flash, a dagger in the dark, Nicolò on the ground, a halo of his blood, his beautiful skull, his precious brains scattered across the floor without second thought)

he wants to know Andy's okay, he wants her and Nile here immediately so he can see for himself that they're safe, he wants Qýuhn in his arms so much it physically aches. He wants her dark humor and her sharp eyes. He wants to hear her screech like stepped on cat whenever something delighted her. He wants Booker snorting into his wine at some stupid joke, he wants to know he's alive, that he hasn't thrown himself into another stupid situation.

In the morning, he thinks, in the morning he'll speak to Nile, her occasional furtive texting isn't quite as secretive as she perhaps thinks but none of them had felt the need to tell her to stop.

In the morning, he can wait til morning to soothe the lies and worries that his anxiety haunts him with. Til then, he threads his hands tighter with Nicky's, lets him pull Joe to bed, lets him rearrange them til he's flat on his back with Joe's head is resting on his chest, Nicolò's heartbeat in his ear.

He keeps a hold of Joe's hand, brings it up to his lips, presses a kiss to where they're joined, then curls it close to Joe and his chest, as if shielding it against the rest of the world.

“You, just you.” Joe tells the darkness.

“You have me,” Nicolò says, his breath, his lips, his jaw moving against Joe's curls.

“What do you need?” He asks again, free hand coming to rest, cradling Joe's head, gently gently he feels fingers move lightly in tiny soft circles.

“Tell me something.”

Joe pulls their joined hands close, presses his own kiss against Nicky's long fingers, holds it close enough for his breath to warm skin “Please. Tell me something good.”

It's a hard ask, he knows, he knows, every good moment of their lives can be tied to a bad one, the past could be a minefield with no directions or signs. But Nicolò rarely shied from a challenge.

“Did I ever tell you of the time Qýuhn demanded to know my intentions with you?”

“But she loved you!” He mumbles against their joined hands.

“Yes she did, but she loved your heart just as fiercely.” Nicky's chest moves against Joe's cheek as he snorts, amused, “We'd had to have been intimate for almost a year by this time, but she had me feeling like a sham of a man standing before the most beautiful man's guardian, offering a pauper's dowery.”

Joe starts shifting to argue but the hand on his head keeps him still, gentle but firm.

“It was good. To be reminded that you had someone else who would fight for your happiness, that my love for you was visible enough to be challenged, a reminder that we both still had family even if it looked very different to what we'd been born with. It'd been nice to know no matter how much I felt I didn't deserve, I'd been ready to fight for the right to let that be your decision.”

“You do deserve me,” the gentle circles on his scalp are making him sleepy but he puts a token argument, the principle of no one was allowed talk shit about Nicky, not even Nicky, one he was always ready to defend.

“Hush, you asked for a story, this is my story.”

“Scusi, scusi,” he kisses Nicky's hand again, “tell your story, tell me how you convinced me that Qýuhn you were worthy of my hand in marriage.”

He swears he can hear Nicky smile in the dark.

“I didn't, Andromache came in and declared they should leave us to make our mistakes and then stab which ever of us was most in the wrong.”

Joe can't help but laugh. “Qýuhn like that?”

He feels Nicky's soft laughter vibrate through his skin, he wants to die like this, in a moment like this, just the two of them entwined.

“No, she called Andy soulless and unromantic, they went outside to spar. We didn't see them again til morning, and Qýuhn never mentioned it again, so maybe Andy had a little romance in her.”

“How have I never head of this story?”

Nicky's answering chuckle is a delight.

“You came back and we had the house to ourselves for the entire night.” The hand on Joe's head flexes, like he wants to hold Joe as tight as he is can but its as much as their position allows. “It was a good day. We were loved, we are loved.”

He wants to crawl inside Nicolò, live forever embraced by his heart, to feel every lung full of breath press against him

“Sleep my love,” Nicky says leaning low to press his cheek against Joe's curls, to place an unaimed kiss to his forehead.

Sleep.

Nicky’s heartbeat is a sure and steady thing against his ear

(a monitor screaming as his lives hand falls limp against restraints)

Joe squeezes his eyes tightly shut then forces himself to relax, to hear the beat that's been by his side for a thousand years. He thinks of crinkles at the sides of Qýuhn's eyes when she grinned, the way she'd look to Joe when she found something fun to share.

He thinks of the way Booker's face grew soft in the late of the night when the game had long ended and everyone had gone to sleep and it was just the two of them, keeping the sleepless night company.

He thinks of the glow of Nile's face when they walked the halls of the National Museum, her excited but obviously knowledgeable commentary, how he itches to draw the lines of her joy over and over til he gets it just right.

He thinks of Andy in Marrakesh, the feel of her ribs reverberating with the force of her laugh as he swung her around. She's mother, weird aunt, odd stranger, honored elder, pain in the ass know-it-all older sister and so many more things he can not think to name, but she's theirs, and it's going to take a lot more than mortality to take her from them.

He swears it.

Finally he thinks of Nicky.

Nicky with long hair in his face, of the ever changing color his eyes across the firelight, of the weight of his body passed out, sated atop Yusuf, of the weight of his body lifeless as Joe pulled him somewhere to revive safely. The heaviness of his gaze and the weightlessness of even his smallest smile. Of his hands as they held Joe together, the gentleness of his touch as he put him back together. Of the unique light in his eyes, the fire that burns brightest when his sword is out. He thinks of words freely given when speech was hardest, he thinks of the uncountable I love you's, the innumerable languages he's learnt just to speak them and hear them back.

He thinks of hot blood spattered across his face and the way Nicolòs eyes would fight to meet his own when the end was coming. He thinks of the tightening of hands before they became unbearably limp. He thinks of the bad deaths, of eyelashes glued together with tears as hes gasped alive and the watery smile that followed. He thinks of Nicky moving, his sword swinging, on broken ankle, spitting blood and still moving.

His head, his heart, his life is full, and sometimes it feels like he'll drown with all that's in it.

Nicky's hand moves from his head, moves to stroke down his spine, long and slow in repetition.

Sleep he says again, his own voice thick at the edge of sleep himself.

Joe hugs a small breath, then slows his breathing to match the deep level breathing of Nicolò asleep. He thinks about the first time they slept like this, arms around each other, tangled and holding tight. He thinks of the countless times he's rubbed his nose against the back of Nicky's neck as he tried to catch just a little more sleep time.

There's a heaviness growing in his limbs as he half dreams of Nicky as he wraps himself around and burrows himself closer to Nicky. Slowly, steadily and then suddenly all at once, the sense memory of nine hundred years in this man's arms lulls him into sleep.

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | PART 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

-----

Valentine was, first and foremost, a run-down, muddy livestock town. It constantly smelled at least slightly of manure, and rest assured that every person’s shoes were caked in mud and shit by the end of each day. There were very few children or families in town, and thus little entertainment for anyone who was too young to drink or play poker. Gossip ran through the town as fast as whisky in the saloon, which is coincidentally where you had heard about the upcoming auction.

At the large Livestock Auction on the outskirts of town, a small troupe of men were to be riding in, followed by nearly two-dozen sturdy-looking horses. Luckily for you, Ben loved animals - especially horses. He really did take after his father in that aspect. So, there was naturally no better entertainment for the five-year-old than taking him to watch the small herd ride into town.

The two of you sat on a bench outside the back of the train station, close enough to see the action, but far enough away to stay safe in case any of the poor animals were suddenly spooked. Ben was dressed warmly in the crisp morning air, huddled up in a sweater as he sat on the bench, swinging his short legs back and forth in excitement. He held the last half of his chocolate bar tight in his fist, watching in awe as the horses were separated into groups and led into the corrals. Occasionally, he would smack your arm in excitement and point at a specific horse, admiring their coat or gait or hooves or anything else he found interesting.

After nearly an hour of watching from a distance, the horses were all herded into their pens, and Ben looked up at you with wide, excited eyes. “Mama, can I go to the fence now?” he asked, practically bouncing from his place on the bench. “Please?”

You gently pried the chocolate bar from his hand, and nodded. “Go ahead,” you agreed, “but watch out when you cross the road.” The end of your sentence was called to the back of the child, who had immediately dashed to the fence of the Livestock Auction.

With a small smile, you stood and slowly followed him over. You had been so focused on your son that you didn’t notice the familiar face of the man riding towards you until he had called your name. “Well, I shoa didn’t take you for a rancher,” came Arthur’s voice from your left. There was no way you could hide your smile.

He had been tying his own horse to the hitching post by the train station when he called out to you. He gave the horse a gentle pat and whispered something to it before walking towards you and Ben, who was far too distracted by seeing the horses up close to take notice of him. You let out a laugh as he made his way to you. “Hello again, Mountain Man,” you greeted, putting your hand on Ben’s back as he climbed up the first rung of the fence. “I certainly ain’t, but I figure Ben may be when he’s older.” You patted Ben’s back affectionately has you spoke about him. He didn’t notice. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.”

Arthur reached up with a large hand to tip his tattered hat in your direction, which also made it slightly cover his eyes. “It weren’t no problem, miss. Really,” he explained, now standing behind Ben with you at his side. The awkward energy that had overwhelmed the end of your conversation the day before was now completely gone. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do. 

Ben suddenly called to you loudly, bouncing up and down on the fence, “Mama, there’s a baby horsy! Do you see?” He held up his right arm and pointed enthusiastically at a small pony towards the back of the lot. It had stubby legs and a long, black coat, contrasting significantly with its nearby cousins.

You reached forward and shushed him gently, not wanting him to spook the nearby animals. “Yes sweetheart, I can see it,” you confirmed, keeping your hand behind his back in case he lost balance and fell backwards in his excitement. “Regardless, it was very kind. Thank you.”

Luckily for Arthur, your eyes were still trained on your son, so you missed his small smile and light blush. “You’re welcome,” he responded, before he cleared his throat and took off his hat, holding it at his side. 

The three of you watched the horses together for a moment as they kicked up mud in front of you, both of you glancing down occasionally at Ben with small smiles on your faces. You had to admit, it was nice, standing there with him by your side. Any passerby who didn’t know you would have reasonably thought the three of you a family.

Ben continued to ramble on enthusiastically, “How old do you think it is?” He finally tore his eyes away from the small pony and looked around the lot at the other horses. “Which one is it’s mama?”

He looked around for another pony, raising one foot up to the next rung of the fence, for a better view. As he searched, Arthur moved to his side and bent down slightly, so that his head was at the same level as Ben’s. “Which baby horse you talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, looking in the same direction as your son.

Ben, thrilled to have a companion with the same interest, removed his hand from the railing and grabbed ahold of Arthur’s shirt. He nearly lost his balance, but Arthur’s strong arm swung up just in time, keeping the boy upright as he once again pointed toward the pony.  There, that little one in the back.” After regaining his balance, and using Arthur’s shoulder as leverage, Ben clambered up to the second rung with both feet.

Arthur grinned when he saw the little horse. “Well that one there’s a Shetland Pony,” he explained, keeping his arm around your son’s back to help him maintain his balance. You couldn’t help thinking that Arthur looked good like this. With an arm wrapped around your son, teaching him about the animals in front of him, he looked like a father. “They’re bred to be real little, and they stay that way their whole lives.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Wow! So it’ll be a baby forever?” he asked, looking to Arthur for confirmation.

There was that barking laugh again from the man, the one that was accompanied by a wide grin, the one that made him throw his head back, the one you were now hoping to hear on almost a daily basis. “Not a baby,” he responded, patting Ben’s back affectionately, “but yeah. It’ll stay little forever.” He nodded toward the horse, and Ben turned his attention once again to the creature. “‘Cause they’re so small, they’re used in the mines, usually. I bet this one is on its way to Annesburg or maybe somewhere up in the Grizzlies.” With his free hand, he gestured at the horse. “See its thick coat? That means it’s real easy for ‘im to stay nice and warm up in the snow.”

The boy stared at the pony in awe, mouth slightly agape. “How come you know so much about horses?”

Arthur chuckled at his wonderment and reached over to put his worn hat on Ben’s head. It sunk low and covered the boy’s eyes, forcing him to reach up and tilt it backwards - but he didn’t remove it. “Was always fond of ‘em, I guess,” Arthur responded, reaching to the satchel at his side with his newly free hand. “They’re good, strong beasts, and real loyal if you treat ‘em right.” As he spoke, he pulled a worn, leatherbound book out of the bag and began to flip through the pages. You caught glimpses of long, handwritten texts, plenty of doodles, and several large, intricate drawings. That was certainly surprising. “Here,” he continued, holding out the book to Ben when he had found the page he was looking for. “I found a real pretty, snow-white Arabian up in Ambarino a while back. Wish I had one of them cameras so I coulda’ taken a real picture for ya.”

You looked down at the page, where a large, intricate image of a snow-white horse was drawn in pencil. Somehow, you managed to hold back the gasp that threatened to escape. He drew that? It was one thing to defy the stereotype of a rough-and-tumble mountain man by having a journal, but he took it to a whole different level with his sheer talent. You glanced up at him as he proudly showed Ben the image.

“Wow!” Ben gasped, turning from the fence to run the fingers of his right hand over the page. “It’s so pretty!” You reached over and helped him down before he fell, and he immediately moved to stand between Arthur and the opened journal.

Immediately, Arthur moved to squat behind him, his head again level with Ben’s as the boy took hold of the journal. “She shoa was,” he said into the boy’s ear. “Almost missed ‘er ‘cause she blended right in with the snow.”

After a minute of entranced study of the drawing, Ben turned his face toward Arthur’s. “You drew her real good!”

He laughed again and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn his cheeks looked slightly redder than they had been a moment ago. “Thanks, boah. But it ain’t much,” he replied. His self-doubt once again bubbling up.

“No, he’s right,” you chimed in. Your eyes met his as you smiled at him and nodded toward the book. “It’s really a beautiful drawing.”

He paused for a moment before taking the book gently from Ben’s hands and reaching for the edge of the page. “Thanks,” he responded, and began to gently tear the page from the book. Your hand immediately rose to stop him, there was no need to tear it out. But before you could reach him, he already had the paper in hand and was handing it over to your son. “Here ya go. You can keep it.”

For the hundredth time in a single day, Ben’s eyes went wide. “Really?” he asked in awe, eyes again going wide as he gazed up at Arthur. This was surely going to be the highlight of his week.

Arthur nodded, chuckling. “Shoa,” he agreed, closing the book and slipping it back into the satchel at his side. “Can always draw another if I want.”

Ben’s face immediately lit up as soon the drawing was in his hands. “Woah! Thanks, Mister Mountain Man!” exclaimed Ben, who immediately dropped to the ground next to the fence to analyse the paper in more detail.

Arthur responded with a chuckled, “‘Course,” and ruffled Ben’s curls. For some reason, looking at the adorable scene  brought back that familiar lump in your throat. Was this what it would have been like if Andrew were here to watch his son grow? Was this what it looked like to have a child with a father?

Seeing Ben this happy was more satisfying than anything in the world. Seeing Arthur smiling down at your son, fingers again looped in his gun belt, also brought out a strange fondness that you didn’t think you would ever feel again. And then, inevitably, the memory of Andrew floats back into your mind, flavoring the entire situation with a strange sort of bittersweetness. 

“He’s a good kid,” Arthur’s contented voice brought you slowly back to reality. His gaze had moved from your son, still sitting on the ground, carefully holding the paper to prevent wrinkles, to your own. A small, bittersweet smile was aimed in your direction, and in that moment you knew - he understood. 

You nodded, not having the willpower to take your eyes from Arthurs. “He certainly is,” you said, affectionately. “Thank you, really.”

The self-doubt that ate at Arthur every day reddened his face. “It weren’t nothin,” he finally looked away from you and plucked his hat from Ben’s head and slipped it back on his own, shading his eyes from your view. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“No, no,” you weren’t having any of that. Not today, when he had made your son happier than you had seen in ages. “You probably just made his entire week. That’s not nothin’,” you continued, stepping closer to him and teasingly pushing his shoulder a bit.

He chuckled. “Well…”

But you weren’t about to let him continue, especially if he was only going to degrade himself. “How about I thank you by finally getting you that drink tonight? No price negotiations necessary,” you cut in, reaching up to straighten out his collar like you had done at the saloon on his first night in town. Again, your fingers brushed his bare skin at the collar of his shirt. This time, you were certain you felt him tense.

After a second of looking down at you, so close to him, feeling the brush of your fingers on his skin, he smiled and nodded. “Shoa. That’d be nice.” You grinned back up at him and dropped your hand from his shirt, missing the feeling of it as soon as you did. 

Arthur left shortly after your conversation, confirming that he would meet you at the saloon later that evening. You stayed for a while longer, sitting in the grass on the side of the road with Ben as he moved his gaze back and forth between the real horses, and the picture he had gotten from Arthur. After a half an hour or so, when all of the horses were penned and the sun was high in the sky, you finally stood, ruffled Ben’s hair and told him it was time to go home for the day. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way back home, taking the road through the center of town. On the way, you heard the familiar call of the newsboy, and looked over. Immediately, the headline and image on the front page caught your eye.

“SNAKE OIL MURDERER CAPTURED” was written in large bold font above an article and a photograph of a man, whose face you recognised. You quickly walked over and purchased a paper, opening it to read the entire page with Ben by your side. 

Looking again at the photograph, angry heat swelled in your chest. There was no mistaking those eyes. You had nearly forgotten them, but now they would be burned into your mind for the rest of your days. 

The memories flooded back to you like a dam had been broken in your mind. Andrew’s hacking coughs. His pale face, burning with fever. Worry about Ben. Worry about the Harvest. Resigning yourselves to wait the illness out and skimp on food during Winter. Hearing about a travelling doctor in town. Picking up the medication. Hope. 

And then? Finding Andrew’s lifeless body in bed next to you in the morning.

There was no denying it. It was too much of a coincidence to not have been true.

Benedict Albright, the Snake Oil Murderer, had killed your husband.

[homeformyheart]

unraveling truth | chapter 1: the tower (rod au)

author’s note: this is a ride or die princess/fantasy AU with inspiration from a bunch of different places, including a tarot card theme per chapter. some dialogue and scenes will reflect or tie back to the original story by pixelberry.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: ride or die – colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler); minor logan x mc series rating/warnings: 16+ chapter rating/warnings: 13+ word count: 4.2k story summary: eleanor wheeler is a princess and dreading her 18th birthday when she’s expected to select her future husband from her stifling peer group of eligible nobles. however, a not-so-chance encounter with a mysterious stranger she can’t quite place and a reckoning unlike any other finds her on a crazy self-discovery journey and quest to reclaim her throne.

unraveling truth | chapter 1: the tower

a tall, severe looking woman loomed over ellie’s head from behind, casting a shadow on the random flowers and landscapes she had been doodling in the notebook in front of her for the last two hours. she was supposed to be taking notes on all the suitable princes that would be arriving late afternoon to attend her eighteenth birthday ball, which happened to be one of her least favorite annual traditions. even though she would prefer a day out in the town or a quiet day in with those closest to her, as the guest of honor it was her duty to play host to all royals and nobles from the neighboring kingdoms while dodging inappropriate commentary about her beauty and womanly figure from men who were her father’s age and their wives who not-so-subtly insisted on trying to set her up with their sons.

this year, though, the ball was going to take on a slightly different, or rather expanded, purpose. it was also going to serve as her official societal debut as an adult, which meant it was going to be exponentially harder to avoid all the matchmaking conversations. now that she was turning eighteen, she was expected to pick a suitor by the end of the social season. and unfortunately for her, the end was coming up in a fortnight. as much as she hated how long the social season felt, now she wished she could delay it a little longer.

ellie flinched at the sound of her etiquette tutor’s stern voice and pointer slamming down on her parchment, bringing her attention back to the lesson.

“i don’t think drawing horses and flowers has any value in helping you select a proper suitor, your highness. today of all days, you must pay attention.”

ellie straightened up in her seat and feigned the sincerity in her voice as she replied, “i’m so sorry, mrs. clarke. i was paying attention – i know the best economically advantageous ally for us would be with the vandermeer family since we share a border.”

mrs. clark clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “we’ll review again, from the top.”

ellie inwardly groaned as she counted the minutes until her lecture was over. she wasn’t sure why she needed a refresher on the histories and lineage of each of the noble families that would be in attendance, but her father had insisted it was critical to making the right impression on her future in-laws, a term she already resented. she was only turning eighteen and had never been out of the country on her own before. how could she be expected to get married?

as soon as she was dismissed, she ran, or rather, walked as briskly as a princess should, to her chambers, where her best friend and lady-in-waiting, riya was waiting for her with her riding outfit prepared and tarot deck in hand.

“you are the best, riya! after three hours hearing about the same old stories about how noble families are constantly fighting for wealth or defending their titles, i could really use a ride,” ellie grimaced, letting out a loud sigh as riya helped her out of her dress, loosening the tight laces on the corset and helping her get changed.

“mmhm, and spend some time with looogan,” riya teased. ellie gave riya a pointed look as she pulled on her boots.

riya just looked at ellie with a raised eyebrow. “i’ve seen the way you look at him, and more importantly, the way he looks at you.”

ellie blushed. “i know, he’s sweet and he was my first kiss and everything, but at the end of the day, he’s my bodyguard and i have to marry a noble.”

riya wrapped ellie up in a big hug. “i know that sucks but i’m here for you, okay?”

“only when darius isn’t around, right?” ellie giggled at the blush that appeared on riya’s cheeks, earning her a light smack on the arm. “but really, thanks, riya.”

riya handed ellie the tarot deck – it was one of the few remaining possessions of her mother’s and it always made ellie feel a little closer to her mom whenever she communed with the cards – as though it was her mother’s spirit guiding her. ellie unfolded the handsewn and embroidered altar cloth and spread out the cards before her. she could really use some of that guidance today. ellie took a deep breath and concentrated on her intention for the day, although it was something she’d been ruminating over several weeks, which was: what is next for me?

ellie hovered her hand over the cards and moved from left to right with deliberation. she couldn’t describe exactly how the cards called her but it was a feeling, and when she felt the familiar invisible tug, she opened her eyes and flipped over the card.

the tower upright. one of the most dreaded cards in the deck and one that ellie had experienced only once before, when her mother died five years ago. ellie stared at the card until she felt riya’s reassuring hand on her shoulder. “it’s okay,” riya said softly, gently grabbing the card from ellie’s hand and nudging her to stand.

“i know. i can’t dwell on this now. thanks riya,” ellie sighed and made her way over to the door. “i’ll be back in an hour.”

* * * * * the sky was absolutely clear outside with the sun shining brightly overhead. ellie closed her eyes outside the stables and tilted her head upward so she could relish the warmth. feeling the gentle breeze tickle her hair and the sun warm her face immediately lightened her mood.

“hey there, troublemaker.”

ellie opened her eyes to find herself staring into the warm, brown eyes of her one-time adolescent crush. logan was leaning casually against the doorframe, his tousled hair framing his tanned face. ellie let her eyes wander around his face, taking in his firm jaw and high cheekbones and the way the corner of his lips were pulled up into a smirk, before responding.

“as i recall, you were always the one in trouble,” she smirked, walking around him and into the stables.

logan followed behind ellie, stopping to take the reins of midnight, her strong, black stallion and the more tempered chestnut mare he often rode to keep her company so he could lead the horses outside. “by the way, i’m pretty sure you’re the reason i got into trouble, since you seemed to make it your personal mission to ditch your security detail.”

ellie stuck her tongue out at him before climbing into the saddle swiftly. nothing quite compared to the feeling of freedom and control that she felt while riding. it didn’t take long before she was urging midnight to a gallop across the fields toward the woods at the edge of the palace property. she knew without looking that logan was right behind her, albeit a few paces behind given the chestnut mare he was riding was a little older. he was always cognizant of her reputation and kept up the appearances of distance between the two of them. the chestnut mare, which was the typical choice for noble ladies, was one such example of logan’s thoughtfulness toward her reputation. anyone paying attention to the stables would assume he had taken midnight while she rode the mare.

she finally slowed enough for logan to catch up as they approached the woods and she gently guided midnight toward a small path that they both knew by heart. it was a fairly narrow dirt path that seemed to go nowhere but she had discovered as a child that by turning right at a particular gap in the trees, the path opened up to a small clearing and pond in the center. ellie dismounted and made her way over to the pond, taking off her boots so she could dip her feet in the water. logan mirrored her and the two of them sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling with the breeze.

“i can’t believe somehow i’m supposed to decide who i want to marry today,” ellie said with a loud sigh. “i thought i would feel differently about being eighteen, but it’s just another day like all the others, isn’t it? i’m supposed to just keep my head down and do what’s asked of me.” she looked over at logan and felt a longing rise in her chest. the sun trickling through the leaves of the trees above them created dancing shadows on his serene face.

logan finally looked over at her and ellie suddenly felt as though the clearing was too warm and the water encircling her feet was not cold enough and all she wanted to do was reach over and pull logan into a kiss so she could breathe easy again. she didn’t know that much about him since he kept to himself so maybe her feelings were mostly physical in nature, but there was just something about him, especially when he looked at her as tenderly as he was doing now, that made her wish deep-down that she was born of a life where she had the option to choose him.

“no matter what, birthdays are for celebrating with those you love. and there’s a team of people working really hard to make sure that you get to celebrate the right way,” he said, giving her a dazzling smile that seemed to glow with warmth from the sun.

ellie pulled her feet out of the water and began drying off. “are you part of this ‘team of people’?” she asked, letting herself feel excited and repress the dread and longing she felt moments before.

logan smirked at her as she lifted herself onto her horse, following suit on his own. “that’s a secret. now, we better get back quickly before i get sentenced to death for kidnapping the princess.”

* * * * * the rest of the afternoon sped by as ellie was meticulously prepped as though she were both a rag doll and porcelain figurine. she was bathed, combed, and groomed until her skin felt raw and her scalp tingled unpleasantly before being pinched, waxed, and made up with delicate eye makeup and a deure shade of lipstick. finally, ellie put on her custom pale pink a-line gown with a flowing tulle skirt and lace sleeves. the high neckline kept the dress modest, but the cinched waist showed off her svelte figure. gold lace and intricate embroidery detail covered the dress, balancing the sheer softness of the pink against the bold color that would certainly shimmer under the ballroom chandeliers. riya carefully placed a gold braided headband on ellie’s head before securely tying the white mask decorated with pink and gold feathers over ellie’s eyes.

ellie had suggested the masquerade theme by convincing her father that getting to know the suitors while in disguise would help her make a more objective choice since hopefully they wouldn’t realize who she really was until the end of the evening. secretly, ellie also wanted to see if anyone would be interested in her if they didn’t know she was the princess. once riya gave her the thumbs up, ellie took a deep breath and stepped outside her room.

logan straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall opposite the door to ellie’s room. as her personal bodyguard, he was allowed to stay close to her, but he knew he was often pushing the definition of “close.” his eyes widened as he took in ellie’s appearance – she looked both absolutely angelic and mysterious, and he simultaneously forgot and became painfully aware that he was well below her station.

ellie beamed at him and gave a small twirl to show off the full dress. “what do you think?”

“you look absolutely breathtaking, your highness. now let’s go make your secret entrance,” logan said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and holding out his arm.

as ellie slid her petite arm through his, logan heard a soft voice whisper, it’s okay to love her. he looked around quickly with his peripheral vision but knew deep-down that the voice came from inside him. whether or not he had any real feelings for ellie didn’t matter, he had a job to do and couldn’t afford any distractions, no matter how beautiful and funny and kind they may be. as he led her down the back stairwell toward a side door he couldn’t help but glance down, trying to memorize the feel of her arm in his and the glow of the lights illuminating her cheeks. as they walked out the door, he took a deep breath and buried that voice as far down as he could, covering it with a metaphorical lid. she wasn’t meant to be his.

ellie extricated her arm from logan’s and gave him a nod. he stepped back and disappeared around the corner, presumably to find a shadow in the ballroom he would use to keep watch. ellie watched as noble after noble, dressed in their most ornate masks and formal wear made their way up the steps and through the palace doors. she clenched her fists at her side to steel herself before lifting her chin with pride and taking a step forward. she could do this.

she stepped inside and was quickly escorted by a servant toward the intimidating ballroom doors. out of the corner of her eye, she saw logan give her a reassuring smile from his “hiding place,” and smiled to herself before squaring her shoulders and walking purposefully into the ballroom, hoping she looked like the epitome of a noble lady. the room was already bustling with conversation and people milling about with drinks, and she flagged down the nearest servant as discreetly as she could so she could grab a flute of the sparkling champagne.

she took a careful sip and crinkled her nose at the carbonated bubbles tickling her nose but then quickly drank half the class once she realized she liked the crisp, dry flavor that hinted of apple. she felt the liquid settle in her stomach and a warm feeling bloom outward until she felt it on her cheeks. she had alcohol before of course, but forgot to take it slow.

ellie didn’t notice a tall nobleman walking toward her from the left and it was too late to pivot once she did. she took a couple steps to the left while looking to her right for a servant to leave her empty glass with when she walked right into a dark-haired man wearing a soft, velvet frock set in black and trimmed in silver lace and black silk gloves. her hand immediately went from where it was holding the skirt of her dress to his abdomen and she looked up to meet the most intense gaze she’d ever encountered. She could feel his gaze piercing through his matching black velvet mask.

“oh, i’m so sorry sir,” she quickly stammered, trying to take an off-balance step back to create space between them.

his arm shot out quickly under hers and held her steady at the waist. ellie felt her cheeks warm at his touch; it was strange, but she felt like his touch was just as intense as his gaze.

“looks like you’re in the wrong place, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear, grabbing the empty champagne flute out of her right hand and placing it on the tray of a servant walking past them.

ellie felt her temper flare and deliberately took a step back and smoothed out her skirts to keep from telling him off. “who wants to know?” ellie said, through a clenched smile and glare that she hoped conveyed that she thought he had some nerve talking to her like that.

“just wondering who you’re trying to impress, looking like that,” he replied, the corner of his lip tilting up into a very attractive smirk. “that dress seems a bit overkill if you’re tripping over your feet. not very graceful for a lady, are we?”

“i’m meeting someone so i’m afraid i’m going to have to excuse myself,” ellie forced out through a smile that was already hurting her cheeks. she was tempted to dig her heels into his toes and could imagine the satisfaction she’d feel at hearing him cry out in pain, but instead curtsied and turned to walk away.

she took one step forward when she felt a gloved hand grab onto her pinky finger. she whirled around slowly to maintain an air of grace but glared at the masked man who had let go of her finger and now had his hand outstretched toward her.

“dance with me,” he said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice ellie couldn’t quite place. she looked up into his eyes and realized that she didn’t think she had it in her to say no.

as soon as she nodded, he led her to the dance floor where a few other pairs were already dancing along with the live quartet. his arm slid confidently around her waist and ellie placed hers on his shoulder with practiced ease. she was surprised at the way he led her around the floor so gracefully, it felt like she was barely touching the floor.

“i’m surprised at how light you are on your feet. i don’t think i’ve seen you around,” ellie said carefully, tilting her head up to look at him as he twirled her around.

he smirked. “that’s because i haven’t been around.”

now ellie was really curious. “you mean, this social season? i’ve had to dance with a couple dozen nobles all summer but none of them dance quite like you.”

the smirk on his face faded into a thin, pressed line. “no, i haven’t been around for a few years. my father and i didn’t see eye-to-eye and he didn’t want me around.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he quickly spun her out and back in before she could finish her apology.

when he pulled her back in, he lowered his head by her ear and murmured, “i don’t want your pity, sweetheart. see you around.”

he bowed and she curtsied reflexively before he quickly turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. ellie didn’t have time to react before a different nobleman asked her to dance, followed by another, and she found herself going from partner to partner, song to song, making conversation about anything and nothing, leaving her without a chance to catch her breath and make sense of her spinning thoughts.

ellie excused herself from her last partner, grabbing and subsequently draining another glass of champagne from a servant walking by before weaving in and around couples on the dancefloor until she reached the pillar closest to the quartet. she ducked behind the pillar and folded the skirt of her dress behind her so it wouldn’t flare out and took a few slow, deep breaths to calm herself down.

every single person that she danced with clearly had one agenda for tonight. while she was grateful none of them managed to guess who she really was, at least out loud, it was getting tiresome hearing about who they thought had the best chance of marrying her or wondering where she was or wondering if she might be interested in them. only one person didn’t seem to care about that, and she had no idea who he was or where he was from.

maybe she was feeling on edge at the moment with all the adrenaline from the evening pumping through her but she swore she could feel someone approaching her hiding spot. not like the normal self-defense or slightly paranoid feeling of someone coming up behind you, but a real, grounded gut feeling that someone was about to come up to her. ellie quickly pivoted to her right and raised her fists so she wouldn’t be caught off guard but was surprised anyway to see logan.

“whoa, there troublemaker. it’s just me. come on, it’s time for your announcement,” logan said quietly. despite the smirk on his face, ellie couldn’t find the usual playfulness in his eyes.

he led her toward the front where her father was waiting, his arm outstretched toward her. she felt logan leave her side and retreat back to a discreet location a split second before he actually did it, but didn’t get a chance to process that before her father looped her hand through his arm and led her toward the front of the room.

“ready, ellie? your life won’t be the same after this,” her father smiled as he looked down at her the way he had done for as long as she could remember, at least since her mother died. like she was a precious, fragile little flower that needed to be protected from the elements of nature.

before she had a chance to answer, a chorus of silverware clinking against champagne glasses quickly quieted the oblivious conversations still happening and ellie had to physically fight her own body from recoil from all the eyes that were now staring at her. she tried to distract herself from the gnawing in her stomach by scanning the room for any expressions of those she danced with who didn’t realize who she was at the time. it was entertaining to say the least, seeing people suddenly look embarrassed and shocked.

her father cleared his throat and ellie knew that was her cue to smile like the picture-perfect princess if she wasn’t already. she kept scanning the room, and couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that the mysterious man she bumped into was nowhere to be found. she sighed inwardly and turned her attention back to her father’s speech since she would have to give hers once he was done.

“i just have one last thing to say to my beloved daughter, eleanor. i am so proud of the young woman you’ve become and i know you’ll do great things. everyone please, raise a glass to celebrate my wonderful daughter’s birthday—” he had raised his glass of champagne but was cut off by a rumbling sound overhead that was quickly followed by a CRACK! and the crunch of concrete crumbling together.

ellie looked up and saw a deep fissure was defacing the beautiful greek-castle architecture design of the ceiling and the crack was expanding as it approached the front of the room, where she currently stood next to her father, frozen in shock. she barely registered logan appearing behind her.

“go! keep her safe,” her father implored, turning only after logan gave him a firm nod.

“no, wait, dad!” ellie watched with horror as her dad disappeared behind the fallen rubble until he was out of sight. logan started half-dragging, half-carrying her until she came to her senses and started running as fast as she could in heels and a long dress, letting him guide her by the hand around screaming people and falling concrete.

they stepped out through a hidden exit that was mostly used by servants to make it easier for them to get to the ballroom from the kitchen. logan expertly led her through the hidden corridor and ellie vaguely registered how abandoned the kitchen looked, with trays of desserts and champagne ready to go; the irony of how wasteful this luxury could be was not lost on her. despite how her toes pinched, she kept her mouth shut and did her best to keep up with logan, who made a beeline for the back door and around the castle until they reached the stables.

midnight and a horse ellie didn’t recognize were already saddled with what looked like fully packed saddle bags.

“why does midnight look like she’s been prepared for an escape and whose horse is that?” ellie was dumbfounded and there was no one else in the stables.

logan pulled her toward midnight and lifted her up so she was forced to grab on to the reins and climb into the saddle as he quickly turned to do the same on his horse. “i’ll explain later, we need to get as far away from here as possible. follow my lead and don’t stop for anyone!”

ellie matched logan’s pace as they left the castle grounds and even though they were galloping full speed under the light of the moon, ellie couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. part of the roof had collapsed, leaving the stone turret closest to her vantage point standing alone among the rubble, its gray stone coat illuminated by the moon.

in that moment, she knew she might never see her home or her father again. the picture of the turret standing tall like a tower was seared in her mind and a sense of dread unlike anything she had felt before settled in her chest. she knew this sudden upheaval of her life, the destruction of her home, and the loss of her innocence was only the beginning of what the cards were trying to tell her.

* * * * * mentions: @kat-tia801​; @lovehugsandcandy​; permatag: @withbeautyandrage​; @agentnolastname​; @freckles-spangledvampire​

[peytonainsworth]

/ * { madelaine petsch ☁ twenty-seven ☁ she/her } among the whispers around peach hollow, have you heard of peyton ainsworth? no? well, let’s catch you up to speed. rumor has it, they’ve been seen strolling around olive avenue & have lived in peach hollow for two weeks, seeing as she just moved back. it’s good to have them around because i hear they’re an event planner for a living. recent events must have them trembling because it hasn’t be long since everyone found out that peyton used to escort in order to support herself after disowning her hotel tycoon father’s riches. let’s hope they learned their lesson that the truth always catches up to you. { haley ☁ twenty-one ☁ she/her ☁ est }

hi babies ! i’m haley, twenty-one savage from the est. massachusetts to be exact. like every bostonian, i drink clam chowder through a straw and hold a tom brady vigil by my bedside nightly. some of you may know peyton and her big personality already but for those of you that don’t, here is my lil red lipstick, ginger, regina george queen <3333

personality

character inspo: quinn fabray, santana lopez, regina george, jackie burkhart, blair waldorf, heather chandler, cheryl blossom ofc

HEAD BITCH IN CHARGE

will roast ur entire existence

perfectionist!! detail oriented!!

CRAZY PSYCHO BITCH

the problem child bc her sister is an angel

big bitch but has a heart sometimes

she will not go get mexican food w u don’t even ask but she really just wants a damn burrito

will literally come over and marie kondo ur entire life

evil genius and luvs revenge

a legit psycho when it comes to loving people like has hacked her exes phones even though she seems calm and collected on surface level

will force u to watch home videos of her skating and u will watch

don’t ask to see her sketch books she will blush and change the subject

past

peyton hasn’t live in georgia all of her life. in fact she is one of the town’s newer residence. she moved there a little under a year ago with her mom and sister.

peyton was born and raised in san francisco in a neighborhood called pacific heights, commonly known as billionaire’s row.

she was born into wealth, her father owning a chain of five star hotels that had been passed down through the generations for as long as she could remember. she spent a ton of time in the beautiful hotels her father owned, learning her work ethic from him. her father was stoic man who put more value on a dollar than substantial relationships with his family. your typical rich dad.

her mother was a trophy wife, spewing meaningless side projects like perfume lines and eye shadow palettes that enviably made their way into departments stores alike.

peyton’s fondest childhood memories was helping set up for the weddings in the hotels. watching the flowers be arranged, the chairs be strategically placed, the wait staff setting the champagne flutes. this lead to her taking an interest in doodling wedding dresses and small flower arrangements.

she has a small wildflower tattoo going along the curve of her breast that she drew, fun fact.

when she was three, her little sister was born. the two grew up inseparable, running amuck in their house together, pranking the nannies but most importantly: ice skating. there were obviously no ice rinks in california naturally but their nanny would take them to an indoor skating rink for lessons. peyton and audrey were quite good skaters.

in high school, peyton won a ton of awards in art contests and even got scholarship to attend art schools across the country.

her dad insisted there was no money in being artist (even if money was never a problem for them), he urged her to take over and be a hotel tycoon like him. peyton and her father fought a lot towards the end of high school about this but at the end of the day, she was her fathers daughter and was stubborn. peyton knew the key to happiness was chasing you passion instead of the dollar.

she attended rhode island school of art and design, earning a degree in interior design and a minor in illustrator. after graduating, she returned home and expected to have a job in the hotel that could suit her.

as she expected, her father got her a job in his business planning the events and having creative control over how each other ballrooms looked as well as the lobbies. working in close quarters with her father made their relationship grow quite strong. the two did everything together and suddenly their stoic walls were crumbling, only for each other.

it seemed as though everything in peyton’s life was coming together. she was the head event coordinator at the hotel, her father was her boss and allowed her to have free range. her sister was around so they could goof off at work.

this was until one day peyton was bringing her father lunch from their favorite mexican food truck in the city. she then walked in on her father sleeping with his assistant which put a stake in their relationship.

peyton couldn’t keep the secret from her mother. she’d rather her mother walk away with dignity rather than stay with a man who had no respect for her. but her mother did not have the same respect for herself.

peyton made the decision to take her funds and move to georgia to be near her grandparents, that’s how she ended up in peach hollow.

peyton’s time in peach hollow

peyton moved to peach hollow three years ago per her ultimatum to her mother that it was either her or her father and her mother chose her father.

she moved into a house on olive avenue and visited her grandparents frequently.

being skeptical at first about the new town around her, it took her a while to warm up and make friends.

she owned her own successful event planning business.

after about a year of living in peach hollow, she started dating leo choi and their relationship was rough from the very beginning. around the time they made things official, it got exposed by the peacher that she was an escort. and it also got exposed that leo had a secret child.

but peach hollow made peyton an extremely happy person and even made her a better human being.

peyton and leo were happy for about a year after overcoming their obstacles, just to run into another. leo got busy with work and his son, growing closer to other people as peyton began to drift away herself. it wasn’t until one day when their estrangement became physical.

leo walked in on his roommate lucas and peyton having sex and that was the end of their relationship. this was also the end of peyton’s time in peach hollow.

the last two years & now

after cheating on leo, peyton moved to nyc to take a job offer at a five star hotel planning events and also freelancing other galas throughout the city.

peyton’s been absolutely thriving, becoming a bit of a party girl with the city life but also finding herself as a professional in the daylight.

she’s even had a few relationships in new york but nothing as serious as her relationship with leo. she lowkey still has their pictures tucked away in her manhattan apartment. 

she brought her dog mango to nyc from sanfran.

doesn’t talk to her mom or dad, has cut all ties completely.

moved back to peach hollow (olive ave) bc her grandma is sick and she needs someone to take care of her. is not happy ab it. was living her best life. 

[babybluebanshee]

Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but “tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

------------

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

[aaaa-mpersand]

Just Use Your Hogwarts House Traits...

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this like, 2 years ago, when I was way young. Obviously, now we know that JK Rowling is a jackass, so I want to clarify that I don’t support her or her work. The story itself isn’t about harry potter, but it does use a harry potter reference as a punchline. Anyway, summary is that this is a funny vent story I wrote about interviews, because they’re awkward and there’s a lot of pressure and I never know what to say. It’s an urban fantasy about a young witch who’s just as pretentious as Holden Caulfield but funnier (I hope?) and a demon in the woods who does her math homework for her. They’re at an interview. This is basically a crack fic. ––––––––– "How would your friends describe you?" 

I tilt my head to the side as I consider his words, hyper aware of his gaze. You’d think they’d transfigured hawks, put ties on them, and told them to run interviews by how he’s looking at me, occasionally making notes on his clipboard even though I’ve yet to say a word. The fluorescent light above us continues to hum with electricity, bathing the room with glaring light that make the walls even paler. I tap my fingers on the stainless steel desk, thump my dirty sneakers against the perfect blue carpet. I can see the notes he’s scratching into the notepad, even though the wooden back of the clipboard is faced towards me. I can see it like someone hooked up a spy camera behind him and linked it up to my head. Dyed red hair––obviously symbolises her secret affiliation to secret organizations. Wholly unprofessional, and she fools no one. Trekked half a forest full of dirt into my office with those mismatched shoes––no respect for property and communal spaces. Hair uncombed, bad posture, chipped nails, and fidgeting suggests poor work ethic and unpreparedness. Denim skirts went out of fashion two decades ago. The obviously hand-knitted scarf she’s wearing looks like the crap I gave when Melissa told me was late because her car broke down suspiciously close to the nearest Starbucks. I think she’s trying to use it to cover up the horrendous pimple on her nose–– “Excuse me ma’am,” he says, his voice bleeding irritation leashed back by iron-willed politeness. “Would you please answer the question?” “What?” I ask, jerked from my thoughts. His thin lips crease into a brief frown. It’s an honest question, but people with ties and clipboards hate it when you say ‘what.’ He sighs through his nose instead of his mouth. It fools no one. “The question, Miss Chant.” “What was the question again?” A vein I hadn’t noticed before in his neck bulges. I can’t blame him. We’ve probably been here for longer than he expected. “How would your friends describe you, Miss Chant?” I lean back in my seat to consider it again, and he almost looks like he’s about to turn into a ball of flames and burn a hole through the floor. It would be funny if I were doing this on purpose, but I’m wracking my brain like a senior five minutes from the end of their final exam. Hard-working? Too generic, and Aunt Way would hold it over my head every time she wanted me to do laundry. She has a way of knowing these things. Team player? Absolutely no one in my life would let me live that one down, and I doubt he would believe me either. “Miss Chant.” I can feel his annoyance and anger rising like a storm, and my thoughts turn frantic. Unique? No one cares about that. Expressive? Just about the worst way to sell yourself to someone like Mr. Hawk Interviewer. The solution dawns on me, and I almost knock my chair over in my haste to get up. Wordlessly, frantically, I motion for him to wait, pulling out sharpies and tealights out of my coat pocket and accidentally dropping a few colorful hair bands in the process. He opens his mouth to protest, the same way he did when he was trying to stop me from wearing my big bulky coat into the interview in the first place, but I’m already out of my seat and crouching on the floor. “Miss Chant, what are you doing?” “One second,” I say, and before he can say anything else, I pop the cap off the red sharpie and start drawing symbols I’ve doodled and traced since I was a toddler. He splutters––they always splutter––but I pay him no attention as I place the tea candles in their respective spots. “Miss Chant!” He gets up. That’s always a bad thing in an interview, but I can’t think about it now. He wouldn’t listen even if I tried to explain. You can always tell what type of people wouldn’t listen even if you tried to explain, and Mr. Hawk is one of them. Before he can take another step, I pull a lighter out of my pocket and quickly light all of the tealights. He pauses, as if scared to accidentally knock over a candle and set the whole place ablaze, but his efforts are futile, because I mutter a few words under my breath, and the whole room is engulfed in flames. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. Mr. Hawk makes a strangled sound (I take it back, he’s not a hawk, he sounds like an ostrich who smoked too many cigarettes when he was a teenager) but I barely blink. You get used to the room being swallowed entirely by harmless, piercing white flames after the first twenty times. It’s barely for 2 seconds, however, before the flames disappear with a crack, and in the place of my messily scrawled symbols, there is––

"A cat,” he says, finally, looking as if the purring ball of fur on the carpet floor was about to sprout wings and laser eyes. “That’s a cat.” “Yes,” I frown. The cat’s coat is a pure white. The only one of my cats who’s even close to this color is Timothy, and I sold him to the man next door last week for seven AA batteries. “And it’s not one of mine.” “You mean…” he clutches his clipboard tighter––I’m surprised he’s even still holding it. “It wasn’t supposed to be a cat?” “Well, it isn’t,” I say, deciding to answer him honestly. “Just give it a moment. Sometimes these things are finicky.” I squint at the carpet around the cat, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong. (It’s a little bit like math sometimes. You stare at the problem until you figure out what simple mistake made the whole thing give you a completely inaccurate answer.) This time, it only take a few sweeping glances before I notice the issue. “You’ve knocked over my tealight!” I say, irritated, scampering over to the candle at the interviewer’s feet. In his terror, he must’ve flipped it over. He mumbles an apology, but I barely hear it as I pull the tealight right side up, grimacing at the spot of wax that had stuck to the navy carpet. The janitors would have a hell of a time cleaning that up. Looking back just in time, I see the cat stand up, suddenly alert. Ordinary at first, and then its back legs bulge to the size of a basketball, then to the size of a table. The interview visibly pales––I almost feel bad for him, but it’s what you get when you mess up a simple summoning––and the cat pivots upright. Fur turns to leathery skin and scales, claws elongate, horns push out of its scalp like a plant sprouting in fast motion. The whole cat––or well, not really a cat anymore––swells ten times their size, turns a dull, bluish grey, and then opens their slitted gold eyes.

Their lips curl into a wide grin, revealing yellowed fangs. “Colin!” “It’s Kerin,” I correct him, politely. They squint at me for a very long time, bending down so their curled horns don’t scrape at the ceiling. They only stop when their face is inches from mine, and I struggle to keep my face straight when they breathe lightly on my face. It smells like a boy’s locker room after a three hour long football game. "Long time no see!” they say after a long moment, straightening and then banging their horns against the ceiling so hard it leaves cracks. They barely seem to notice. “What do you need today, Miss Colin. I have this week’s math test already completed, answers verified, if that’s what you––” “––No thank you,” I cut in quickly. My not-so-honorable testing habits were not something I want to flaunt in the present situation. “I just need you to tell me how you would describe me.” Their brow furrows in confusion, and they peer around the room, gaze falling on the interviewer, who is clutching his desk to keep from fainting. “Are you at an interview or something, Miss Colin?”  “Yup. Internship.” They frown. “Are you sure you’re allowed to summon me around here? “They said they wanted interns who were good problem solvers and could think out of the box,” I reply, which is not really a lie. They seem satisfied with the explanation, however, and tap at their chin with one large, scaly finger. “What question did he ask you, Miss Colin?” “How would my friend describe me,” I say. They crack a bright, genuine smile at my implication, but it’s hardly old news. Supernatural creature or not, they’re the only one that can stand me. "Just use your Hogwarts house traits!” They say, throwing their hands up and accidentally carving deep scratches into the ceiling. The interviewer chokes out a small scream––I almost forgot he was there––and swallows in terror. They carry on as if they hadn’t even noticed. “I found that advice on tumblr. It’s crazy how much useful stuff you can find on that such a freakish hellsite." “I don’t like Harry Potter,” I say, but when both the interviewer and my friend gape soundlessly at me (though, probably for different reasons), I quickly amend my words. “I mean, I liked the books and all, those were great, but the movies were terribly done. I mean, the whole ‘did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire scene? And don’t even get me started on the Cursed Child––” “But you’ve got to have taken the Pottermore sorting quiz before, right?” they asked, the words almost sounding like a plea. I sigh. “Yeah,” I say, “I got ravenclaw.” “That’s great!” They say, breaking into another grin of good intentions and rotting teeth. “I got hufflepuff. It’s too bad we’re not house buddies––” “Yeah, but I need you to tell me how you would describe me,” I say, my patience growing thin. It was only a matter of time before the interviewer stopped staring at me like I was an alien species and started yelling about the scratches on his ceiling and the wax on his carpet. “That’s why I called you here.” “Well,” They tilt their head to the side, tapping their finger against their chin. “You’re funny.” “This is an internship. They don’t care about my endless wit.” Though I had to agree it was one of my best traits. They press their lips together. “And you’re kind. You come to visit me every day, or whenever you can. You’re really smart because you like to read, especially about space and stuff. You’re really brave, cause one time you got stuck in a fairy circle but you didn’t even panic, and all you did was tell the fae that you would rip out her perfect teeth from her jaw and make her eat every single one of them like cough medicine. And you’re really sensitive––” “––I’m not sensitive––” “––Because one time High Witch Way Chant told you to stop wearing mismatched shoes and walking around in the forest so much, and you came to my place and cried for three d––” “––Okay that’s enough,” I said, starting to regret my decision. I glanced over at the interviewer, who still looked like they’d been forcibly shoved into cardiac arrest. I decided to count that as a blessing. “Thank you for your help. You can go now.” They frown. “But you haven’t paid.” I roll my eyes. “Do I have to?” They wave a finger in my face. “You know the rules, Miss Colin. If you’d come over to my place, it would’ve been different, but because you summoned me––” “––Yeah, I couldn’t exactly run to a cottage in the middle of a forest in the middle of an interview––” They shook their head. “You know the rules, Miss Colin.”

Sighing, I search my pockets, finally finding what I’m looking for in the back pocket of my denim skirt. I pull it out, and then, one by one, I toss them seven AA batteries.

"Thanks," I say again. They nod to acknowledge my words, their large, coiling horns glowing white with heat as they do. The interviewer makes himself even smaller, struggling to stay upright on his wobbly legs, but it doesn’t make a difference. In another flash of light, they’re gone. All that’s left are a couple crushed tealights, bleeding broken sharpies, and a lot of wax stuck to the once-perfect navy carpet. The clipboard lays forgotten on the floor.

"I'm very intelligent, curious..." I tap the side of my chin, turning back around to face him. "And creative." 

The interviewer manages to choke out just enough words to tell me I'm fired. 

[theunluckiestchat]

Remembrance 4

AO3 link Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Summary: Good friend times and smelly cheese

CHAPTER 3

“Yes, Madame” Marinette said into her phone as she doodled on the notepad on the table in front of her.

“You do understand what this could do for your career?”

“Madame Bourgeois, I realize that this is a huge opportunity for me and I will do everything I can to meet your demands”

“Good. I’ll see your result in two weeks”

“Of course. Have a nice day Madame, and please tell Chloé I said hello”

Audrey Bourgeois hummed before she hung up the phone and Marinette let out the breath she had been holding.

“So, what’d she say?” Alya asked eagerly from her spot on the couch.

“That if I design a ‘showstopping yet casual’ dress she’ll feature me in her magazine” Marinette said, still not quite believing it.

Alya squealed and ran up to hug her. Marinette, finally relaxing a little, started to laugh and hugged her best friend back.

“Girl, this is so amazing! I can’t believe you’ll be a world-famous designer soon”

“That’s because I’m not, but this really is a step in the right direction” Marinette argued.

“Hell yeah it is!”

And it really was. After Marinette had turned down the offer Audrey Bourgeois had made her back when she was in her teens she thought she would never have a chance like that again. She couldn’t really remember why she turned it down, she knew there had been a big reason, but that was one of the things the accident had erased from her memory. It didn’t matter now anyhow, because she had a new chance, and this time she wouldn’t have to leave home to do it.

She really believed it was all thanks to Chloé that she had gotten this opportunity. Somehow – Marinette still didn’t quite understand it – she and Chloé had become friends. It was a friendship that was full of compliments disguised as insults and competitive support. It was strange, but Marinette was happy to have it. She had noticed Chloé changing and slowly becoming a better person after becoming Queen Bee, but it had taken a lot more maturing from both of them before they were able to enter the friendship they had now. Luckily, they were both stubborn enough to mature, and they made quite the team together.

“The boys are coming over tonight, by the way” Alya said as she went back to the couch and her laptop.

“Oh, good thing I bought enough to make a big dinner then” Marinette said.

“Yup. They want to challenge us at Ultimate Mecha Strike V”

“HA! They don’t stand a chance” Marinette said and sat down beside Alya on the couch.

“Exactly my thought” Alya smirked and the two friends fistbumped each other.

  ————————-

A few hours later, after stuffing themselves full of Marinette’s cooking, all four friends were fighting to death on a video game. There was blood, there were tears, and at the end there was a winning team.

Alya and Marinette high fived after winning the best out of five they had been challenged to. While true that Alya wasn’t much for video games, she had Marinette on her team and with Marinette you never lose.

They all settled into comfortable positions in the couch and armchairs and Marinette poured up wine to them all. They talked and laughed, catching up for a lot of lost time. They hadn’t all been together like this in a long time and suddenly it was like they were back in collége. Except with alcohol. They reminisced about old times talked about hopes for the future. Adrien told stories from his time in England and the other three told stories from home. Nino spilled wine on his white t-shirt and got laughed at for the rest of the night for it. At some point Alya and Nino started making out and Marinette and Adrien made disgusted faces to each other. Alya fished out some old school photos and they all laughed and cooed at how small and cute they were. Marinette fell asleep on Adrien’s shoulder and he couldn’t stop looking at her and smiling.

It was nice. It was perfect.

  ————————-

“You need to ask her out, dude” Nino said as he and Adrien were walking home.

“Huh?” Adrien said, despite knowing exactly what his friend meant.

“Marinette. You need to ask her out”

Adrien smiled. “I’m going to. I think. I am. At some point”

Nino chuckled and shook his head slowly.

“Seriously, man. You should have asked her out years ago. Don’t wait any longer”

At this Adrien’s smile morphed into a frown. Nino was right. He should have asked her out sooner, she was amazing and he had liked her for a long time. But he had been so hung up on Ladybug, even after she was out of his life completely.

Nino put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you were going through a lot back then but don’t think about that. Right now you like her and she likes you, just go for it”

Adrien nodded. He would go for it. He definitely would. No way would he miss the chance to be with an amazing woman like Marinette. And if she really did like him like Nino said, then he had nothing to lose.

Ladybug had been his first love, but he realized now that they were never meant to be, no matter how many times he had said it when they were young. And that was just the thing. He was young. He didn’t know anything about love other than what he had learned from movies and TV. And that wasn’t real life love. He had tried to create a movie romance with Ladybug, but that was never going to work. She had a real love, she’d told him that many times and he had refused to listen. Maybe that was why she never came to meet him, maybe she was afraid he would ruin that real love she had. Maybe he would have…

But he couldn’t keep thinking about that. About Ladybug. She was part of his past. Marinette however, could hopefully be a part of his future.

  ————————-

Adrien took a long, deep breath as he stepped outside. He had missed the Parisian air. To most people it probably seemed like any big city, but to him it was special. There was something about the scent, and how it felt going into his lungs. It just felt good and like home.

He started walking towards the subway. Nino had asked where he was going and he had just said that he was going to see an old friend. Because how else would you explain visiting an almost 200 year old man and the ancient being who used to turn him into a cat themed superhero?

When he arrived at the subway he was very happy to find a mostly empty cart where he could position himself as far away from others as possible. He didn’t want to be close to anyone in case they could smell the stinky camembert from his bag. It had been a long time since he last had to worry about that. He remembered being a teenager and getting questions from some of his less sensitive classmates why he always smelled. He also remembered being very embarrassed and sometimes irritated that the only thing Plagg ate was that stinky cheese.

Before long Adrien stood outside the door to Master Fu’s apartment. He knocked.

“Come in”

Slowly he opened the door and peered inside. He saw Master Fu, whom he apparently had disturbed mid-meditation, and they both smiled at each other.

“Chat Noir, welcome” Fu said and motioned for him to go inside.

“You can just call me Adrien, I’m not Chat Noir anymore” Adrien pointed out as he sat down in front of the old man.

“You will always be Chat Noir in one way or another” he argued. “I suspect from the smell that you came to see not only me, but Plagg too”

Adrien nodded and Master Fu stood up to bring out the Miraculous Box. As soon as it was out he handed Adrien the Black Cat Miraculous and he slipped it onto his finger, welcoming the familiar feeling.

Out of nowhere, Plagg appeared.

“Kid!” he exclaimed and flew forward to hug Adrien’s face. It was apparent that he had missed his wielder a whole lot, at least until he said the next thing. “Did you bring the goods?”

Adrien laughed and brought out two camembert wheels from his bag. Plagg’s eyes shined with excitement as he happily started munching away.

“Finally! Fu never buys the good camembert” he said with a glare towards Master Fu.

“That’s because you have a very expensive taste, Plagg” he said before turning back his attention to Adrien. “How have you been? Are your studies abroad going well?”

“They were” Adrien replied. “But I decided it was about time I moved back home, so I’ll be finishing them off here in Paris”

Plagg let out a loud sigh of relief. “Finally, you can come with camembert so much more often”

Adrien chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Anything for you, Plagg” he said.

Plagg just hummed, but Adrien took it as a grateful hum, before he changed the subject entirely. “What are your friends up to? Music-boy, the Ladyblogger and Pigtails” he said and Adrien knew he was purposefully leaving out Chloé whom he’d always found annoying.

“They’re all working hard, I guess. Nino has been DJing at some club and Marinette has the chance to be featured in an issue of Style Queen, you know, the magazine. Alya is running a new blog that she wants to turn into an online newspaper, and she’s searching for Ladybug and Chat Noir” he ended the sentence sounding a bit sheepish.

Plagg just laughed. “That girl never gives up” he managed to get out.

“It seems like life is going well for all of them” Master Fu said, completely ignoring the Kwami. “But what is going on in your life? Have you perhaps found love?”

Adrien blushed. Master Fu always seemed to know those things.

“I… well, I’ve been thinking of asking Marinette out” he said and looked away, therefore missing the knowing look Plagg and Master Fu shared.

“Then what are you waiting for, kid?” Plagg asked, flying so that he was right in front of Adrien’s face. “Do it!”

“I will! I’m just waiting for the right timing!”

“Don’t let your plans stay plans if you want to live them” Master Fu said and Adrien sighed.

“Fine” he said and took his phone up from his pocket. “I’ll ask her right now”

Master Fu and Plagg both nodded approvingly. Adrien looked at his phone, starting to type out a message.

[Adrien | 12:47] – What are you doing tonight?

[Marinette | 12:47] – Probably just binging on netflix, why?

Adrien took a deep breath.

[Adrien | 12:48] – I was wondering if you would like to go out with me

[Adrien | 12:48] – On a date I mean

He held his breath and felt his hands go clammy as he watched the little dots indicating that she was writing a reply.

[Marinette | 12:49] – I would love to

He broke out into a huge grin, immediately planning mentally everything they would do. He once again missed the looks Master Fu and Plagg shared.  

“I have to go” Adrien said as he hurriedly gathered his things. “I’ll be back soon, yes with more camembert” he said before Plagg had the chance to remind him. “It’s been good to see you again! Bye Plagg”

Plagg gave him a smile before he pulled off the ring and handed it back to Master Fu.

“Have fun, you deserve this” the old man said and Adrien smiled gratefully before rushing out of the door and practically running to get back to Nino’s apartment in record time.

He would need advice on how to plan the perfect date, and Nino had taken Alya on loads so he would know.

The entire way back Adrien couldn’t stop smiling.

[callisofcamelot]

sunlight through broken glass

pairing: hort x beatrix

setting: modern au, canada, uhhhhh they’re like in their twenties??? (this isn’t even a setting but you get it)

notes: im not dead!! *insert surprised pikachu face* this also isn’t edited at all, it’s a hot mess but please enjoy.

word count: 1342

part 1/??? (ooooo me making a new series i’ll never finish)

*****

It’s not that much a surprise, and it’s not even bad.

When she looks through the mail and finds it. Beatrix doesn't have to open it to know it's the divorce papers. Chaddick had moved out months ago, leaving their too big home to herself (which was right in the mountains, and Beatrix hated mountains. But if he knew things like that maybe they wouldn't be here in the first place). The home was okay. . . but the smell.

God.

It was horrible.

Everything smelled like him. His favorite cologne was embedded in the walls and even gallons of bleach and millions of Bath and Body Works candles couldn't get rid of it. Beatrix can’t stand it and it hurts so much, and she's a big girl and big girls don't cry but nowadays all she does is cry.

She texts Millie and Reena, and they both tell her they'll be there in a few seconds.

But it's not even that bad, she tells herself. It's not like the time Tedros basically led her on for years and then broke it in a single second.

So here's the inciting incident. She's fifteen and has shelves filled with romance novels and watches One Tree Hill and Gilmore Girls religiously and doodles her crushes names on her binder and she's just fifteen.

Tedros was supposed to be her soulmate. It just made sense to her. Their parents were friends and they’ve known each other forever and childhood friends always fall in love. Right?

She stands in her mother's heels that she stole and a dress that cost far too much just for a dance. Beatrix knows she's beautiful, she's always known she's beautiful, but at this moment she doesn't feel like it, because what is beauty if no ones there to admire it?

It's nothing, she realises an hour into the night.

The punch in her hands is cool but so is her heart, so maybe that's a good thing. She is fifteen and has never really felt this feeling before, she has never felt the sight of Tedros dancing with Agatha, Tedros laughing with Agatha, Tedros looking at Agatha like that, she has never felt this kind of . . . betrayal.

Beatrix feels the knife in her heart, a merciless cold blade that seems to leave a gaping hole in her chest. She is bleeding out while drinking Hawaiian Punch, and perhaps that isn't the worst way to die, but at this moment it sure feels like it. Tears prick her eyes, and she hopes she will turn invisible because at this moment Beatrix isn't the most beautiful girl in the room, she's the most heartbroken.

People can see it because people always see the things you don't want them too.

"Bee," a voice says carefully, a hand slowly being stuck out in front of her. "Do you wanna dance."

She turns her head to Chaddick. Chaddick who has always teased her and never really cared for her, with this crooked smile and messy amber hair and his eyes that are the ocean during a storm. Yet at this moment he looks small and awkward, and very much a teenage boy filled with too many emotions and not enough words.

She gives him her hand. "Okay."

That's the start of them, and you see she hears years later about what would've happened if she'd have said no to him, but that's a story for another time.

-

Millie makes her a cake because that's what she does.

It's a chocolate cake, and it tastes so fucking good, and Beatrix doesn't care it'll take her hours of pilates to work off the calories, because this makes her feel good.

God knows that she deserves to indulge at least a bit.

"Did you know twenty-eight is the prime age of women," Millie says, while they all sit on the couch drinking some hundred dollar wine she got for an anniversary. "You’re super fertile and attractive and funny and smart and like look at your body man, it's bangin'."

It makes her cry, and the fact she's on her period makes her hormones go crazy. "Then, god, why'd he leave."

"He was pretty dumb," Millie mumbles.

"I know," she says. "But he tried, he made me laugh, sometimes made smoothies, and treated me so nicely, and well, his abs were really nice."

Reena rubs her arm. "It's gonna be ok. We'll get through this, we always do." She believes Reena, not only because she's really smart and is married and has kids, but also because Reena is her best friend. "What're you in the mood for Bee," she asks, she flips through movies, thousands of them from her and Chaddicks daily movie nights. It's a collection of them from the past five years, like a mixtape of them living together. "I'm kinda leaning on something Disney."

Her eyes pick something in the sea of thousands, it's a movie that wasn't apart of the mixtape, it's apart of something completely different.

"Put on, The Fantastic Mr. Fox."

-

Beatrix is nineteen, and she's freshly single, and very much ready to mingle.

Her and Chaddick’s long distant relationship ends, and for some strange reason, she isn't upset. But of course she doesn't tell anyone, because that would make her a horrible person, and for some reason, though popularity was left in high school she still puts far too much effort in putting up appearances.

Going into university, Beatrix is alone for the first time. It's her fault for choosing one where none of her friends are going, but for some strange reason, she doesn't mind. She's been surrounded by people her whole life, but now she's free, and it feels good, well until it doesn't.

It's a Friday night and instead of partying she's in the library studying, and it sounds sad and terrible and it is but she's not even that upset.

Ok, that's a lie.

She's a tiny bit upset.

But doesn't try to tell anyone that.

(Even if she wanted to she couldn’t because Reena and Millie are building schools in Asia, and they have no service for the next two weeks)

She stares at her textbook, Policy In The New Age, trying to get all the knowledge to somehow magically go into her brain (it hasn't worked for the last 20 minutes but who knows, maybe that'll change).

"Beatrix," a voice suddenly says to her out of nowhere, she turns her head and is greeted by two long legs and she has to look up and god it's Hort, but it's not him at all. He's so tall, and tan, and almost muscular in some areas, yet still gangly, and his smile is the same because she recognizes those dimples, and god he got hot. "Haven't seen you in such a long time."

Her mouth has forgotten to talk because human interaction has become rare for her, and she feels so dumb, but all she can do is stare at him.

He frowns. "Something wrong?"

Then her brain finally starts to work. "No," she croaks out. "I'm just tired and very bored."

"That's great," he says, and lord she regrets thinking he was hot this is-- "Oh, fuck, that's not actually great it's just I'm very tired and bored too, so . . . like, I don't know, but would you-well, like to go to this new Chinese place around the block."

She has to blink a few times before she can comprehend what he just said, and then, she smiles. "Yes please, anything than this."

He smiles and it's familiar and comforting, and she likes it.

(Hort tells her while they're walking to the restaurant about a film that includes foxes. He tells her it's his favorite movie in the whole world when she says she's never watched it, he seems appalled and invites her over to his dorm to watch it. That where it starts, the movie that is them.)

-

Beatrix is drunk by eight.

(She also has always believed alcohol makes her spontaneous, not dumb. So that's why she emails him.)

Hey Hort!!

What's up.

From Beatrix.

(Her email writing skills have never been good, she doesn't wanna talk about it.)

[yxppeo]

wait for me

pairing: hyunjin x reader

genre: angst, fluff

au: friends to lovers, breakup, college

summary: you thought you’d never see your first love ever again

you and hyunjin go way back

i mean way way back

so let’s have some background about you two

you two met each other in middle school

you were assigned to sit next to him in your science class

and you befriended him right away

you both found a common interest in video games

“is that gta?” you asked hyunjin, pointing out the doodles on his papers

“y-yeah. you like video games?” he said as his eyes lit up

you nodded eagerly

“yes! i love them!”

and since then you two would talk about different video games when you got to class and before the teacher started her lesson

you were more on the tomboy side

so being around hyunjin was comfortable

like you were one of the guys

and the two of you became best friends

hyunjin was always at your side

you two would send each other horrible jokes

“do you want to hear a joke about pizza?”

“let me guess hyunjin, it’s too cheesy?”

“y/n! i was supposed to say that!”

overtime, you two were really close

and you started to develop a crush on him

it started with a classmate that sat near you and hyunjin

you two were laughing as always

when jisung goes

“when are you two going to start dating?” he jokes

you both stopped laughing

and started blushing

around wintertime, your best friend, nayoung, found out that a certain hwang hyunjin had a crush on a certain y/n

of course she told you, and you were red the whole day when your other friend, hyeri, wouldn’t stop teasing you

you kept your giggles to yourself, even with hyunjin around

continuing your jokes, despite your heart beating really fast the whole time

and after science class, he walked you to your next class

and that’s when you confessed to him

“jinnie, i like you.” you said quietly but loud enough only for him to hear

hyunjin smiled widely

“i like you too y/n.” he replied as he ruffled your hair

you walked into your english class with pink cheeks and a big grin

“what happened? did you tell him?” hyeri asked

“he likes me too.” you simply said

causing hyeri to hug you in happiness

hyunjin was the cutest and dorkiest boyfriend

he was shy to hold your hand

and when he did

it would be under the lunch tables as the teachers walked by

he would send you pick up lines that would only make you blush even more

you showed him a love song that reminded you of him

he was blushing while listening to the words

your first date with him was at an amusement park

it was filled with smiles and food

running around to find the different attractions

buying many toys and charms

you bought a snoopy plushie that both of you picked out

you thought it was cute

and it reminded you of hyunjin

you two went on a few rides, like the viking and bumper cars

but at the top of the roller coaster that you convinced hyunjin a thousand times to ride

before the carts could push everyone into the rest of the ride

you suddenly kissed his cheek

making him blush as you screamed in excitement when you accelerated through the tracks

don’t worry

at the top of the ferris wheel, he paid you back by kissing you on the cheek too

making you blush

over the months, you were so happy and in love with him

hyunjin was your first love

and your first kiss

he planted a quick kiss on the lips in front of your friends at your birthday party

immediately followed by screams from said friends

there were many kisses that came after that

in school, he would sneak you to where no one would see you two

or made sure there were no teachers

and he would give you a sweet kiss on the lips

which drove you insane for a fourteen year old

over the next few months, you and hyunjin didn’t talk that much

was it because of schoolwork?

was it because you two were too busy in your hobbies?

you honestly don’t remember

but you knew that you and hyunjin were drifting apart

and sadly

the summer after eighth grade ended

you and hyunjin broke up

hyunjin said that you two weren’t close as you were before

and as sad as you were

you decided not to fight it

and let him be

you remembered crying in your mom’s and dad’s arms

crying in nayoung’s arms as she visited you to make sure you were okay

crying as you saw your old yearbook filled with signatures and messages about you and hyunjin being together forever

tears falling where hyunjin wrote ‘i love you’ as he tried to draw you

laughing as you felt a bittersweet feeling in your heart

thankfully you felt better as time went on

freshman year of high school was so weird

your other peers were just learning that you and hyunjin were no longer together

and it was weird seeing him in a few of your classes

but you both remembered you were friends at first

so you tried to get along with him

it did work most of the time

especially when you were in a group with him

and had to do a project with him

but then you caught feelings again

you missed his hugs

his kisses

his cheesy jokes

unfortunately he did not miss yours

and it became awkward

you two didn’t talk for a long time

you returned your snoopy plushy to hyunjin at school since that was the only time you could see him

and you swore you could see the pain in his eyes as he saw what was in the gift bag

the only time you talked was at the end of the year, joking around like you did in middle school

at least you two weren’t strangers to each other

you felt relieved

but then you remembered one thing

he was moving schools

although it pains you

it also gave you some closure on your relationship with hyunjin

sophomore year came

then junior year

then senior year

you never contacted hyunjin

but he was following your social media

he became more handsome

taller

he worked out more

but he was still the game-loving dork you loved years ago

you also changed too

you swapped out your ugly glasses with contacts

you swapped your old wardrobe for a new style

you discovered how to apply makeup

and even dyed your hair a whole different color

you were a whole new woman

you didn’t really date anyone after hyunjin

hell

you haven’t even kissed anyone since hyunjin

deciding not to focus on relationships

especially since you were starting college

and you really want to focus on your studies and finding a stable job

you went through your first week with a breeze

seeing your old friends even tho it’s just been months since you’ve seen them

smelling the sweet coffee being made by the baristas as you go on your laptop

you got home when you heard your phone ring

‘hyvnjxn sent you a message.’

you had to do a double take

“is that who i think it is?”

you responded to it

and started a conversation with him

“it’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“yeah, it has. how have you been?”

you were shocked that you were actually talking to your ex

your first love

and you two weren’t awkward with each other

at all

it’s like those three years of not contacting each other happened

like you two were still good friends

you were talking to him as if he was one of your best friends

typing in all caps

smashing the keyboard

you found out that hyunjin wanted to serve in the navy

while you wanted to be in criminal justice and become a detective

“i never saw you as an army kind of guy”

“yeah, well i never saw you as a cop”

“…shut up lmao”

you also learned that he moved across the country

so sometimes he would message you while you were sleeping

but it was a nice thing to wake up to

the next few months have been hectic

you were balancing college with your part-time job

and although it can be stressful

hyunjin was there to message you and make sure you were okay

and if you needed to vent

he was there to listen

you both would skype a few times

whether it was just talking to each other face to face while doing homework

or playing games and yelling at each other

“hyunjin you missed that guy! now you gotta run to the other side before his teammates get you!”

“i’m trying my best here! let me live y/n!”

everyday, you kept talking to hyunjin

and before you even knew it

it was time for hyunjin to leave the country to go into the navy

you skyped him for a bit during your break in between classes

“you’re leaving already!”

“i know, i’m so sad.”

“who am i gonna cry to when i don’t have the motivation to do my readings or yell at when i’m playing games?”

hyunjin laughed

“it’s only gonna be two years, then i’ll be back to be yelled at by you.” he smiled

you pouted

“i’m so glad I talked to you – to have you back in my life again.” hyunjin said

you blushed at his words

good thing your laptop camera isn’t that good

“i could say the same to you. i mean, we used to date, you were my first love. i didn’t think i would see you again.”

hyunjin smiled

“you were my first love too. i didn’t think i would even have the balls to talk to you again.” he joked

you two kept talking for another five minutes

“hey, y/n, i really have to go, but i’ll talk to you later?”

“of course. bye hyunjin!” you smiled as you clicked on the end call button

you sighed

“i’m not supposed to love you again.” you thought to yourself

after finishing your last class, you drove home

drowning your thoughts in your music

you sulked into your living room

“why are you so sad for?” a voice called out

you jumped, holding your fists into the air

turning around to see hyunjin with wide eyes

“whoa there. it’s just me.” hyunjin said with his hands up

“h-hyunjin? is that you?!” you said, running towards him

wrapping your arms around his torso

“it’s nice to see you too y/n.” he giggled, engulfing you into a bear hug

you pulled away from him

“what are you doing here?”

“i’m gonna be leaving soon, so why not spend a few days here, with you?”

“with me?”

hyunjin nodded

“yes you, silly. now go get ready!” he said, pushing you towards the stairs

after getting ready and whatnot, you and hyunjin hung out at the mall

eating lunch at the cafe located in it

your friends were spamming you the moment you posted a snap of him

but you didn’t care to answer

you were caught in the moment

looking at hyunjin who sipped on his drink in front of you

you had a bubbly feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time

yet it felt so familiar

“stop looking at me.” hyunjin joked

shaking your thoughts away

“i’m sorry! it’s just feels like a dream. are you really here in front of me?” you said, poking his cheek

hyunjin grabbed your hand, wrapping it with his

“yes, i really am here.”

the next day, hyunjin picked you up from school, and headed straight towards the pier

the same pier with the amusement park you and hyunjin went to on your very first date with each other

“hyunjin!” you called out as he parked the car

you felt tears building up

hyunjin giggled as he unbuckled his seatbelt

“i’m glad you remembered. now come on!”

you two ran into the park like little children

holding hands

“remember when we kissed each other’s cheeks on the roller coaster and the ferris wheel?” hyunjin asked

making you blush a bit

“yes! we were so young back then. look at how much the park has changed.”

you two enjoyed the park’s new attractions

playing the games that took half of your spending money

but it was worth it when hyunjin won you a huge teddy bear

“hyunjin, it’s not gonna fit in your small car!”

“but it’ll fit in your room.” he winked

causing you to slap his shoulder, trying to hide your blushing face

you and hyunjin decided to ride on the roller coaster

the infamous cheek-kissing ride

“you still scared of roller coasters?” you teased hyunjin

“hey! i am not!” he whined

and yet here you two were at the very top of the roller coaster

you really had the balls to look down and look at hyunjin

“you sure you’re not scared?” you smirked

“a little, but i’m not scared of doing this.”

before you could even breathe to ask him what he’s talking about

he quickly cupped your face and planted his lips onto yours

you melted into the kiss as the carts moved forward at a fast speed

screams from other riders blasting through the park

but everything felt like it was in slow-motion

like it was just you and hyunjin in the world

he pulled back near the end of the ride

leaving you looking like a tomato

hyunjin was grabbing your things when you grabbed his hand

interlacing your fingers together

hyunjin smiled as he pulled you away and into the park again

enjoying the night winds

hyunjin dropped you off home, walking you to your door

“i’ll see you tomorrow at the airport?” he said, inches away from you

you felt your heart break a little

you forgot that hyunjin was leaving tomorrow for the navy

“yeah.” you breathed out

“good night y/n.” he said, deeply looking into your eyes

you lifted yourself up with your toes

pulling hyunjin for a kiss

you stayed in that position for a while

until you pulled back and opened the door

leaving hyunjin in a dazed state

you went into your room, placing down the huge bear in the corner of your room, and cried yourself to sleep

despite having the most amazing day ever with hyunjin

the next day rolled in

you found yourself in the freezing airport

you were waiting with hyunjin as he rested on your shoulder

his family that stayed on your side of the country was with you two

waiting for his departure as well

his flight was leaving in half an hour

you looked through your phone

until you heard the call for his flight

“hyunjin, wake up.” you said quietly, patting his cheek

he stirred in his sleep as he slowly got up

“it’s time to go.” you said with a small, yet painful smile

hyunjin reflected your smile, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb

you walked him to his terminal

“i guess this is goodbye.” hyunjin said

that bittersweet feeling you knew too well filled your body

you couldn’t say anything to him

you just hugged him, squeezing him tightly

letting your tears ruin his shirt

“i’m gonna miss you a lot.” you said, muffled by his chest

hyunjin chuckled

“i’ll call you when i can.” he said

you looked up at him

hyunjin instantly wiped your tears with his thumbs

giving you the sweetest smile

“wait for me.” he quietly said, kissing your forehead

“i love you.” he added

“i love you too hyunjin.” you said, trying not to choke up

he pulled away, said his goodbyes to his family and started walking towards the boarding bridge

you sniffled as he turned around and waved to you

you couldn’t help but smile as more tears ran down your face as you watched him walk through the doorway

but wait, there’s more

two years without physically seeing hyunjin seemed like forever

but you distracted yourself with your friends, schoolwork, and your job

you were in your third year of university

you found a paid internship at the police department

and they guaranteed you a position after you graduate from the police academy

you were ahead of your classes, so that meant a lot of down time for you

you hung out with your friends on weekends doing whatever you felt like doing

whether it was shopping

eating

or watching cheesy romcoms

which reminded you of hyunjin

laughing to yourself as you remembered you both loved horror and action movies more

your friends were quite shocked at how well you were doing without him

but little did they know

you two were still in contact

you never told them about your late night skype calls whenever he was available

you two would eat while video chatting

taking him with you while you ran errands

even falling asleep while on the call

“y/n, you haven’t been on a date in forever!” nayoung yelled

“you haven’t dated anyone since hyunjin, and he’s literally the only guy you’ve dated.” hyeri said

“i am literally right next to you. i can hear you loud and clear.” you said, rubbing your ears as you and your best friends continued walking through campus

“yeah, why don’t we set you up with that cute guy from your english class?” hyeri added in, taking in a bite of her sandwich

“i’m not interested.” you chuckled

“you haven’t even tried to mingle with anyone once during college, and we have a year left here.”

“you even shot down the guy who was totally flirting with you when we were shopping.”

“i thought he was being nice!” you exclaimed

“but seriously, it’s no big deal. you don’t have to worry about my love life.”

“you sure you don’t want me to find someone for you?”

“i can hook you up!”

you looked ahead to see a tall figure wearing camouflage

instantly making eye contact with them

once you realized who it was

you two broke into the biggest smiles

“i think i’ll be just fine.”

you ran towards the figure and leaped onto him

wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as he lifted you up

not caring that there were people staring

“hyunjin!” you said as tears were already spilling from your eyes

“holy shit.” nayoung and hyeri said as their jaws dropped

“i see you’ve missed me badly.” hyunjin laughed as he held you

“of course i did!” you said as he lowered you onto the ground

planting a sweet and chaste kiss on your lips

you couldn’t help but blush at the familiar feeling

“i hope you didn’t wait for me for too long.” hyunjin said

“for you, i’d wait forever.”

[trade-baby-blues]

The White Elephant in the Room

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 2237

Warnings: none, probably a swear in there somewhere

A/N: Based on the prompt “Character A’s best friend rigs the Secret Santa, because they know Character A has a crush on Character B” requested by @magicalaquarian. Hope you enjoy!!

After two years travelling through space with nothing but the stark white walls of the Enterprise to look at, the crew was getting restless. Shore leave was still months away, and, frankly you didn't know if you could take it. You didn't think Jim could either. He was in Medbay almost every other day with a new “injury,” though more than once you caught him faking to shirk his duties for the day. While you were happy for a distraction, Dr. McCoy looked ready to kill Jim at any moment.

As the doors to the Medbay slid open for the first time today, you jumped out of your chair, hoping with all your heart and soul that someone needed help with a traumatic injury, not stopping to wonder if that made you a bad person. At this point, you were so bored you were willing to inflict one upon yourself just for the hell of it. To your dismay, it was just Jim. You sat back down with a sigh, returning to the scribbles you were doodling on a patient's chart.

“Gee, you sure know how to make a guy feel welcome,” Jim quipped.

At the sound of a new voice, Dr. McCoy poked his head out of his office. His excitement turned to a scowl as he saw Jim. He glared at Jim with a pointed “No,” before shutting his door again.

“Oh, come on. I’m not even sick today.”

“That's the problem,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry. Would it be better if I came back with broken legs?”

“Broken legs. Crashed the ship. Caused a minor outbreak of some foreign disease,” you shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

“So let me get this right. You're mad at me because I'm too good of a captain?”

You dropped your head onto the desk, groaning in frustration. “We’re mad because we have nothing to do.”

Jim sidled up to the side of the desk, mischievous glint in his eye. “You and Bones could give each other physicals.”

“We already did that,” you confessed, cheeks heating up.

“Well, then, I guess you'll just have to come to my quarters tonight.”

“For the last time Jim, I am not having sex with you.”

“I...It's not...Scotty said the same thing. Why does everyone think I want to have sex with them?” Jim looked genuinely hurt. “It's a party but you're not invited anymore.”

“What time does it start,” you called after him as he walked back to the Medbay doors.

“9 p.m. Oh,” Jim said, popping his head back inside, “and bring a present. It's a white elephant.”

You stared at the now empty doorway in confusion. The doors slid shut with almost no sound, allowing your voice to carry across the empty room. “What the fuck is a white elephant?”

Dr. McCoy sat back at his desk with a sigh, the paperwork in front of him dwindling thin. The past few weeks had been exceptionally quiet, and he’d managed to catch up on all the charts he’d let slip by. He even had time to read a few articles he’d bookmarked months ago on the future of robot-assisted surgeries. As much as he appreciated how far technology had come, Leonard was happy to stick with a human surgical assist for now. Especially, if that assistant was you. How you looked so damn good in OR scrubs Leonard would never understand.

His PADD chimed, bringing Leonard back to reality. Jim again. He rolled his eyes, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows and diving back into paperwork. Another chime. Leonard glared at the PADD, as if that would stop Jim from pestering him. Another chime. Annoyed, he grabbed the device.

Party at my room at 9!

That's an order ;)

Oh, and bring a present for your not so secret crush! We’re doing a gift exchange.

Leonard resisted the urge to snap the PADD in two as he responded: Stop by for a physical. Must be something wrong with that corn-fed head of yours if you think I want to spend my night with you.

Jim responded almost instantly: :(

Bones stared at the text practically able to feel the puppy dog eyes Jim was giving him through the screen. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to unwind, and an evening with Jim might actually be tolerable if you were there. Painfully, he typed his reply: There better be Scotch.

No sooner had he sent the message than there was a knock on his door. “Damn it, Jim,” he sighed, shoving himself up from his desk, “What is it? I already said I’d go to your damn party.”

“Sorry,” you said, popping your head around the door. “Not Jim.”

Bones scoffed. “That’s nothing to be sorry for, sugar. I’d take your company over his any day.”

You bit your lip to hide a smile. “Jim’s actually the reason I’m bothering you. I wanted to ask if I could take off early to find a gift for his elephant thing.”

“Gee, don’t know if I’ll be able to handle all these patients on my own,” Bones said wryly.

“Well, you are the CMO. I believe in you,” you said with a wink. “See you at the party?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bones waved you off, already heading back to his desk. You laughed. He really was adorable when he was grumpy.

“Oh, and Len,” you said, missing the way his ears always perked up when you called him that, “maybe break out the civvies this time. Med Blues make people nervous.”

You looked around your quarters in a desperate attempt to find inspiration. It’s not like you thought to pack gifts when you started the mission. There were a few books you’d already read through that could use a new home, but you doubted anyone would be interested in Mountains to Ash: A Field Guide to the Geology of Ragnar 9, although, the section on teracalcite formation was quite compelling...

“This is stupid,” you muttered, dropping yourself on the bed. You stared at the ceiling, begging it to give you an answer. You wondered what kind of gifts everyone else would bring. Jim probably wouldn’t bring anything, making a joke about how his presence was gift enough. Then he’d offer someone a few days off and everyone would scramble for it. Scotty would probably throw together a little sculpture out of scrap metal from Engineering. No one saw that side of him much, but Scotty was really artsy.

Then, there was Leonard. He was normally such a thoughtful gift giver when given enough time. Last shore leave, he found a galaxy opal pendant for you at a market. You still remembered how his hands felt brushing the back of your neck when he put it on you, how they lingered a few seconds too long. How warm his breath felt ghosting over the back of your neck. An inch closer and his chest would’ve been pressed against you and it would have been so easy to turn around and kiss him like you’ve wanted to do for so long.

“I need a drink,” you said to the empty room, running a hand down your face. Suddenly, you shot up, remembering the bottle of whiskey you had stashed in the back of your closet. Hopefully everyone else was feeling as stir-crazy as you and wouldn’t mind a bit was missing.

Having finally settled on a gift, you started getting ready, allowing yourself plenty of time to shower and get dressed but still managing to wind up at Jim’s door out of breath and late. You smoothed the front of your dress down and focused on leveling your breathing as the door slid open. Your eyes met Leonard’s and, just like that, you were out of breath again.

It was a simple outfit, but god did he wear it well. His t-shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, front tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans that clung to his thighs like they were painted on. You sure wouldn’t mind sitting on those. “You know how to clean up,” you smiled, taking the opportunity to lean up and press a kiss to Leonard’s cheek. The smell of his cologne left you lightheaded in all the right ways.

“Mama always said dress to impress.”

“Oh, and who are you trying to impress,” you teased. You saw the faintest blush creep into Leonard’s cheeks, but before he could answer, Jim was whisking the two of you to the kitchenette.

Everyone was sitting around the island, already a few drinks in and eager to see what gift they were going to get. Jim divvied them out, sliding you a small package poorly wrapped in elastic bandage. “From your secret admirer,” he winked at you. Busy studying the package, you missed Bones kick Jim under the counter.

The gift exchange was more fun than you thought it would be. Chekov got an unopened box of Kit Kats that sent the room into an uproar. It was stolen five times before Jim threw his captain card into the ring and claimed it for himself. He almost immediately regretted it when he had to give up his present, which turned out to be the bottle of whiskey you’d anted up.

After a lot of squabbling, everyone opened their presents and all eyes were on you. You grabbed the end of the bandage and began unwrapping the parcel in your hand. You knew it was from Bones, and for that reason alone you were loathe to give it up. As you reached the end of the bandage, a small booklet fell onto the countertop.

Handmade was the nicest way to describe it: the pages were uneven and stuck out at odd angles from being stapled together in a hurry. To anyone else, the script would barely be legible, but you had plenty of practice deciphering Leonard’s chicken scratch.

“It's a coupon book,” you announced, thumbing through the pages. “Ooh, you might want this one Jim. It says you can put off the yearly physical for up to a month. No, no this one’s better. It says Leonard will actually smile for an entire day.”

“Lemme see that,” Jim said, already tearing the book from your hands. He stopped flipping through it and snapped his eyes up to Leonard’s face, grinning devilishly. “A full body massage in your private quarters. Bones. If I didn't know any better I’d say you were trying to get our good friend here naked.” Bones closed his eyes but remained silent. The flare of his nostrils and tightening of his jaw said enough.

“Oh, I want that,” Sulu cut in. “I am in desperate need of a massage.” He reached across the counter to grab the book from Jim but you reached it first.

“Take it and you’ll need more than a massage to set you straight.”

Sulu remained in place, looking from you to Jim hesitantly. “Is that a gay joke or…” Uhura coughed loudly, grabbing his attention. She whispered something in his ear and he glanced from you to Bones. “That makes so much sense. Never mind,” he grinned. “I’ll find a masseuse when we go on leave.”

You held the book tighter against your chest as you looked around the room. Every eye was on you or Leonard. Everyone seemed to be grinning at an inside joke the two of you weren’t in on. Well, everyone except Bones, who looked as uncomfortable as you did.

“Right,” you said, clicking your tongue to dispel the silence. “So I’m gonna go.” You inched away from the counter, waving awkwardly.

“Yeah, I think I, uh. I think I’m gonna join ya,” Bones said, trying his best to ignore the scattered snickers that followed.

You waited until you were far enough down the hall to be confident no one was listening in before you spoke again: “What was that all about?”

“Nothing Jim isn’t gonna pay for later. Look, I…” Leonard sighed, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He ran a hand through his hair and you had to bite back a whine. It really was unfair that he looked so good, even under fluorescent lights. “Jim told me the gift was for you, and I couldn’t think of anything else. You don’t have to use those coupons if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I want to. As much as you joke about your legendary hands, it’s about time I got to try them out.”

“No, that’s not - what I’m trying to get at is-”

“Leonard,” you said gently, resting your hand on his elbow. You slid your fingers down his bare arm, relishing in the way your fingertips felt running over his skin. You watched your fingers interlock as if through a looking glass. Like this was a dream and you never wanted to wake up. “I think I know what you’re getting at, and if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to cash in on that full body massage tonight.” You peeked up at him through your lashes.

Leonard squeezed your hand, fighting against every nerve in his body that was screaming at him to run you back to his room. Instead, he brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, wondering if the rest of your skin would feel so electric. “I think that can be arranged.”

Tags:  @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch @sjlovestory @kristaparadowski @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @brooke-taylor0323 @slither-in-a-half @cuddlememerrick @reading-in-moonlight @resistance-is-futile81 

This! Is a galaxy opal: 

[mentallyinwalmart]

‘Dear Thomas’

A follow up to my last fic, ‘Dear Liza’ 

in this one, you get those same events from the point of view of Daci and Thomas~

My Dearest Brother,

I know you only left a week ago, but I already miss you loads. I’m bummed you didn’t get to meet my flatmates, they are positively lovely, but I guess that’s what I get for moving in a week early just so you could help me :) One of my flatmates, I believe is related to your summer employer. Her name is Eliza Wadsworth and she is just wonderful. She says she has a cousin who goes to your school. Isn’t that funny? What a small world. I doubt you’ll see much of her, there are so many students at the school, I just thought it was a funny coincidence.

If I timed this right, this letter should be arriving the day of, or the day after your orientation. So, how was it? Tell me the three most interesting deductions you made.

As for my orientation, I spotted two people who clearly did not get along in high school shooting each other glares across the group, a professor who actively checked out his female students with his wife on his arm!!! And a girl who appeared to be pregnant, but hiding it. That was most interesting, because at first I thought she just had some sort of lower back pain, and that’s why she stood the way she did, but after a little bit, when she refused the champagne we were offered and kept shooting nervous glances at her parents, it all fell into place.

Love, your favorite sister,

Daciana Cresswell

Ps- have you seen Ileana? I miss her terribly and wonder how she’s holding up.

--

Dear Daci,

I have met both of Dr Wadsworth nieces before. I remember Liza as bubbly and kind, I’m surprised you in all your emo brooding like her so much. As for Audrey Rose (the other niece), I saw her today at orientation. Before you get some idea in your head about me remembering her for any superficial reason, I only recognized her because I saw her standing between Dr Wadsworth and the man I can only assume to have been her father.

I was preoccupied with your challenge while I was descending the stairs and ended up slipping and making quite a fool of myself. I couldn’t bring myself to go and greet Dr Wadsworth after that, so I stuck to the back of the group.

I have to say, Daci, you May have me bested with that girls secret pregnancy. My three best observations were that Dr Wadsworth lingered awfully close to miss Wadsworth, and doted on her more than her father. It was subtle, but I dare say he thinks of her as a daughter as well. I also noticed a girl I (correctly) assumed, to be Audrey Rose’s roommate recognize her at the very beginning of the orientation, and spend the first hour working up the nerve to go over and speak to her. And finally, dear sister, I noted that miss Wadsworth’s roommate was awfully preoccupied with her phone, glancing at it every five minutes, flushing slightly and quickly responding to messages she was receiving. I only assume she was talking to someone whose opinion she valued grately.

Did I mention, dear Daci, that Audrey Rose’s new roommate is none other than our old friend Ileana?

I don’t know whether I hope it was you she was texting or not.

Love always,

Your favorite brother

—

Dear Thomas,

I don’t even know where to start with you, you absolute scrub.

Of course it was me texting Ileana. Don’t even pretend you didn’t know. You’ve known her three odd years, I’m pretty sure you’ve mastered reading her. Can you blame me, Thomas? We broke up because we wanted to have the opportunity to grow at Uni and not be tied to one another, but it’s unbearable. You know more than anyone how wonderful she is.

As for Miss Wadsworth, you seem quite taken, at least with her appearance. I don’t think any amount of second-hand embarrassment would phase the stoic Dr Wadsworth (unless you’ve lied to me about him in his entirety), which leads me to deduce that you were mortified to go and speak to him after embarrassing yourself so profusely in front of his niece.

Don’t be an absolute fool about this Thomas, you can be a perfect gentlemen when you want to be, and I have no doubt you could easily charm Miss Wadsworth into bed (since I know for a fact you are not a relationship man).

Now, onto my favorite topic, us being reunited. Liza and I have decided to make a trip down from Paris to London so I might see you and she can see Audrey. So please, for the sake of our friendship, if you do sleep with Audrey, at least call her after? I’d be terribly inconvenienced if my favorite flatmate were to hate me by association.

Love you, and see you after midterms.

Daciana

Ps- you calling me emo and brooding is like the kettle calling the pot black.

—

Dear Daci,

How dare you reduce me to nothing more than a womanizer. You know for a fact I have never hooked up with someone and not called them. In fact, usually it’s others not calling me back. I am constantly being used for my body.

Besides, Miss Wadsworth, it would seem, can't stand me. So, I believe I’m far from charming her.

Ileana and I got coffee this afternoon, and she filled me in on the information you have been so selfishly withholding. She told me about the day you have planned when you “come to visit me” in a few weeks. Be honest, Daci, is missing me just an excuse for you to make the trip to see Illy on fathers dime?

I promise I won’t be mad, in fact, it’s actually a brilliant plan.

Miss Wadsworth is in my principle study group, and she is quite astute. I would say nearly as observant as you (though not half as gifted as I am, of course). However, in my prowess I seem to be only irritating her more. It is odd, really, to have someone not simply grateful to have me solve all the problems for them. She is just as hungry for answers, it would seem, as I am.

She is also in my Forensics class, but as yet to notice me. We’re well into the second week, and I worry I made her uncomfortable because today (against my better judgement) I took up the seat next to her.

Though she didn’t seem particularly happy, she didn’t seem too upset either.

I suppose I have to continue to sit next to her now, for it may be even more awkward for me to suddenly decide I no longer wished to be her seatmate.

See you in a few weeks, Daci.

-Thomas

—

My dearest brother/favorite human,

I can’t believe it took you this long to realize the only reason I would want to visit is to see Ileana. It is positively ridiculous to want to visit my baby brother and meet the woman who seems to have captured his attention.

Who knew all it would take is her not swooning at your every move.

Audrey Rose’s cousin Liza has yet caught on that you and I are siblings, and has been showing me the letters she exchanged with her. I almost feel bad, because i am seeing this relationship blossom from both sides and just want to get my hands dirty and give you a push.

Good luck with your endeavors, dear brother. See you soon.

Daci

—

Daci—

What do you mean “watching this relationship blossom from both sides”?

Does miss Audrey Rose have feelings for little old me? That would be awfully embarrassing for her, since she seems intent on despising me no matter how charming I am.

No matter how many times I make her laugh with a whispered joke or doodle in lecture, she seems intent on remaining stoic towards me in our study group.

This afternoon in said study group, she mentioned how drained she was from the day and how she didn’t have a break until after our night class. I have noticed that most days, she drinks a large cup of earl grey from the campus cafe, so I think I will bring her one to class.

Hopefully it will brighten her day to get a little attention from someone she so admires.

Speaking of people who admire us, how is Ileana? I trust you’re still speaking frequently since you haven’t yet cancelled your trip down to see "me”. As much as I joke, I hope you are being careful. I don’t want you to get here and find out the two of you are on different wavelengths about where this relationship is headed.

I love you sister, keep your heart safe.

-Thomas

—

My dear, lovesick Tommy,

I cannot believe you are so taken with Audrey Rose. I simply cannot!

I won’t waste words trying to tell you how to proceed, I know you won’t listen.

As for illy and I, to my knowledge we are both in the same place. Unless you know something I do not, it will be a joyous time when we are reunited in two weeks.

Audrey has discovered a pub she will apparently be dragging us to with some strange American musical phenomenon called “surfer punk”. It sounds positively ghastly, but then again, so did Paris when I first heard about it, and now I love it here.

Can’t wait to see the look on Liza’s face when she puts everything together, and the four of us get to go out together. That promises to be funny.

I love you, and miss you more than words,

Your very emo sister.

Ps- A certain someone happened to mention a certain cup of tea in her last letter. Perhaps you e finally found your in.

Love you double,

Daci <3

—

Dear Sister,

We were assigned a massive midterm assignment in forensics, and for some reason, I thought Audrey might ask me to work with her.

To my chagrin, she did not.

However, because you said that tea was my in, I showed up unannounced to her door with a massive cup, and all of my notes, and much to my pleasant surprise she did not kick me out.

The past few nights have been spent going over theories, and watching American sketch comedy during breaks. Audrey Rose is very partial to SNL, and told me I was missing a huuuuge opportunity to start every letter to you with “dear sister”. (I was skeptical, but look it up. The sketch is funny).

I can’t believe that even after I told her of my sister abroad I wrote to, she hasn’t come close to putting it together.

I am starting to enjoy her company far too much for my normal aloofness. If this gets back to Romania, it’ll positively ruin my brand. Her room always smells faintly like cashmere and flowers, I don’t know where it’s coming from, it is the strangest thing.

I am starting to worry slightly about what she might think when the other shoe drops. But I don’t know what to do. How do I tell her how connected our lives seem to be, without coming off as an ass for keeping it to myself for so long.

See you in six days,

Thomas

Ps- Illy has been insufferably excited for the weekend. There’s a little heart around Friday on her calendar.

Maybe we can have one big sleepover in her and Audrey Rose’s room!

your deviant brother,

Thomas

—

Thomas,

I am neck deep in work, and tragically do not have time to do the whole letter writing thing this week.

However, if there is a development with you and Audrey, I INSIST you text me immediately.

I know it is not as ridiculously posh as letter writing, but it’ll keep me in the know.

Love always,

Your ‘dear sister’

Ps- tell Audrey I loved that sketch, and that she is going to be my new best friend if she is as wonderful as you’ve made her out to be (which I am sure she is)

—

Tuesday at 7pm, Tommy‍‍‍‍👯‍♂️🧛🏻‍♀️ sent:

“Headed to Audrey’s. I’m starting to worry we’ll never crack this assignment”

Tuesday at 8pm, I sent:

“Aaaaa Sorry this response took so long, that’s so annoying, I want allllll your time this weekend (sorry ar)”

Tuesday at 10pm, I sent:

“How is it going?”

Tuesday at 11:28pm, Tommy👯‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️ sent:

“can I call you?”

Tuesday at 11:31pm, I sent:

“What is going on Thomas, you never ring me?”

Tuesday at 11:31pm, Tommy‍👯‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️sent:

“Is Liza in the room with you?”

Tuesday at 11:32pm I wrote:

“No, she is out on a date, why?”

Tuesday at 11:32pm, Tommy‍👯‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️ rang me:

I lifted the phone to my ear,

“What is going on Tommy? You never ring me.”

“Swear you’re alone?”

“Yes, Christ Thomas I’m by myself.”

“Cat’s out of the bag.”

I paused for a long moment,

“Audrey knows?”

“Yes. Ileana walked in on her and I and then--”

But I cut him off before he can finish,

“Walked in on you two doing what, exactly?”

I could feel my voice rising as I asked, a grin spreading across my face as he stumbled over his words.

“Well we were working on our project, and then suddenly, she has this, stroke of brilliance and I just,”

He pauses and it takes everything I have not to scream a little bit.

“I kissed her, Daci, I was so, excited about the breakthrough that I reacted on impulse. I mean, I would’ve kissed anyone in that moment,”

He stumbles over a feeble explanation and I drum my fingers against the phone. Get to the good part.

“Well, I pulled away, but before I could explain myself, she was all over me. So we’re kissing, and it was like sparks were bursting in my chest when suddenly, Ileana is at the door. So naturally we get off of each other and greet Ileana. Of course, Illy greets me like she normally does, and the ever astute Audrey Rose catches on. I didn’t know what else to do so I left Ileana to explain things.”

There is a long pause, and I can hear him clearing his throat. I don��t know what to say, and the line hangs in silence. If I were in Audrey’s shoes, I can’t figure out whether or not I would be angry.

“Thomas I don’t think she’ll be too angry. It may have been better had you not left so abruptly but--” But now it is his turn to cut me off.

“Someone’s at the door, love you, call you later.”

He hangs up before I have the chance to say anything else.  

Wednesday at 12:45am, I sent:

“Hello? Did you die in the last hour?”

Wednesday at 1:13am, I sent:

“Thomasssssss”

Wednesday at 2:07am, I sent:

“I’m going to bed. I will assume you are knocking boots, rather than the more grim possibility that you finally pissed off the wrong person and have been murdered. Love you, call me tomorrow.”

Wednesday at 3:06am, Tommy‍ 👯‍♂️🧛🏻‍♂️sent:

“AR came up to my room. Thought she would be angry but turns out she just wanted to finish up our project (and another taste of my lips). We have a date tomorrow night, and if all goes well, she will (hopefully) be with me when I pick up you and Liza from the train station.”

Wednesday at 8:45am, I sent:

“I can’t wait to meet her in person, and to get the full rundown on your date. Hope you slept well :)”

~~~

Hope you guys enjoyed!! I have at least one more fic planned for this mini series (spoiler alert, its Thomas and AR’s date)

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for my fics :)

[artsy-sazy]

My experience with getting out of burnout

So as I've mentioned, I basically disappeared from the Internet, lurking in the shadows, for over a year.

What happened? One random day, May 2021, I didn't have the drive to draw anything. I thought "Oh great! Another art block. Oh well, it'll go away in week I'm sure." So I decided to wait for it to pass and just chill for a bit. I waited, and waited, and waited, aaaand wai- WAIT IT'S BEEN FIVE MONTHS!?

So yeah... five months passed since I last even grabbed a pencil, when I finally started to worry. At this point I was trying to force myself to draw just ANYTHING, but it just didn't work. I either didn't have the drive for it or I had no clue what to draw.

I came to the conclusion that it's probably because of the extra stress I've been under from school (cause I was graduating). But even after all my exams were dealt with I still couldn't get myself to make anything.

"Maybe it's a sign. Maybe this whole art thing isn't actually for me." I legit thought about throwing in the towel for good on multiple occasions, but I didn't want to. Obviously. I've been drawing since I was a kid and always loved it, why would that now suddenly change. But I just didn't know what to do.

I just did what I'm great at: look for random posts from random people on the Internet and see if anyone has gone through something similar and what they did. In that search I became ever more familiar with the concept of burnout and it's effect on people.

I realised that I was experiencing burnout, and I realised why. I've been putting too much pressure on myself, on the quality of my art, and the amount of it. I was taking it way too seriously.

I'm not (yet) a professional, so why am I so hard on myself about the quality? Because the people whose work I look up to and admire are a thousand times better than mine. I tried to rush to get even close to their level. I would get extremely disappointed that my art didn't work out as I wanted and go "Why do I even bother? I'll never be as good as X or Y." You know, maybe that's true, I'll never be as good as them, but also I so far just didn't have the time to get to their level. I'm turning 20 next month, some of the people I look up to are in their 30s or 40s, they have been in the industry for literal DECADES. I haven't had the time to get to their level, because I just haven't been alive for long enough yet. For some reason I didn't realise this until like six months ago.

This finally allowed me to go easier on myself. Sure, I'm not yet as good as want to be, but I'm was still improving and that's the thing that should matter. After some thought, I decided to take it easy, for real this time. I started to revisit old movies a shows I remembered loving as kid, to try to go back to where my mind was when I decided to take art more seriously. I finally took the opportunity to play some games I've been meaning to for a while, and even replay older ones I liked.

A couple months go by when one day I was suddenly... bored. I didn't want to play anything, I didn't have it in me to sit down and watch something, instead I instinctively reached for my sketchbook and pencil! And then I started doodling some random shit! It wasn't a lot, but it was a start.

I've spent the past 4 months getting back into drawing regularly. It started with small steps, a small sketch here, some doodles there, and sometimes I fell back a little bit. One of those times was the occasion that gave me the idea to also start writing. I was getting so many ideas for things in my head, but I didn't yet have enough drive to visualise them, so I decided to write them down instead. This made for me to now have two creative outlets, so if I'm not feeling like doing one, I can always do the other.

I am still working on getting my old rhythm back and draw more frequently, but I'm making sure that I don't over work myself and that I don't take the art I make too seriously, it is supposed be fun after all. And boy have I been having fun lately!

So yeah.. things are finally looking brighter and I can't wait to start working on all the new ideas I've accumulated these past months. :)

btw this video by Adam Duff helped me out a lot with figuring out how to get my spark back and it’s great

[hawaiianshirt-s]

↪Title: Little Flower Doodles

↪Pairing: Stan Uris/reader

↪Summary: Stan didn’t want a soulmate. You didn’t think you had a soulmate. But, things change. 

↪Author’s notes: I really don’t like the ending of this, so maybe you got a part two my children 

Derry, Maine. A place you had tried time and time again to dissuade your parents from moving to. However, many fights and five months later, here you were, sitting in an empty and undecorated bedroom while your parents arranged furniture with the movers downstairs. The last thing you wanted to do right before high school was move to a new town, but your parents didn’t listen to a word of your arguments. They kept saying Maine had ‘ a lot of promising potential for us’ and that it would be ‘better for the whole family this way.’ You, on the other hand, thought all of this was bullshit. 

Throughout the half of a year between your parents telling you, you were moving, to actually moving, you refused to look up where Derry was, or anything about it. Needless to say, you really regretted that now that you were actually here. The place might as well have been in the middle of nowhere, considering half the roads weren’t even paved, and despite the lumber business closing down a hundred years ago, all the men still dressed like lumberjacks. 

However, there was one upside to moving to a place like this. Or any new place, for that matter. You were trying to not get your hopes up, to not let your mind wander to this, but you were grasping desperately for a silver lining to this situation, and this was the only thing you could think of. Maybe, just maybe, you would find your soulmate here. 

Everyone back in your hometown had already found their soulmates. Little scribbles and words and drawings had started appearing on their bodies as young as six years old. Throughout middle school, you watched as your two best friends slowly realized that they were each other’s soulmates, and you became a third wheel. Every day you checked desperately for any little marking of a pen anywhere on your body, but it never came. 

For a while, you feared that maybe you just simply didn’t have a soulmate. The thought popped into your head in sixth grade, when over half of your classmates had already found theirs. You suppressed it for as long as you could. That is, until recently, when you finally accepted that it was probably true. You were sure some people just didn’t have anyone they were meant to be with. Some sort of glitch in the system, or something. You were a glitch, and you had come to accept that. 

But now… no. You couldn’t let yourself become hopeful. 

--

Stanley Uris didn’t want a soulmate. He decided that soulmates just weren’t for him at the age of ten. When he was ten years old, two of his best friends, Richie and Eddie, found out they were soulmates. A lot of gross, sappy, romantic nonsense has ensued for the last four years since. Slowly, his other four friends had found their soulmates, and everyone was always acting gross and romantic around him. He could never catch a break. 

He decided he didn’t want to be like that. And, this decision had been working out for him for the most part. No doodles or words had showed up on his skin. It was like the universe had listened to him when he declared he didn’t want a soulmate, and had taken his away. He thought maybe he really did have a soulmate, and they just didn’t like to draw all over themselves, but that seemed kind of stupid to him. After all, he knew nearly everyone in Derry, and he still hadn’t met his soulmate. Currently, it was September sixth, and the last day of Summer for the children of Derry. It was also the last day of Stan Uris’s life pre- high school. He and his friends would be freshman tomorrow, and Stan couldn’t lie, he was nervous. The day was windy, and as he sat in a circle with his friends overtop the quarry, he cursed himself for not bringing a sweater. 

“I can’t believe that this time tomorrow, we’re all going to be in school,” Richie sighed, leaning back against the rock behind him. Eddie was laying with his head in Richie’s lap, half-dozing, half-listening to the conversation at hand. 

“Yeah, we’re all gonna be freshman starting tomorrow. You thought bullying in the middle school was bad? Nobody likes freshman,” Bev responded, and Stan let out a dry chuckle in response. She wasn’t wrong. The conversation carried on from there, and Stan found himself looking out over the water below. The original plan was to go for one final swim today before the weather got too bad, but the weather beat them to it, and nobody really felt like swimming. 

Suddenly, Stan was snapped out of his thoughts by a vague, irritating itchiness that was slowly looping its way down his left arm. He scratched at it absentmindedly, assuming it was a bug bite, and slowly drifted off into space again. That is, until a minute later, when the itching still hadn’t stopped. Stan sighed in annoyance, looking down at his arm. 

He let out an almost theatrical gasp of surprise. Everyone stopped talking and looked at Stan, concern on their faces. 

“What’s wrong, S-stan?” Bill asked, his blue eyes laced with worry. But Stan was still looking down at his left forearm in surprise, as if he previously thought he was one-armed, and the arm being there at all really threw him off. 

There, trailing down his pale skin, was a line of swirling wildflowers, looking as if they were drawn in a black ballpoint pen.  Stan sat gaping at it and not saying anything long enough that Ben, who was sitting next to him, got curious enough to just scoot over and look at Stan’s arm himself. 

“Oh gosh, guys! It’s Stan’s soulmate!” Ben exclaimed, looking at everyone with a surprised look of happiness. At this, Stan looked up, mouth hung wide open as his eyes darted from one of his friends to another to another. 

“Stan, that’s awesome! Let’s see it, then. What’s the first thing your soulmate drew on you?” Eddie asked, sitting up from Richie’s lap. Stan turned his arm outward and held it up to his friends, and they all took their turns examining it. 

“Well whoever your soulmate is, they sure have a sick amount of artistic talent,” Richie commented, and everyone nodded in agreement. Stan nodded as he looked at the flowers once more, smiling unconsciously to himself. 

--

The next morning when Stan awoke, bright and early for school, the flowers were mostly faded and gone. Stan could only assume that his soulmate had taken a shower and scrubbed them off. He tried to hide the fact that he was a bit disappointed that they were gone. 

Stan brushed thoughts of his soulmates from his mind, and dragged him out of bed to get ready. There was no way he could be late for the first day of school, and at the rate he was going, it almost looked like he was going to be. Some way to start high school, right?

--

You woke up on the first day of high school by falling out of your bed. Groaning, you sat up slowly, rubbing your head. Of course this would happen to you of all people. Dragging yourself into a standing position, you went through the motions of getting dressed and brushing your teeth without really waking up. Before you knew it, you had five minutes to leave the house without being late, and you were stuffing a waffle down your throat while simultaneously shrugging on a jacket.

 --

Homeroom on the first day of school always lasted half an hour. The purpose, was for the teachers to hand out locker combinations and kids to look over their schedules. Stan had already memorized his schedule weeks ago when it came in the mail, so now he was sitting, bored, in a room full of kids he didn’t know or particularly like. 

He kept glancing down at his arm, eyes following the remnants of vines and flowers that had stood out bold and prominent on his arm before. He wondered if his soulmate was going to draw anything else throughout the day, and he felt himself hoping that they would. Stan didn’t really think he had any artistic talent, and was hoping to catch his soulmate while drawing, so he could watch the art unfurl on his body. 

As he got lost in thinking of his soulmate, a new thought just about struck him on the head like a brick. He realized he hadn’t drawn anything back. For all his soulmate knows, they didn’t have anyone on the receiving end of their doodles. Before he could talk himself out of it, Stan had taken a blue ballpoint pen out of his pencil case, and touched it to his skin. 

Five minutes later, a small but intricate blue jay decorated his skin, just above his inner elbow. He looked at it for a moment, wondering if his soulmate had seen it already, or if they would even see it in the whirlwind of the day. Before Stan could start second guessing himself, the bell for first period rang. He gathered up his things and made his way out of the classroom, first day jitters completely overtaking his mind.

 --

Your first period was English. You were alright with English, and were kind of happy to start your day off with it, because the teacher gave you all a syllabus and then gave you a free period. You had taken your notebook out and were sketching a random face, waiting for the time to go by, when a flash of blue on your arm caught your attention. Examining it further, you saw it was a rather beautiful drawing of a Blue Jay residing almost in the crook of your elbow. 

You stared at it for a long time, unmoving. One thing was for sure in your mind; you had not drawn this. Which means… it means you have a soulmate. And whoever this soulmate was, was likely in school with you right now. Excitement flared up in your chest, and you suppressed squealing like a little girl. This was the first time in a long time that you had allowed yourself to be hopeful of a soulmate. 

One question burned in your mind- who was this soulmate?

--

September was coming to an end, and with it, the last few days of mild warmth were slipping by. You had made it through your first month of school well enough. I mean, you hadn’t made any friends, and whoever your soulmate was hardly responded to your doodles, but you were doing okay. 

This particular morning, you woke up with a new doodle. This doodle was on your thigh, and you noticed it as you were changing out of your pajamas. It was rather large and detailed, and looked like it took your soulmate a lot of time to draw. The doodle depicted a bare winter branch, and on the branch, three birds you couldn’t quite recognize resided. You were almost sure that if you touched it, you would be able to feel the feathers of the birds, that’s how much detail was in it. 

Glancing at the clock, you noticed you had gotten up about fifteen minutes early, and had some time to spare. Grabbing a red fine-point sharpie from your desk, you uncapped it with your teeth, and went to work on your left arm. You drew a beautiful red parrot, wings spread, seemingly about to soar right off your arm. You hoped that it made whoever your soulmate was liked it, because they seemed to really enjoy birds. 

Capping the pen again and putting it back on your desk, you resumed getting ready for the day, and headed out to school. It wasn’t until second period, when you felt that familiar itch on your arm that meant your soulmate was saying something. Waiting until you were sure they were done, you rolled up your sleeve and searched for what they wrote. 

There, written neatly across your wrist in tall, crowded letters, was a sentence. 

Hello, soulmate. 

It was two words. Simple. But still, it made your heart flutter inexplicably in your chest. Smiling, you directed the pen you were using to your wrist to respond. 

--

They actually wrote back. Stan was surprised to say the least, when he felt an itch on his arm that could only mean one thing. Stan tried to listen to what the teacher was saying, telling himself he could check what they wrote back when he had some free time. But, the curiosity was way too much. Stan rolled up the sleeve of his sweater under his desk, and looked down at the writing. 

I never thought you’d talk to me. 

His soulmate had beautiful, looping cursive handwriting, that seemed somehow elegant and perfect, yet messy and uncontrollable at the same time. He couldn’t have imagined their handwriting any other way. Stan reached blindly for the pen on his desk, before he responded. 

Admittedly, I was nervous. A soulmate is a big thing, you know. 

--

You had to hold yourself back from laughing in class as you read what your soulmate wrote back. Talking to your soulmate just made you want to look for them more, but you didn’t know if they were quite ready to meet you yet. You didn’t want to force yourself on them or anything, and ruin your chances with them. 

Yeah, believe me, I know. I didn’t think I had a soulmate. 

You felt your cheeks flare at the confession, and you hoped your soulmate didn’t think you were stupid or something for thinking you’d be the one person in the world without a soulmate. Why was this making you so nervous? Your soulmate couldn’t even see you.

I didn’t think I had a soulmate either. To be honest, I’m kind of relieved that I do. Now I know I’m not the odd one out. 

You smiled at the words, and responded. 

I’m (Y/N), What’s your name, soulmate?

I’m Stan, nice to meet you, soulmate. 

Tags!:

@eggo-child @letmewriteyoustuff @maroon-richie @derrysdenbrough @liyahisdabomb @gay-ships-and-tea-sips @superhero-lover101 @due-peach @heavnsyre @maggie-duval