#so hopefully the sleepy rewrite still hits

[creepswrites]

TIRED OF RUNNING | Sinclairs x Reader

YET ANOTHER REWRITE i have no idea why Tired of Running is so popular but i've always been proud of it :) the original can be read here but i will be rewriting all existing chapters to finish it!!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work. "They got kids."

WARNING: mentioned child abuse

Sighing, you hit your head on the wheel with an exhausted groan. The Louisiana heat had been suffocating you ever since the AC sputtered to nothing a few hours ago. You'd left the windows open to prevent frying the inside of the car but it was still too hot. Even after living here for a few years, you never got used to the heat. It was fall for god's sake…

You lifted your head and tried to blink back the drowsiness aching behind your eyes. Driving for a week now had exhausted you and the heat wasn't doing you any favors. Everything felt warm and sleepy, making it difficult to focus on the road. A glance at your gas tank only made you groan. Nearly empty tank with no cell phone reception and two kids to take care of.

Speaking of kids, you glanced at the rearview mirror. Your twin boys - Peter and Michael - were passed out in their carseats and dead to the world. They were good kids, rarely fussy, and full of energy. They were why you'd been on the road for so long. You'd fled home with whatever belongings you could pack in your car and never looked back. Seeing their peaceful faces reminded you that it had been the right decision. Watching your ex husband strike Mikey for "misbehaving" had been your last straw. They were only two years old and he expected them to just simply know what behaviors were acceptable without teaching them anything.

He'd been the one who wanted kids yet showed no real interest in parenting. That had all been on you.

Which led you to where you were: off a dirt backroad in the middle of nowhere with the sun setting in an hour. If it had just been you, you would have sucked it up and walked to the nearest town in search of help. But with two toddlers, the feat seemed impossible. You didn't want them getting lost or hurt in the dark with no way of you helping them.

You got out of the car to survey your situation. The road you were on was mainly dirt and not well traveled. You hadn't even been certain they were roads if not for the signs just before you'd turned. Grass grew in wild, untamed patches and stretched out into a field to your left while the forest was close to your right. The trees offered minimal shade but were better than nothing. At least it was cooler under them instead of your hot car. But the prospect of sleeping in the dirt didn't sit well with you. Who knows what animals were even out there.

You pressed the heel of your hands to your eyes and tried not to cry. This was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have happened. If your husband was following you, which he most certainly was, then it was only a matter of time until he found you.

So you slid down the side of your car to sit against the wheel and curl in on yourself. It had been awhile since you cried since your husband would slap you for it, threatening to give you something to really cry about. You'd only withstood the abuse for so long because you didn't want Peter and Mikey to grow up in broken homes. But after you noticed they were being hit, you couldn't stay still. It had still been hard and you kept second guessing yourself all week if you were doing the right thing.

Hopefully you were.

A few hours passed before your luck changed. The sun had just begun to set, painting the skies in pinks and purples like a beautiful watercolor painting. It was finally cooler out now too, the breeze brushing your arms and face periodically. You'd just finished feeding the boys whatever food you had left in the duffle bags still and had decided to let them play in the little clearing nearby. You'd all been cooped up in your tiny car for days and you could tell they needed a break. They promised to stay close to you, running around nearby with sticks and their toys. Peter roared, running up to you with a tiny blue T-rex in hand. "'m gon' eat you!" He giggled.

You scooped him up and held him in your lap, watching his brother poking at the dirt with a stick. "Mikey, don't wander too far okay?" 

Mikey didn't answer and you sighed. He always had problems listening, always content to drift off in his own world without a second thought. You'd read a book about childhood trauma and worried about Mikey sometimes. You stood up and were about to approach him when you heard the sound of a car rumbling. You'd never understood the phrase "your life flashes before your eyes" but in that moment you did. "Mikey!" You shouted, white-hot horror shooting through you. "Peter, get in the car!" 

As soon as Peter squirmed out of your arms, you shot off like a rocket towards Mikey. His wide, terrified eyes were trained on the car headlights, which felt like a spotlight as you picked him up. The ground was illuminated with bright white light, making it impossible to hide from whoever this was. You practically threw Mikey into the car, slamming the door behind him and locking them inside.

The truck came to a stop and you faced it, squeezed your eyes tight, and prepared for the worst.

You heard the sound of the car door open and you turned to face the figure. When he finally stepped into the light, you nearly cried from relief. It wasn't your ex nor any of his friends. You felt your knees give out as a sob wracked your body, the adrenaline crash hitting you hard.

"Woah, woah!" The guy said, hurrying over and crouching in front of you. "Hey, it's alrigh', I ain't gon' hurt'cha." His voice was calm, the southern drawl making your eyes feel heavy. The headlights obscured a lot of your vision but you could make out his face. He was a little scruffy, covered in dirt, and looking at you with more concern than anyone had looked at you with in quite some time. "Shh, it's alrigh', you're okay…" You could tell he was scrambling, unsure how to help you but desperate to do so.

"S-sorry," you babbled through broken sobs. You didn't know what else to say and you couldn't stop the tears. "I- I thought you were- I'm sorry, my ex, he-"

He took you in his arms, hugging you to his chest. He was warm and smelt of dirt and rot but you didn't even care. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been hugged. Over the years, your ex had isolated you from your friends and most of your family so you knew it had likely been a good few years. So you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed.

But he didn't falter. "Shh, 's okay, you're okay. I gotcha." He rubbed slow circles in your back and smiled down at you, like an angel come to save you. "Y'ain't gotta 'pologize. I ain't mad."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and leaning back slightly to look at him better. Definitely scruffy but charming in his own way. The look on his face was impossibly soft, so unfamiliar to you yet you craved that gentleness. "Sorry, I, um, I'm on the run. My ex, he, uh… Well, doesn't matter now. I got myself and my boys out 'n that's what matters."

The stranger's eyes widened slightly. Bright and pretty and you felt safe under his gaze, for some reason. "Your boys?"

You nodded and started to stand. He didn't hesitate to offer his arm, letting you steady yourself on him when you felt your head swim. "Yeah, they're in the car. Probably scared 'em shitless with my screaming." Your legs felt unsteady when you walked and you didn't miss the way the guy hovered, like he was braced to catch you if you fell. It was sweet.

You swung your car door open and the boys peered up at you, scrambling to try and hide their animal crackers. "Boys," you sighed, "What did I say about desserts?"

"To ask." Peter said plainly, too distracted by the stranger. "You're dirty, mister."

"Peter-!" You gasped, ready to apologize on his behalf.

But the man just laughed, clapping his hands together in his amusement. "Yeah, yeah, y'ain't wrong lil guy. Been workin' all day, hauling dead stuff 'round."

Peter looked morbidly intrigued, scooting closer to whisper like the two of them were sharing a secret. "Like… dead people?"

"Nah, nah, nothin' like that." The guy knelt down to talk with him easier, lowering his voice as well. "Animals who, uh, get hit by cars. Ain't got anyone to take care'a them, ain't like pets. So I come 'round 'n clean 'em up off the road."

Nodding slowly, Peter reached behind him and held out one of his dinosaur toys. "Have ya seen one'a these?"

The man seemed bewildered but offered him a sincere smile. "Nah, but, uh, if I do, I'll let'cha know, 'kay?"

Peter seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his crackers. "I never got your name." You said as the man stood back up.

"Name's Lester." He gave you a gap-toothed grin, tilting his cap in a greeting. "Was headin' back home 'n saw yer car. Figured I'd come check on ya."

You smiled, hugging yourself shyly. "I, uh, ran outta gas. And with the boys, I can't exactly walk for help. No cell service either."

Lester frowned, scratching at his face as he seemed to think it over. He surveyed the three of you before looking out towards the setting sun. "Well, I ain't usually do this," he drawled slowly, "But there's a town nearby. 's called Ambrose. Could drive ya there so y'all could sleep for the night. An' in the mornin', we can swing by the gas station 'n get some gas for yer car."

"Really?" You stared at him with your mouth agape. "You- You'd help? Wh-what's the catch?" You couldn't accept he'd do this for nothing. If being with your ex taught you anything it's that no one was good for no good reason.

He smiled again, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Ain't no catch, honest. Jus' breaks my heart to see ya so freaked out."

You rubbed your arms nervously. "Sorry. I, um, thought you were my ex…"

Lester's face screwed up. "Well, whoever he is, hope he goes to hell if he'd scare ya that badly, sweetpea." 

Sweetpea was new. You felt your face warm up and you looked away shyly. He seemed trustworthy and he was cute, in a scruffy boyish way. You liked him. "I- I really appreciate it, Lester."

"'Course. Got two brothers'a my own so I get it." He watched you open your trunk and shuffle the bags around. "They ain't as well behaved as yer boys though."

Shouldering two of the bags, you snorted. "Yeah, you see 'em when its bathtime, then talk to me 'bout behaving."

The two of you were able to move most of your belongings along with the boy's car seats without issue. The truck smelt of rot and you scrunched your nose up when you spotted the dead deer in the back. "Sorry," Lester said, noticing your gaze. "Was workin' when I caught'cha. I promise everythin' in the car is clean though."

"It's okay." The smile you gave him was genuine even if he seemed surprised by it. "You're helping me. I ain't gonna shame you for your work. 'sides, someone's gotta do it, y'know?"

Lester, incredibly, gave you a surprised little smile as he watched you round up the boys. "Yeah. Yeah. You get it."

"The car smells weird." Peter said bluntly as you fastened him into his seat. Mikey had gone quietly, only squirming a little to voice his discomfort at being buckled in. He never liked confined spaces.

"Be nice, Peter." You shot him a look. "Lester's being kind to us, be kind to him, yeah?"

Peter glanced over at the man and smiled, all gap toothed and sweet. "Thank you for helpin' Mr Lester."

"'Course, lil man." Lester said, climbing into the front seat and rooting around in the glovebox. "Always happy to help." 

You climbed into the passenger seat beside Lester and felt the truck rumble to life. The truck was clearly old but you could tell Lester loved it dearly and took good care of it. Even if the engine shook the whole frame. The homemade charms littered with bones and feathers rattled like raindrops and he let out a little cheer. From out of the glovebox, he pulled out an old air freshener that smelt of disgustingly fake pine and strung it over the rearview mirror. "Best I got for the smell, sorry." He said with a sideways smile.

Your heart clenched. He was so kind to you for no reason and you almost teared up from the sweet gesture alone. "Thank you."

The truck rattled and the skull sitting on the dashboard unnerved you but you brushed it off. He worked with dead animals, something about it all just made sense. The boys didn't seem to care too much, happily nodding off only ten minutes into your drive.

"So how old're they?" Lester asked in a hushed voice, trying to not wake them.

"Just turned two a few months back. Twins, if you can believe it." You chuckled, sparing the boys a glance. They weren't identical in the slightest which you were slightly grateful for. You didn't want to be one of those parents who dressed their twins to look even more the same. "But, um, I guess they got to be too much for my ex. Managed to get out 'bout a week ago and we've been on the road since."

You felt Lester glance at you, giving you a once over. Unlike with most men, you didn't find yourself repulsed by his gaze. "He put his hands on ya?"

Shrugging, you turned your attention to the window to watch the trees. The sky was slowly getting darker, making them look like just black voids. At that moment, you became hyper aware of the ring still on your finger. The compulsion to throw it out the window was strong. "Yeah. A few times." You confessed quietly, closing your eyes to keep yourself from crying again. "More the boys than me, which kills me."

You didn't miss the way Lester's hands clutched the wheel tighter. "Well, there's a special place in hell for people like that. 's fuckin' repulsive." He grumbled that last part, like he didn't want the boys to hear it.

It made you laugh though. "You're right… It's just refreshing to hear." You tried to swallow around a lump in your throat. "All his friends were the only friends I had. Was allowed to have. And none of them were interested in helping me, much less believe me."

Lester scoffed. "Scumbags, the lotta'em. What happened ain't your fault, sweetpea don't let any of 'em get in your pretty lil' head that you did anythin' wrong." He paused, chewing on his lip before sighing. "My dad, he wasn't always the kindest to my brother. An' don't go telling this to nobody, ya hear? But I always hated folks who can jus' hurt their loved ones and keep goin' 'bout their damn business. Like it ain't botherin' em."

You knew he was right. It still brought tears to your eyes to have someone believe you. Someone who had no idea what your situation was and he was still defending you. Like your ex had no reason good enough for Lester to even ask about.

You definitely liked Lester.

"Town's just up this way," he said softly. The sight of streetlights was almost relieving to you after a long day of being on the road, hopping from gas station to gas station and only stopping at motels long enough to sleep. "Might get a lil' bit bumpy." 

Bumpy was an understatement. You almost thought you'd crashed as you felt the wheels bounce against rocks, shaking the car so violently you felt sick. Your arm shot out to try and catch your balance against the window and you only let out a breath when the truck came to a complete stop.

You and Lester shared a wide-eyed look. "Forgot to lay the planks down." 

Nothing about it was funny. But after the evening you had, you couldn't help but laugh. A genuine laugh. Something you hadn't done in a long time.

When Mikey began to cry from being woken up so violently, Lester got to him before you could. "Shh, s'alright lil' man, go back to sleep, shhh." He reached behind his seat to brush at his knee. "Sorry, almost there bud, jus' a bit further."

Eventually, Mikey settled back down, sniffling until he fell back asleep. When Lester sat back in his seat, he noticed your staring. "You have kids of your own or something? You're a natural at that."

He looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. "Nah, but, uh, used to babysit 'round here. Was always good with kids, I s'pose."

With the car on paved roads now, the drive up to the town was smooth. As expected of a tiny town, nobody was outside. The lights in the little shops were out and the houses were all dark. Except one house atop a hill, lit up like a lighthouse in a sea of darkness. Lester drove towards it and pulled to a stop just outside. It was a modest house, paint peeling off in places along the outside and cobwebs in high places of the awning over the door. "What's this place?" You asked as you quickly followed Lester out of the car. You were incredibly appreciative of Lester’s good deed but his car did smell like rotten meat. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too offended.

"Family home. Inn's prolly closed for the night but I betcha my brothers'll let ya stay for the night." Lester said as he opened the backseat and began to undo the straps of Mikey's car seat.

You were struck silent. "I- Lester I can't impose on your-"

There wasn't any time to protest as the front door swung open. A large man stood there, dressed in a mechanics jumpsuit and wearing a hat over thin curly hair. "Les? The hell's this?"

Lester smiled all innocently, like this was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. "Heya Bo. Brought guests."

Bo stared you both down before running a hand over his face in exasperation. "When I toldja to come by for dinner, I ain't meaning to bring your pretty lil' girlfriend with ya."

You blushed and stammered but Lester spoke up, lifting a sleeping Mikey into his arms like he was a precious artifact. Bo took notice and his eyes widened at the sight. "I, uh," he stammered inelegantly. "What's with the, uh…"

"His name's Mikey." You mumbled, suddenly feeling unwelcome. It wasn't uncommon for people to look at you strangely for the twins, like they were some curse. Or maybe it was just your exes friends who felt like that.

Bo nodded slowly. "Mikey. Right." He looked at Lester and stepped aside, letting him pass into the house with your baby. "Well then. You folks like lasagna?" 

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Whenever Les comes to visit for the eve, Vince always makes lasagna. Easy for him to take home 'n whatnot." Bo gave you a warm smile as he approached you slowly, like he was afraid you'd bolt. "If my lil' brother thinks you're good people… Well, I'm obliged to trust him. He ain't ever been wrong."

You watched Bo grab the bags you brought, only hesitating when he saw Peter, also fast asleep. "Sorry, um, I can-" You stuttered, reaching for the bags in Bo's hands.

He held onto them though, tilting his head towards Peter. "Don't even think 'bout it. You just bring your lil' one in. The gentlemanly thing to do is carry the bags." Bo gave you a flirtatious wink and went back inside.

You were left standing in the chilly, night air. The only light came from the inside of the house, which bathed the front porch and gravel walkway in warm, yellow light. You were cold and confused and absolutely exhausted. A part of you screamed against all instinct to accept their help, to trust these strangers. It had been so long since you'd trusted anyone, after all. You were desperate.

So you did.

Peter was already blinking awake from his short nap when you pushed the screen door open more and took in the house. It was a comfortable state of disarray. Throw pillows were propped against the couch at odd angles, family photographs decorated the walls in mismatched frames, and the room smelt of meat, cheese, and marinara sauce.

Lester and Bo's heads snapped to look at you. They'd clearly been whispering but they both smiled at you when you entered. Mikey was sitting on the couch, still a little bleary eyed, curled up against one of the velvety throw pillows that looked rustic and homemade. You sat Peter down beside him, brushing hair from their sleepy faces, and tried to ignore the brothers whispering. "Sorry," you mumbled as you approached them.

They both seemed surprised. "Why're you sorry?" Bo asked with a frown. "Y'ain't got nothin' to be sorry 'bout."

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, hung head low like a child being scolded. Fawn, your brain screamed. Fawn and they won't hurt you. "'m intruding with two kids, I- I know I'm not supposed to have come here, I just- Lester said the inn was closed, I didn't know where else to go, my car broke down-"

Lester cut your spiraling off by taking your hand and squeezing gently, grounding you. "Hey, hey, sweetpea," he kept his voice low and soothing, "We're happy to have ya. All three'a ya. Honest."

Bo nodded along, frowning at how quickly you retreated inwards. Lester had mentioned to him very briefly while you were outside about how your ex laid hands on you and the boys. It was what got him fully on board with offering you help. So seeing you like this broke his heart just that little bit more.

"I'm gonna go talk to Vince, let him know we got guests." Bo said as he swung open the basement door. "Les, make sure our guests are comfortable, yeah?"

Lester nodded, humming his agreement as he pulled you to his chest for a hug. You went willingly, your hands curled up in the fabric of his shirt as he hooked his arms around your shoulders. "Yeah, I got 'em." He said, shooting his brother a smile as he hugged you.

Bo nodded and descended to the basement.

Vincent hated to be disturbed while working. His brothers especially knew how entranced he'd get in a project, focused on perfecting every piece. Their mother had made him an incredible artist, which often meant he'd neglect everything, even himself, for the sake of his work. Oftentimes, Lester or Bo had to come downstairs to make sure he didn't collapse from exhaustion or dehydration. Especially when summer hit and the basement's heat was suffocating.

So Vincent didn't even lift his head when Bo came to a stop in the entryway, too focused on mending a crack in the cheek of his sculpture. "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. 

He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work.

"They got kids."

And that made Vincent straighten up. "Kids?" He signed slowly, like he wasn't sure he heard him right.

"Yeah." Bo said through a sigh. "Two lil' guys. Too old for breastfeedin' but too young for preschool. Hard to say though, been awhile since any of us were that old." He chucked humorlessly.

Vincent looked towards the wax figure slowly. "We promised Lester we wouldn't hurt children."

Bo nodded, looking annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. They're a pretty lil' thing too. Would be perfect for the museum, but, of course, Lester found 'em first."

"They can't see me," Vincent suddenly became frantic. "The children will be afraid."

The other man winced, hissing through his teeth. "Sorry bro, already promised your cookin' tonight." But Bo didn't seem that remorseful, even when his twin leveled him with an unimpressed look. "When's dinner, by the way?"

"What time is it?" Vincent signed, finally aware of the passage of time. It was easy to get lost in his work, though he promised himself he'd only come down for a few minutes to double check something. But it was easy for him to get lost.

"'s only quarter past 9. Why?"

Vincent finally moved, hurrying past. Bo was only able to make out "oven" before his brother was out of sight.

Thankfully, nothing was burnt. Vincent hadn't even spared you a glance yet, too focused on not burning the house down. Once the food was set atop the stove to cool down, he turned around to face you.

You were sat on the couch with Lester and the boys, who were trying their best to stay awake. "You must be Vincent," you said with a sniff. You knew your eyes were red from crying. Lester had sat with you, holding you while you wept. It was hard, feeling cared for. Especially by strangers.

Pain was familiar. This kindness overwhelmed you.

Vincent became shy when you addressed him, hiding behind long hair and doing his best to keep out of your sight. But Bo, never one to let his twin have peace, grabbed his arm to keep him from hiding. "Yep, managed to finally pull 'im outta that basement for dinner. Whaddya say, Vinny? You up for a proper meal with our guests?"

If looks could kill, Bo would have erupted into flames, reduced to ashes on the carpet. "Do I have a choice?" Vincent signed, managing to look annoyed even behind his mask.

"Nah." Bo smiled, all teeth and no kindness. "You set the table, I'll get enough chairs ready."

Lester turned to you, brushing stray tears away. His heart hurt when you'd started bawling after Bo left, babbling to him that you felt horrible for intruding and forcing his family to help you just because of the kids. He swore if he ever got his hands on your ex, they'd wish Vince or Bo had gotten to them first. "You okay?" He asked you gently, giving you what he hoped was a sincere smile.

You nodded, sniffing once. "Yeah, um, sorry for-"

"If you 'pologize to me for cryin', I'mma beat the ever lovin' shit outta your ex, sweetpea." Lester said, relishing in your chuckle. "We're happy to help ya, really."

Sniffing again, you nodded and wiped your eyes. "I really appreciate it. More than I think you know."

The look he gave you was impossibly soft. Like you were something precious. Lester's hand cupped your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, making your mouth fall open in surprise. "You deserve it, sweetpea. Y'really do." 

Bo coughed, making Lester roll his eyes. The two shared pointed looks before Bo turned to you. "Your lil' ones need high chairs or, uh, somethin'?"

You glanced down at the boys and sighed. "I think they're down for the count."

"You can use my room upstairs." Lester said. "I ain't sleep there much anymore so it oughta be clean." Before you could even think to protest, he tapped your nose. "And don't you get all apologetic on me. I wouldn't offer it if it weren't alright."

Honestly, you were a bit relieved to get to sleep in a real bed. So you thanked them quietly, gathered the boys up in your arms, and carried them upstairs. "Second door on the right," Bo called up after you.

As soon as your footsteps couldn't be heard on the creaky wooden stairs anymore, Lester was the first to speak. "I hope you two ain't forgotten your promise."

"Lester, I toldja to find someone for the museum-" Bo hissed, anger sharp on his face.

But the younger Sinclair didn't back down. "If Mama knew you two'd killed two lil' boys, whaddya think she'd do? She'd say somethin' 'bout how if someone took y'all from her, she'd raise hell."

"Don't bring Mama into this." Bo glared daggers at Lester.

Vincent knocked on the countertop to get their attention. "He's right. We made a promise."

"We can't fuckin' keep 'em here!" Bo said, careful to keep his voice down.

"Don't gotta." Lester said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "They ran outta gas. Let 'em stay the night, drop 'em back off at their car, they'll go on. Ain't no trouble."

Bo groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why do you even care so bad?"

Lester flushed, blotchy pink spots on his cheeks, and shrugged. "They're nice. 'n I feel bad. Their ex laid hands on those lil' babies an' I'd do anything to get five minutes alone with that sonuvabitch."

Vincent's eyes widened. "You didn't mention that!" He signed harshly at Bo.

"Didn't exactly have a moment to tell ya." He sighed with obvious frustration. "Fine, alright, we keep 'em for one night. They're gone in the mornin', ya hear?"

The three of them were quiet for awhile, listening to your footsteps overhead as you set the boys up in Lester's old room. "Swear on Mama," Lester said, keeping his voice low, "That I ain't gonna be seein' any lil' boy statues."

"Lester-!" Bo hissed.

"Swear!" Lester shot back. The two were up in each other's faces at this point.

Vincent, ever the peacemaker, knocked on the counter again. "We swear on Mama."

"Don't fuckin' speak for me, freak!" Bo huffed. But Vincent fixed him with a glare and he sighed in defeat. "Fine. Swear on Mama. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to those three."

The youngest seemed satisfied. At that moment, you came back down the stairs, frowning slightly when you noticed them. "Everything okay?" You asked as though sensing the tension in the room.

"Yep!" Lester said with a wide grin. "Hungry?"

"Starving." You smiled back. 

Dinner was awkward at first, especially since you struggled to understand Vincent. But Bo and Lester happily translated and conversation began to flow easier, which you were grateful for.

"So, how long has it just been the three of you?" You asked as you took a bite out of the lasagna. Warm and cheesy and exactly what you needed after a week of gas station food.

Bo hummed as he swallowed. "'Bout ten years now. Went by in a blip, feels like."

"Oh," you frowned, "What happened? If, um, I can ask."

Vincent nodded, still nervously picking at his food. You'd noticed he only ate when you weren't looking so he could lift the mask, which saddened you. He seemed like a nice guy and you wondered what happened in the past to make him hide his face. But you did your best to look away periodically to give him a chance to eat and hopefully let him know it was fine. He probably got enough grief for it as is, you didn't need to add on.

Judging by the slowly disappearing food on his plate, you figured that was the right thing to do.

"Mama got sick. Real sick." Bo sighed sadly. "She was a really great artist, losing her hit the town hard."

"I'm sorry." You said gently. But Lester was the only one of the brothers who seemed sad. Something about that confused you. Why wouldn't they miss their parents?

You took a bite of the food. That wasn't your business.

Vincent began talking about his art then. Bo seemed to roll his eyes and ignored his signing, uninterested in translating. But Lester picked it up in his place, helping his brother talk about his art. He enjoyed painting in his free time but he primarily sculpted with wax.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You sculpt?"

"Vinny's the main artist in the House of Wax down the street." Bo nodded, answering for him. "Maybe t'morrow we'll take you 'n the boys to see it."

Vincent fidgeted with the ends of his hair, clearly embarrassed. You shot him a warm smile. "I'm sure Vincent's art is great. I look forward to it."

Once dinner was over, Bo and Lester disappeared into the living room with a couple of beers so you and Vince had the chance to wash dishes. The peaceful white noise of the running water and the simple swirling of washing dishes was nice after a long day. Vincent helped, taking whatever dish you passed him and drying it, setting it aside on the nearby dishrack.

He seemed to appreciate the silence. You almost wished you knew sign language so you could talk to him beyond yes or no questions. But you tried to ignore the shock you felt when your fingers brushed sometimes.

If he noticed, he didn't bring it up.

The soft sound of crying alarmed you. You spun around and saw Mikey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing and sobbing silently. He cried for you and ran towards you, wailing for comfort. You'd barely dried your hands before you were reaching down, scooping him up into your arms. "Shhh, it's okay," you soothed him gently, Mikey had always been the more sensitive one. Waking up in a new, unfamiliar place must have startled him, you thought to yourself as you swayed with him gently.

He nodded, whimpering. "Scared."

"I can imagine." You kissed his cheek gently, rocking him like you'd done when he was an infant, needing to be settled before bed. "It's okay baby, you're alright," you repeated the mantra over and over as you heard Vincent turn off the water behind you.

Hearing his heavy footsteps behind you, you turned to face him and shifted Peter so he could see him. The tall man blinked slowly at Peter, tilting his head curiously at your son. "Mikey,, this is Vincent. He and his brothers are letting us spend the night so you and Peter can sleep in a bed." 

Mikey seemed to consider this before reaching up to try and touch Vincent's face. "Hi," he whispered.

Vincent flinched slightly but didn't step back. Instead, he offered his hand for the young boy to grab at. Mikey giggled as he grabbed at Vincent's fingers and hand, seemingly satisfied. "Did you wake your brother?" You asked after a moment and winced when your son nodded. "Where did he wander off to?"

"Over here," You turned your head to see Peter half asleep slumped against Bo, barely even keeping his eyes open. Neither of the men seemed bothered though. Bo even raised his beer bottle jokingly, "Seems he's ready to get drinkin' already." He teased and you snorted.

"God I wish they'd just stay small forever. I can't even imagine them starting school yet, much less drinking." You paled at the mere thought. It seemed like only yesterday they were just born and now you felt nauseous whenever you think about them starting kindergarten. Being away from your kids for extended periods of time felt terrifying.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Vincent signing something to you. Shit. Luckily, Lester translated from his seat on the couch, "He's askin' if ya want help bringin' em upstairs?"

Blinking a few times, you nodded at Vincent with a smile. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it! Here," you adjusted Mikey before passing the toddler into Vincent's arms carefully, "just support him here," you guided his arms to the right spaces and ignored the way your heart melted seeing him asleep in someone's arms. Reminded you of easier times before you and your partner split. "Lemme grab Peter and we can head upstairs." Vincent nodded to you and waited patiently by the stairs as you stole Peter back from Bo.

You felt the pair's eyes on you as you wished them goodnight from over your shoulder and headed upstairs with Vincent trailing behind. He carried Mikey like he was fragile, breakable, and you found it incredibly endearing. You set Peter down onto the bed, nestled back in the little blanket fort to prevent them from rolling off the bed, kissing him softly goodnight. Vincent mirrored your actions with Mikey and just stroked his cheek with his thumb in lieu of a kiss. "Thanks for your help. All three of you," you whispered to him. Vincent looked at you, shadows hiding his eyes from you. "It means the world to me that you're all willing to help. I know the boys appreciate it too." You smiled at him as you stood quietly. "I should get to bed," you trailed off and Vincent nodded but didn't leave the room.

Instead, he reached his hand out towards you before tilting his head, asking permission. You gave him a curious nod and felt his hand touch your cheek, stroking under your eye like he'd done to Mikey. "Night Vincent," you whispered and ignored how your face warmed up.

He shut the door as he stepped out of the room,padding down to rejoin his brothers in the living room. None of them said a word to each other but they all had the same thought: they wanted you to stay.

The next morning, Bo collected your car and brought it to the gas station to fill back up. You'd chatted about your plans to keep going west when he'd mentioned missing you. "Place jus' feels more lively with you 'round, s'all." He'd shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

You'd gestured to the empty streets before climbing into the passenger's seat. "You sure that ain't just because this town is quiet as is?"

Bo just gave you a smile. 

When you tried to start your car, it seemed to spur, dead. "What the-?"

"Everythin' alright?" He asked, leaning against the window frame.

"It sounds like the battery's dead?" You frowned, trying again to start the car.

Bo jerked his head, urging you to follow him. "Lemme take a look." You followed him around to the hood of your car and he flipped it open. He hummed as he looked around, face screwing up in surprise. "Your fan belt tore."

"My what?" You blinked owlishly at him. He gave you a look of bewilderment and you just sighed. "You definitely know more about cars than me."

He snorted at you and slammed the hood closed. "I don't think I got any in the shop but I could order one for ya and have it in a few days."

That wouldn't do. "I- I need to get back on the road soon." Panic began to rise in your chest and tighten your throat. "If we're found here, then I'd have to…" You didn't want to think about it, you said to yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut. Obviously you had a plan if you got caught but you really, really, didn't want it to come to that.

Bo nudged you gently and gave you a warm smile. "Hey, we'll look out for ya. Ain't no one gonna hurt'cha here in Ambrose. Not get many tourists anywhere, doubt they'd think to look for ya here."

You sighed. You didn't exactly have much of a choice. If your car wouldn't start, you'd just have to wait.

The two of you were walking back to the house and you felt Bo kept glancing at you. Right before you were going to ask about it, he spoke up. "I know ya wanna go see the House of Wax. Which is all fine 'n good, but ya gotta know somethin' 'fore you go there."

"Sure..?" You said plainly.

Bo sighed loudly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "So, when Mama got sick, Vince had been away at a real good art college." You nodded along to show you were listening. Bo looked guilty. "When she got worse, I needed help takin' care'a her. Lester and I were away workin' and she needed someone at home. So, uh, near her end…" He sighed again. "I called him back home. It's, uh, still a sore spot. Wasn't able to go back, since he got in on scholarships. An' we didn't have the funds anyway, her bills were too much."

The silence was deafening. "I'm sorry." You said, at a loss for words. "I- I won't bring it up then."

"I 'preciate it. He an' I don't talk 'bout it anymore. If he goes with ya, just don't ask."

You nodded, giving Bo a small smile. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you for it."

The man smiled back at you but you could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

Taking a small sidestep, you bumped your shoulders together. "I know so."

Later that night, things changed.

You'd gone to bed after showering and bathing the boys, the three of you all fast asleep in the bedroom. Vincent and Bo had gone to their own rooms while Lester slept on the couch. None of you heard the two cars that pulled into the town, driving slowly down the streets looking for any sign of life. After no luck at the first few houses, a small group of people approached the Sinclair's house, heavy footfalls making the little porch staircase creak under the stress.

They knocked on the front door and a dog could be heard barking in the backyard.

Lester had stumbled awake in surprise, his brain taking a minute to catch up. No one should be at the door because nobody else was alive in Ambrose. He still went to the door, opening it with a tired yawn. "Yeah?"

A man smiled at him, an acidic look that made bile burn the back of Lester's throat. "I'm looking for someone. Do you happen to know if there's been someone visiting your town?"

Freezing, Lester immediately recognized the man. Even though they'd never met face to face, he knew everything about this man. All child abusers look the same, Lester thought as he recalled his father. They all look like scum.

"Well, I ain't too sure. I work the night shift, I jus' got home. But my brother Bo might'a seen 'em. He works down at the autoshop." He said through a yawn. 

"I'd hope so. Considering their car is in his shop." The man smiled, trying to force his way into the door, calling your name.

Lester shoved him back, slamming the door and locking it with a loud thud. He ignored your ex's screaming as he ran up the stairs. 

Bo was opening his door before Lester could even knock. "The hell're you-?!"

"Guests." Lester panted, frozen in place as he kept an ear out in case your door opened. "Their ex is here."

His brother's eyes widened and he stormed to Vincent's door, knocking once before opening. He tore the blankets off Vincent and shook him viciously. "Get up, get the knives, we got intruders."

Vincent snapped awake, blinking through sleep-mussed hair. "Mm?" He said around his exhausted yawn.

"Intruders! Vince! Now!" Bo snapped. "I'll get my shotgun. You helpin' out, Les?"

Lester huffed, thinking it over. "Y'know I ain't a killer, right?"

Bo didn't have time for this. "You helpin' or NOT, Les?"

The younger brother sighed. "Does dad still keep a spare gun in his office?"

"Did he ever stop?" Bo said with a smirk, pulling his boots on his feet.

Vincent stumbled to his feet, putting his own boots on to sneak back down into the basement. If he went down and through the House of Wax, they could pin the group down. Bo'd meet them head on while Lester slipped around the side of the house to catch the strays. They vowed to make quick work of all of them but save your ex for last.

The Sinclair brothers were going to protect you. No matter what.

[sondertaewonder]

Some of my Series 🩷

I have four series at the moment, but my main three I hold very close to my heart, and I think they’re a pretty good example of my work, so I wanted to share them (and some moodboards I’ve made for them) here!

Please be warned, I am a ✨rambler.✨

Under Your Spell

“The lives and misadventures of boyfriends witch Taehyung and animal shapeshifter Jungkook.”

I started UYS in early 2019 as my fourth fic on Ao3, so it’s my oldest child, lol. It’s an urban fantasy AU because I adore urban fantasy, featuring a witch Taehyung from a magical family, and an animal shapeshifting Jungkook from a non-magical family! The series itself is mostly just a collection of one-shots of different moments from Taekook’s relationship, from life and relationship milestones to mishaps. There’s also one spin-off, though it a LOONA-focused on.

The series is mostly one I come to when I want to write fun smaller works, but even if it’s nothing huge or special, I adore it quite a bit. I’ve rewritten or reworked parts of the series to improve them and have plans to continue fixing up some things that I’m not satisfied with, as well as adding new fics once the inspiration strikes.

Overgrown

“Siberian tiger hybrid Taehyung and German shepherd hybrid Jungkook navigate daily life, the past, and a country that’s still learning to accept them.”

Overgrown is my second oldest series that got its sleepy (ha) start in late 2019 under the series name ‘Animal Instincts (Human Hearts)’, though that obviously eventually changed. I don’t know if there’s a popular term for this, but I like to call it a free hybrid AU — basically just an AU where the hybrids aren’t currently pets. The series follows Siberian tiger hybrid Taehyung and German Shepherd dog hybrid Jungkook in a post-ownable-hybrid South Korea. At the moment it’s a bit focused on Jungkook’s work as a police officer, but the last edition brought in more of Taehyung’s experiences, and the fic I’m working on now will hopefully dive much more into the world building I have in mind for this AU.

The series started out as a simple one-off work, then tentatively grew into a series, and as I’ve worked with it more and came up with more ideas, I’ve found myself being really in-love it. As I tend to do, I’ve done some edits on the original three fics and plan to revise the fourth to better fit with the current work-in-progress. I’m really excited to eventually share it!

Pushing Up Daffodils

“The story of Persephone and Hades, but make it Taekook and ridiculously sappy.”

PUD is a series I started in early 2021, and it’s my longest series, mostly because its first installment is my longest fic yet (one that took over a year to write, yikes). It’s a Greek mythology Hades & Persephone AU that I wrote, first as just a vague idea, and then at the encouragement of a friend. It follows more modern recreations of the original myth, essentially involving a lot less kidnapping (and incest, why was that ever a thing) and a lot more sappy lovebirds. Taehyung takes on the role of an outsider, the King of the Underworld, Hades, and Jungkook of spring god, the curious Kore. The series consists mostly of one main fic, a small sequel, and one tiny in-between flash-fic.

Fanfiction vocabulary has so many hyphens—

This series has a special place in my heart. The main work in it took me a lot time and I put a lot of effort into trying to keep it somewhat historically accurate to the time. I have plans to both rewrite some sections of it (are you noticing that I’m never satisfied?), and to eventually add a modern-time installment, but I’m waiting for the urge to return to the series to hit me before I get into any of that.

So those are my babies 💕 I technically have three other series, one of which was a two-fic Halloween series that I wrote mostly as just writing exercises, and the other two currently only have one installment each (and one isn’t even made a series on Ao3 yet). These are just the ones that make up the bulk of my works, so I feel like they’re the best introduction to what you can expect from me :)

Bye~

[zwowow]

Them coming out to their friends?

made possible by @lemon-coke and her knowledge of Kells nd his friends bc my ass was clueless

Em tells Paul over lunch. They’re talking about an upcoming album, possible appearances, and other things Em never cares about, but today isn’t even interested in pretending he gives a shit about. He’s picking at his food while Paul talks over his uncomfortable silence until he can’t stay quiet a minute longer.

“I’m seeing someone.” He says, interrupting Paul mid-sentence. Paul raises his eyebrow and leans back in his chair. Em’s dated people in the last few years, but no one worth mentioning to Paul, no one that makes his palms sweat and his heart race like this.

“Anybody I know?” Paul asks carefully. He knows Em wouldn’t be like this if there wasn’t a catch to the benign sentence ‘I’m seeing someone’.

Em takes a large gulp of his water, the cold liquid burns all the way down, and lubricates the way for an even colder truth.

He tells Paul. Paul laughs like it’s the best joke he’s heard in years. He’s got tears in his eyes and everything, the other restaurant patrons around them look at him, annoyed, but Em just stares.

Paul sobers after a few minutes of laughing and realizes that Em never joined in.

“Machine Gun Kelly?” He leans forward, eyes darting around them to make sure nobody is listening. “Are you fucking serious right now? Please say you’re fucking with me.”

Em purses his lips and tries to keep up the air of nonchalance even as his palms sweat. “I’m dead fucking serious.”

“And you think whatever you’re doing with him is worth it? Because the fallout when people find out is going to be worse than you fucking know.” Paul isn’t chastising, more reminding Em of the consequences of his actions as he’s had to do for over two decades.

But Em doesn’t need a reminder. He’s known what the aftermath of all of this was going to be since they started, and he’s not afraid of it anymore. Paul is asking him if Kells is worth it, and there’s not a part of him that doesn’t believe he is.

“Yeah, I think he’s worth it. Fuck, Paul, it’s like, I don’t know, man, I love him.” He stumbles a bit and Paul’s face softens with every word from disapproval to general confusion.

“I don’t know how the fuck that happened, but if it’s good for you, I’m all for it.”

Em sighs in relief. It’s just one person, but he could do it again. He could tell everybody he knows individually if it meant he could say those words over and over. I love him.

With Kells, it feels like a joke. He pulls Rook, Blaze, and Slim into the dining room and makes them sit down at the table. They look around like they’re on some kind of hidden camera reality show, and Kells would too, if he were in their shoes. There’s just no other way to do this. He can’t tell one of them and not the others, even if sworn to secrecy, the news he’s about to drop couldn’t be easily contained to one person.

Once they’re seated and he’s still standing, wringing his hands together to keep from pulling his fucking hair out, he clears his throat. Six eyes narrow on him and he feels his chest tighten. Maybe it can wait. He doesn’t have to tell them, yet. Em’s only told Paul, he can wait to tell the guys until Em has told three people, it’s only fair.

“You gonna tell us what’s going on or just keep twitching?” Rook looks at him, then raises his eyebrows at Slim like he’s saying ‘you seeing this too’. Kells turns his eyes to his hands to avoid Slim’s response.

He just needs to get this over with. But he can’t make himself speak. What does he even think is going to happen? His friends will hate him? Unlikely. His friends will hate Em? Probably, but that’s just loyalty to him, which he appreciates more than anything. And what if they say he should break up with Em? Would he do it to appease them? Would they ever ask something like that of him?

He’ll never know unless he tells them.

“I’m dating Eminem.” Kells gets the same response Em got from Paul. Laughter resounds from all around the table, Baze even wipes a tear from the corner of his eye he’s laughing so hard.

“Man, I thought you were gonna say something serious. Get the fuck outta here.” Slim grins, but it falls right away when he sees Kells is smiling tightly, not laughing with them. “You serious?” He asks, lower, more serious as the other two calm down too.

Kells nods. The three of them all look like they’re trying to process what he’s said, and the confused faces almost make him laugh.

He does laugh when they start asking questions, uncomfortable giggles and outright howls when Baze said he could’ve predicted it.

Rook sits for hours at the table with a grimace on his face and that makes Kells laugh, too. Even as he’s saying he’s happy Kells found someone that makes him happy his lip is curled up slightly.

Slim remains unconvinced Kells is doing anything but playing a really drawn out prank on them until Kells pulls his phone and pulls up a picture of him and Em in bed together. All three men get in close for a look, and immediately turn away, each of them blushing and apologizing for the doubt.

When he turns the phone back around and looks at it himself, Kells sees what they must have seen and blushes himself. They’re not doing anything in the photo, but the intimacy is undeniable. They’re both shirtless and Em’s face is buried in his neck. Kells is holding the phone up and the two of them make eye contact through the camera. He could look into Em’s eyes forever, and in that photo, he will.

After the picture, his friends don’t have many questions, or don’t have any that they really want the answer too. Instead, one by one, begrudgingly or not, they tell him they’re just happy he finally told them. On his way back to Em’s for the night, Kells can’t think about anything but how happy he is he told them, too.

[sunflowerbi]

Ahsjdkfkf okay another prompt 😆 15 + 37 (scream 😂) but like one where eve doesn't destroy the 3x03 teddy bear ahsjdjd

OKAY. Look. I did it! This was the fic i posted about losing and then rewriting but i’m okay now because i like this better anyway. it’s very dramatic and the quotes come in EVENTUALLY i swear. it’s like 1.5k words in but i promise it’s cute. thank you again for being a gift to, me, personally, by sending me these prompts so that i can force myself to write something. it’s 1.9k words of absolute yearning and gay. hopefully there aren’t too many mistakes because i am too tired to proofread. (It’s also on ao3 if you prefer! link’s in my pinned post) ((translations for the russian are at the end))

“You sleep with the stuffed animal I got you?” “Of course” + “Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep.”  (Sleepy/cozy prompts) ✨

Villanelle moved carefully around the flat, looking everything over. It was nice enough, emptier now with the loss of Niko’s things. Fewer pictures hung on the walls, and the fridge was barer than it used to be. Villanelle certainly appreciated it, finding she much preferred the flat untouched by a man Eve was clinging to only so she could continue pretending to be “normal.” There were still files covering the coffee table, left open as if Eve couldn’t be bothered wasting time closing them. Villanelle loved that; the way Eve threw herself so entirely into her work, into finding answers. She looked again at the postcard on the counter, her own loopy handwriting scrawled across the card, “See you Monday, darling. xx” It was in the same place Villanelle left it Thursday morning, having been in a rush but desperate to communicate with Eve in any small way. She wondered idly if Eve was avoiding the flat, if she would spend the night at someone else’s place just to prevent this meeting. Villanelle doubted Eve would be able to stave off her curiosity, but if she had learned anything it was that she shouldn’t doubt Eve. She hoped, though, that Eve wanted to see her.

            Villanelle had wanted people before, certainly. Had wanted to touch them, kiss them, even on occasion spend time with them. The way she wanted Eve, though, was different. It was desperate and all-consuming. She’d never wanted someone in that way, still didn’t know what to do with it. She’d learned her lesson, knew that if Eve didn’t want her in the same way she had to let her go, but she hadn’t figured out what she was supposed to do in that case. She had never been scared to lose a person before. She was finding she didn’t enjoy it. She just had to wait, though. Eve would arrive eventually, and Villanelle would convince her that she did, in fact, love her, and that she should give them a chance.

Until then, she entertained herself easily enough, fingers flicking through shirts and pants hung neatly in the closet, frowning as she considered how she could improve Eve’s wardrobe. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the turtlenecks, it’s just that she thought Eve deserved nicer ones. Some variety wouldn’t hurt, either, but that was an issue for a later date. (Not too much later, hopefully.) She continued moving around the room, her fingers occasionally passing over objects she found to be of particular interest. Villanelle noticed that Eve’s flat was organized much like Eve’s mind. It was cluttered, items placed seemingly without thought, until you saw her move through the area. She had watched Eve move in this space, and everything flowed naturally to her, just as in her brain. Eve’s conclusions rarely made sense to anyone until they heard her explain exactly how she’d made it there, and then they can’t remember thinking anything different. Just as nobody would be able to figure out why Eve kept her lipstick in the living room unless they’d watch her running late for work, had seen her grab one of them and quickly apply it when she caught herself in the mirror, placed by the door for the same reason. Villanelle almost felt guilty for the way she knew this, having watched Eve before dropping the card off, but the bit of knowledge about Eve, the piece of the woman she’d gained, was far too valuable to her. She reveled in knowing things about her, wanted to keep learning things.

For now, though, she could hear the jostling of a key in the lock, and knew it was time for the end of the stage they were in now. She was done with in between, tired of not knowing. Mystery had its appeal, certainly, but the novelty had long since faded and she needed to know that Eve wanted her the way she wanted Eve. So, when Eve opened the door, Villanelle was sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen, looking out towards the hallway Eve was making her way through.

“You know, most people would just call ahead of time, so they know when to swing by, instead of breaking into people’s flats for fun. You’re lucky my neighbors don’t care about me enough to call someone.” Eve said, more exasperated than surprised by Villanelle’s presence in her kitchen.

“Well, I have never been most people, have I?” Villanelle had collected herself, although she heard her voice falter a bit, disliking how she struggled to find her usually cockiness.

“No, you certainly haven’t.”

“I was worried you were avoiding me, darling Eve.”

Eve rolled her eyes as she grabbed two mugs and a random bottle of wine from her refrigerator, “You know, I have a job, I can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to appear in my kitchen.” She poured the wine, handing one to Villanelle, taking a sip from her own.

“I did not mind waiting, I like looking at your things.” Villanelle explained, as if Eve had been worried about inconveniencing her. “I like what you’ve done with the place, getting rid of the mustache’s things. I have some numbers though, people who could help you redecorate. It’s a bit depressing in here, really.”

“Thank you for the advice, really. So, what did you need to talk to me about?” Eve rolled her eyes, “I’d say it must be important if you had to break into my flat for it, but I have a feeling it could’ve been anything and you still would have broken in.”

“I think you are right, but it just so happens to be important. We have done this twice already; do you have a knife? I do not have a gun this time.” She was trying for humor, but found it fell a bit more desperate, more like begging, please don’t let this end like it did before.

“I have plenty in the kitchen, but since I just walked in the door, I haven’t had to chance to grab one, so no. I wouldn’t stab you again, though, even if I did.” Eve pointed out, a small smile crossing her face.

“That is good to know, for what it’s worth I wouldn’t shoot you again either.” Villanelle looked at her feet, suddenly finding her pink toenails to be of much interest. “You kissed me. We were fighting and then you kissed me and then you hit me again.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I do not understand why you would do that. Were you mad at me or not? You hit me a lot, so I thought you were angry with me, since I shot you and all. Then you kissed me, which is not what people usually do when they are mad at someone.” Villanelle hoped that Eve realized she really didn’t understand, that she really wanted to.

Eve breathed out a small laugh, a fond smile on her face, “Of course I was mad at you, V, you fucking shot me. It’s just that when you’re an inch away from me and you look like you, it’s hard to only feel angry. I wanted to kill you, but mostly I just wanted to kiss you, like I should have in Paris.”

“Oh.” It was nearly silent, a realization inaudible to anyone not entirely focused on Villanelle’s every movement.

“I don’t even know if I’m angry anymore. I should be, you tried to kill me. I did it first, though. God, there’s not a minute I don’t regret pushing that knife into you.” Eve reached out without thinking, her fingers lightly touching Villanelle’s scar over the soft black of her shirt, feeling the mangled line she’d put there.

“I love the scar, though. You gave it to me, and I could never hate anything you gave me.” Villanelle placed her hand on top of Eve’s, tracing a finger along the line.

“I would say I don’t understand, but sometimes I catch my scar in the mirror and I’m struck by how much I miss you.” Eve moved their joined hands over to her own scar, flipping hers over Villanelle’s. She traced the line on her chest where it entered, reveling in the physical representation of all that they felt for each other.

“So, you do miss me?”

“Constantly.”

They fell into each other, hands parting only to find their places on hips and cheeks, Villanelle letting one thread into Eve’s hair. The kiss was slow, a welcome home, please stay. Two women desperate to be done with the chase, to pull each other so close they couldn’t be separated anymore.

“Oksana. I love you.” Eve mumbled it, their lips still fumbling against each other.

“I love you. I love you; I love you Eve.” She spoke it like a prayer, her arms pulling Eve impossibly closer. “Say my name again, please.”

“Oksana.” It was whispered this time, Eve falling in love with the way it rolled off her lips. “Oksana, I need you to stay. Please.”

“Of course. I can’t leave you, Eve. Ty moy ray, ty moyo nebo, ty moyo solntse.” They pulled apart, now, gentle pecks pressed against lips as they did.

Eve pulled Oksana towards the bedroom, stripping out of her work clothes as soon as they arrived. She found comfortable clothes for Oksana and herself before falling into the bed. She was in love, and there were so many things she wanted to do. Right now, though, the day had drained her of all she had, and she wanted to sleep with Oksana in her arms.

“You sleep with the bear I got you?” Eve looked over and saw Oksana holding the fluffy pink animal she’d been unable to get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

“Of course.” Eve smiled, “You gave it to me. How could I ever hate something you gave me?”

Eve tugged Oksana onto the bed, kissing her again.

“I could kiss you forever. I don’t think it would be enough.” Oksana admitted between kisses. She had never been so content, so full of something she’d never experienced but she didn’t think she would stop feeling ever again, not as long as Eve was beside her.

“I hope you’ll try.” Eve ran her fingers down Oksana’s face, tracing the outline of her jaw. “I don’t think I could lose you again.”

“You will not, sweet Eve. I am yours now, forever.”

“We need to sleep. I need to sleep.” Eve whispered, “I can finally sleep now that you’re in my arms.”

“Я хочу́ просыпа́ться с тобо́й ка́ждое у́тро. я хочу спать рядом с тобой навсегда. Ты смысл мое́й жи́зни.”

“Keep talking, your voice helps me sleep. It reminds me that I have you now.” Eve stared into Oksana’s eyes, trying her hardest to pour every bit of love she felt into the look.

“There is a poem, in Russia. I used to read it when I missed you.” Oksana pushed a few loose curls behind Eve’s ear, her fingers taking their time as they traced the outline of her cheek.

“Я люблю тебя здесь и сейчас,

Не тайно - для галочки;

Я горю в твоих лучах - ни до, ни после.

Я не хочу прошлого,

Я не знаю будущего.

Я люблю тебя здесь и сейчас, со слезами и смехом.”

“I love you too, Oksana.” Eve mumbled; her eyelids fluttering shut. As Oksana watched her breathing steady, she felt her own eyes grow heavy, a warm happiness soothing her broken soul.

Russian: 

“You are my heaven, you are my sky, you are my sun”

“I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to sleep next to you forever. You are the meaning of my life.”

Poem is I Love You Now by Vladimir Vysotsky which translates to about:

I love you here and now,

Not secretly - for show;

I'm burning in your rays - neither before nor after.

I do not want the past,

The future I don't know.

I love you here and now, with tears and with laughter.

[raendown]

Gonna just do a bunch of these all at once. 

Quarantine Questionnaire tagged by @a-boy-named-mike

Are you staying home from work/school? From my one job, yes. I do go in to help sort the load for the route we purchased though since that’s an essential service and occasionally I actually go on the route so I’m in and out of stores all night. 

What movies have you watched recently? The Shape of Water, Constantine, Chicken Run, Incredibles 2, Hot Fuzz, Get Out, Shaun of the Dead.

What shows are you watching? Just finished re-watching The Good Place and desperately need the next season like right now. Also need more B99 to hit Canadian Netflix.

Are you a homebody? Yiss.

What music are you listening to? Nothing at the moment.

What are you reading? I have yet to finish An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green becuse i keep getting distracted by fanfiction.

What are you doing for self-care? Trying to eat more veggies. Trying.

20 Questions tagged by @jadeisluck

Name: Rae

Nickname: Newest one is “The Boss” because fiance keeps telling everyone I’m the real boss of our company. 

Zodiac: Sagittarius 

Language: English

Favorite Season: Autumn

Favorite Flowers: White calla lilies 

Favorite Scent: I don’t really have one

Favorite Color: Emerald green

Animal: Wolves

Favorite Fictional Character: Senju Tobirama, Hermione Granger, Tony Stark

Coffee/Tea/Hot Chocolate: Tea, although Hotty Choccy is a close second

Average Sleep: Anywhere between 5-10 hours depending on if i have the next day off and where the moon aligns with the stars and if my cat feels like being a massive dick.

Dogs/Cats: Cats 4 lyfe

Blankets: Right now I have three blankets on my bed but I throw more on or take some off as the seasons change.

Dream Trip: Ireland or Scotland to explore the coasts, a world tour visiting all the most amazing libraries, The Sword and The Stone which is a blacksmith in CA who forges weapons from anime and TV shows and video games.

Blog Established: October 2016

Random Fact: My gotdamn foot is itchy again for the love of Yevon if it doesn’t stop itching I’m cutting the bloody thing off. >:( 

Get To Know Me Tagged by @yee-boii Some of these questions will have the same answers as above

Name: Rae

Gender: Binary Female

Star Sign: Sagittarius 

Height: 5'7″

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hogwarts House: Officially sorted in to Gryffindor, identify somewhere between there and Ravenclaw

Favorite Animal: Wolves

Average Hours of Sleep: Anywhere between 5-10

Current Time: 2:53am. Life is hard for a sleepy bitch when you have to flip your sleep schedule to go to work. -.-

Dogs or Cats: Cats cats cats cats!

Blankets you Sleep With: Three plus the sheets.

Dream Job: At this point I don’t even know. I do not dream of being employed. 

When I Made This Blog: 2016 so about a hundred years ago.

Followers: 2650. I swear I meant to do a raffle celebration at 2500 but I had so much going on. I wanna get to this collaboration I’ve promised to do and then hopefully I have some energy. if y’all got ideas for a raffle I’ve got open ears. I had a plan but I am more than willing to change it if the idea is good enough. 

Why I Made a Tumblr: Legit just to dive head first in to the Naruto fandom. No one I know irl watches the show. 

Reason For URL: It’s a pun on my name and the phrasal verb “rain down”.

Fanfic Authors Tag Game tagged by @malakia215

AO3 name: raendown

Fandoms: Naruto

Number of fics: 395. Although if you break the Soulmate Story Collection in to separate stories then it would actually be 602 and that’s still not including all the little ficlets on tumblr that never got cross-posted. This also does not include all the stories I wrote under a different name for other fandoms back in the day.

1. Fic I spent the most time on: War in Times of Peace

2. Fic I spent the least time on: If we’re talking raw time then probably Breathe which is less than 200 words so it took me no time at all. 

3. Longest fic: WITOP is the longest continuous one. 

4. Shortest fic: Breathe at 173 although there are shorter ones that never got cross-posted. 

5. Most hits: The SSC.

6. Most kudos: The SSC again.

7. Most comment threads: Once again...the SSC. I should have just disqualified it. xD

8. Favourite fic I wrote: God that’s hard to choose. Right now WITOP is like my CHILD but there are so many others that I love too.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Not so much a story as a couple of series. I really want to write the next installment of the Amends to the Dead series as well as the next part of my Super Idiots series. 

10. Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: I have a MadaTobi that I may or may not finish set in a modern au. Tobirama adopted Kagami as a baby and he later meets Madara, his son’s biological uncle who never even knew the child have been put up for adoption. They slowly integrate their lives - all for the sake of the child of course - and fall in love along the way. 

Here’s a little excerpt: 

“I am not obsessed, Izuna. Don’t you want to know too?” 

“Duh,” his brother’s voice crackled in his ear. Damn the poor reception here. “But we’ve basically exhausted all our options. We don’t have the right to demand information from the adoption agency.”

“Well I’m not giving up,” he exclaimed, pressing his pen in to the papers so hard he nearly left a hole instead of his signature. 

“You never do; you’re as stubborn as a goat,” Izuna said. Madara scowled as though his brother might feel his ire through the phone connection and cower in repentance. Unlikely, but a man could hope. 

“I’m hanging up on you.”

[xxfanficnationxx]

Lacuna// Teen wolf Rewrite

Wolf Moon Part 2

Part 1 

Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles x Reader (Eventually)

Warnings: none really 

A/N: I really love to put visuals, its my favorite part of writing. But if it gets too annoying then ill stop. I’m trying to make the reader as bad-ass as possible. I really wanted her to be extroverted and forward, basically the opposite of me. Hope you enjoy!

You awoke early, 30 mins before your alarm. The events from last night still fresh in your mind. It’s time for school, so you began to get ready. Lucky for you, you had been planning your first day outfit for a while, it was laid on your dresser ready. Before you got ready, you went to check your bandage on your leg. It was almost soaked but dry with blood, it looked like it was even turning black. But then… you removed it, and the bite was gone. Completely gone. ‘Did I imagine it all?’ 

You heard keys clinking and steps coming up the stairs. “Knock knock, sleepy head” your aunt began to open the door. You quickly grabbed the bandage and tucked it under the sheets. Thank god it was dried blood. “Oh!” She exclaimed “You’re awake. That’s surprising. You excited to go to school! Make some friends?” She started to dance to you, sitting next to you and poking your sides. Even though she worked a full night shift. She still had so much energy. 

“Ughhh” you groan, falling back into your bed and pulling your pillow up to your face to block her out. “No! No new friends. Just get through the rest of high school.” She stands and starts to walk out. Chuckling to herself lightly. 

“Okay, okay. Well. Get ready! And let me know when we need to go.” She walks out and shuts your door. 

You grabbed the outfit and made your way to the bathroom to do your makeup and hair. You put on your outfit and stare in the mirror. 

You actually look good, taking into consideration how you feel. 

Your aunt dropped you off a little later than the other kids because the principal wanted to meet with you beforehand. You walked onto the walkway leading to the front doors of the school, you saw a girl digging through her bag on the phone with someone. Then a man came walking towards the both of you. 

“Sorry to keep you two girls waiting” she looks up at him then to you. “Allison, this is Y/n.Y/n this is Allison.” She holds out her hand. 

“Nice to meet you.” A gorgeous smile graced upon her lips. 

“Nice to meet you too!” You reply, a bright smile as well. 

“So y/n you from Seattle?” The man states as he walks towards the door. 

“Yes I am, but I lived here before. Years and years ago.” You smile 

“Oh yes, and Allison San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?” He asks as he opens the door. 

“No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family.” She replies. Already peaking your interest 

“Well hopefully beacon hills will be your last stop for a while. Both of you.” He turns his head and looks at you. You smile, nodding your head. He opens a door leading you both in. “Class these are your new students, Allison Argent and Y/n Y/l/n. Please do your best to make them feel welcome.” He exits the room. And you see a seat open by the window. Allison lowers her head and walks to another seat, a boy turning and giving her a pen. She gives him a puzzled look before smiling and saying “Thanks.” 

You sit down setting your stuff down and preparing to highlight the hell of the syllabus. “Well begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page 133.” The teacher says. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder so you turn slightly. “Hi, you said your name was Y/n” you nod feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Did you live here before? My names Stiles.” You lightly gasp as you start to recognize his features. 

“Yes, yes I did live here, umm hi Stiles. I don’t know if you remember me. I mean hell I barely remember you.” You smile. 

“Ms. Y/l/n, please turn around.” You slowly turn to pay attention. Slightly red in the cheeks for already getting called out. 

You feel the boy behind you start to sit up and whispers “I remember the name.” You smile. Still looking forward. Happy he remembers. Even if it’s only slightly. 

The bell rings, finally school ended and you see Allison up at her locker. You decide that it might be easier to be new girls together then apart. “Hi!” She jumps a little you start to say sorry but she stops you.

“Y/n! I’m sorry for being so jumpy! Just a little bit overwhelmed.” She opens her locker pacing her binder in it. 

“Tell me about it” you laugh a little. “So I was thinking you know, it’s probably better being new girls together rather than a-“ some redhead walks up and interrupts you. 

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where’d you get it” you can tell Allison is a bit uncomfortable. She gives you soft look and looks back at the girl. 

“My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco.” She nods slightly

The redhead looks at you. “And that outfit, I can tell I have some competition this year” She laughs. Points at both Allison and you and says “and you two are my new best friends.” 

At this point some boy comes up the her and starts sucking her face. You didn’t even know this girls name, at least you can tell your aunt you already made friends. You jerk your head a bit when you hear a girls voice loud and clear in your ear “can somebody tell me how new girls are here all of five minuets, and they’re already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” You look away, trying not to make it obvious you can hear their conversation clearly. How strange. 

Another voice comes through. You recognize it as Stiles from earlier. “Because they’re hot. Beautiful people herd together.” You blush a little bit. “Scott you see that one girl. Yeah I think that’s y/n from when we were you-“ your focus is cut off from their conversation as Lydia starts to talk about a party this weekend. 

“Yeah Friday night, you should come.” Jackson says looking at you and Allison like we would be insane if we didn’t go. Allison begins making excuses of not going. But honestly to you, it seems fun. 

“Yeah sure totally I’ll go.” Lydia, as you now know because of that one girl from earlier, looks up at you and smiles

“Everyone’s going after the scrimmage” Jackson says. 

“You mean football?” Allison asks. 

“Footballs a joke in beacon.” Jackson laughs “the sport here is lacrosse” interesting. Seattle was all about football. “We’ve won state championship for the past three years.” 

Lydia goes on about how amazing Jackson is but you couldn’t stop thinking about how you could hear the other’s conversation a while ago. Was it just a Fluke. “Perfect. You’re coming” she grabs both Allison and your hands leading you to the field. You sit in between Allison and Lydia, really not excited about being there. You throw a quick text to your aunt about staying after school and that you’d just walk home, she was sleeping, but you liked to make sure she knew what was going on. 

You see stiles walk into the field with the same boy from first period. He didn’t see you, but you couldn’t help but stare. “Who is that” you hear Allison say. 

“Him?” Lydia replies. “I’m not sure who he is.” 

“Isn’t that Scott? Scott Mcall. Always hanging around Stiles?” You say. Making the connection. “We all used to be really good friends when we were young.“ you look away slightly red in the face. 

“He’s in our English class” she says. Then the refs whistle goes off. Scaring you a bit. It was loud. But you look to the field and notice Scott cowering and grabbing his ears just like you, only his seemed worse. You wondered for just a bit if he was experiencing the same thing you have been. 

Scott gets hit in the face and you flinch. That must have hurt. You see stiles in the corner of your eye shake his head. Just like that Scott started to catch balls perfectly. You hear stiles chirp with happiness. Making you smile, he really was goofy. 

“He seems like he’s pretty good!” Allison says. 

“Very good” Lydia replies. 

You start to zone out at this point. Staring at Stiles. He was jumping around like a maniac. He’s actually super cute, isn’t he.

After practice, you make the trek home. Smiling to yourself about how well today actually went. Then you realized something. The bite, it’s healed. So is your wrist. Could the hearing and sense of smell be some kind of response your brain is making to the bite! Is it rabies. Oh dear, I hope it’s not rabies. 

Your scrambled thoughts are interrupted by a car passing by. It’s a bright blue Jeep. It stops abruptly maybe 20 feet or so in front of you. You walk up, slightly worried you’re about to be kidnapped. As you get closer you can hear who's in there. 

“Let’s just pick her up. She walking all by herself. That’s not okay!” You recognized the voice of Scott. 

“Okay, but if she turns out to be some kind of serial killer, coming for revenge of all her childhood friends. I’m leaving you in the dust” Stiles says. You laugh a bit and walked the last 10 feet up to the window. 

“I promise I won’t kill you” You say in an ominous tone. 

“Ahh!” Stiles jumps and turns around. “Jesus, you heard that? How’d you hear that? You were like 20 feet away.” Scott look at you, head cocked a bit and squinted eyes. 

“You speak louder than you think.” You say with a chuckle. “So… a ride?” 

If you have any requests or just want someone to talk to, i’m here!

[snowthunder]

Salty Kisses - A Klance Beach AU - Chp 5 UPDATE 2.0

GUYS WE ARE SO FUCKING SORRY OMG So long story short, Liv (@thetolkiengeek) and I did a lot of story development and wound up completely rewriting chapter 5??? hahahaha it’s fine we’re fine it’ll all be fine 🙃

ANYWAYS. Because we’re making you wait so long, we’ve decided to share another snippet! Hopefully we’ll have chp 5 in all it’s beachey, angsty glory to you soon but, until then, here’s just a taste to hold you over.

Thank you for being patient ^_^ we’re working hard to get you the content you all deserve! As always, feel free to hit us up with questions or comments over on Ao3. We love hearing from you <333

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Keith wasn’t exactly sure why he had his hands full of used plastic cups and paper plates, but he suspected it had something to do the long-limbed boy wiping down a folding table in front of him. Which was odd, considering the fact that said boy had essentially just turned him down not fifteen minutes ago.

What made matters worse was that Keith hadn’t even been the one to make a move.

I really want to kiss you right now.

God, why had Lance said that? And why did it still make Keith’s heart race to think about it?

Keith shoved the trash he held into a plastic bag and peeked over to where Lance was now disassembling the clean table into a flat rectangle.

Part of him wanted to regret the whole thing--regret opening up about his past, regret becoming attached to the people in this sleepy little tourist town, regret ever agreeing to come down and see his brother in the first place.

And yet…

And yet, for the first time in a good long while, Keith could feel the sparks of potential creeping into his life again. The chance to really know someone and be known in return.

In that moment by the water, when he’d had his feet buried in the wet sand, talking about that little yellow camera with the faded sharpie still clinging to the bottom, something had shifted beneath Keith. He hadn’t expected Lance to say anything in response, hadn’t expected the relief of reciprocation, had only wanted to let Lance know that he understood what it felt like to hold the past tightly around your heart like a levy against a storm. But then Lance had offered something of himself in return, had given Keith a glimpse of an iceberg that had been hiding just beneath the surface.

I really want to kiss you right now.

Had Lance said that yesterday, hell, even just three hours ago, things might have turned out very differently. They would have still occupied the realm of attracted strangers, an easily escapable construct of vague familiarity and brevity, quickly started and quickly left behind. As it was, Keith was suddenly struck by how little he actually knew Lance. Had he actually meant those words? Or were they another drink-inspired slip-of-the-tongue? Did Lance feel the same magnetic pull towards Keith that he felt towards Lance? Who was this boy really?

Keith grunted and dug into the sand a little harder than necessary, spraying it across the dying embers of the fire.

“What’re you still doing here?” Lance asked from behind him, clearly surprised to find that Keith hadn’t left with the others.

“Helping.” Keith swept another hand-full of dirt across the remnants of the fire.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what friends do, isn’t it?” He tried not to notice the sting of the word friends as it left his lips.

Keith could hear Lance’s feet shuffling in the sand as he replied. “Right. Friends. Thanks, man.”

Repressing a sigh, Keith turned from the doused fire and set about helping Lance clean up the rest of the party, adamantly refusing to allow himself to think about Lance’s oddly stilted answer.

They worked efficiently, packing away blankets and leftovers into boxes before hauling it all into their arms and out to the parking lot. With everything locked away into Hunk’s van, the two returned to the beach to begin the trek back to Altea and Shiro’s villa.

The beach was good and truly dark without the bright glow of the fire, and Keith would readily admit that he was completely turned around. A warm hand touched briefly at Keith’s elbow, startling him.

Lance pulled his hand back quickly. “Sorry,” he murmured, as if the new darkness demanded quiet. He pointed into the inky night, and started walking. “It’s this way.”

Keith followed after him, keeping just a step shy of Lance’s longer stride, feet trudging through the powder-fine sand. They walked in silence, which suited Keith just fine as his mind was still awash in a hectic frenzy of thoughts. He kept getting caught on the shape of Lance’s lips, how they teased and pulled at dimples and smile lines whenever he spoke. On the way his bronze skin glowed in the bright moonlight, and how his eyes mirrored the dark blue of the ocean.

Yet, with all these thoughts, there was the reminder that no matter how much Keith wanted to find out if Lance’s lips tasted like tequila, or if his hair was as soft as it looked, Lance had made his boundaries clear.

Friends.

“Hey!”

Keith’s head snapped up, eyes picking out traces of Lance’s annoyed face in the darkness.

“Easy on the stomping over there, Bigfoot. You’re getting sand all over my legs.”

“Oh, sorry,” Keith muttered, trying to make his steps just a little lighter.

Even just a couple of hours ago, Keith probably would have pushed back a little bit, maybe made a joke about how flattering it was to be compared to Bigfoot, or even stomping just a little bit harder. He still wanted to do those things, felt compelled to push back against Lance’s teasing, but the word friends floated around and clouded his thoughts.

What did being friends with Lance even mean? Keith hadn’t really considered it before, which probably should have tipped him off even more to the fact that he didn’t really know Lance much at all.

But that moment by the water, where they had decided to open up to each other, that changed everything. Suddenly, Keith wanted more than a simple flirtation, more than a pretty face and a bright smile. He wanted to know more about the Lance hidden beneath the layers of masks he wore. Keith wanted to know how the quiet boy by the water, the boisterous teammate, the caring friend, the flirtatious resort worker, and the man who still cried about his dad all fit together.

Keith had never been one for puzzles, never had the patience required to finish them, but surprisingly he found that he was willing to spend the time necessary to piece Lance together.

“Keith?”

Lance’s soft voice cut through the haze of thoughts and rolling waves. Keith looked up to see that Lance had stopped just before him, the much closer lights of Altea lighting the tips of his hair like a halo.

He worried at his lip, the rosy skin caught between his teeth, and Keith couldn’t tear his eyes away.

I really want to kiss you right now.

The thought came unbidden to his mind again, betraying just how badly Keith had wanted that to happen.

Lance dug a toe into the sand, a sheepish look on his face. “Look, I, uh--I guess I want to apologize?”

Keith felt like he had been doused in cold water. Was he trying to take back what he had said? “Apologize?”

“Well, I feel like I sort of dumped all this stuff on you before, and I didn’t mean to burden you with all my weird baggage, and--”

Keith placed a hand on his hip. “Lance, I literally told you about my tragically deceased parents and a decades old disposable camera. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, but still… Sorry.”

“We’ve been through this,” Keith huffed, though honestly he was feeling more relieved than annoyed. He’d been so hung up on the almost-kiss that he had nearly forgotten how vulnerable Lance must have felt. “How many times are you going to feel guilty over things you shouldn’t?”

Lance held Keith’s gaze, a small, true smile ghosting across his face. “Thanks, Keith. So, we’re good then?”

Keith tilted his head. “Were we ever not?”

“You gonna keep answering my questions with questions, Kogane?”

“You gonna stop asking stupid questions, Sanchez?”

They both paused a moment, staring each other down with deadly serious expressions. But then Lance’s mouth quirked and Keith couldn’t help it when his did the same, and both boys let out soft peels of laughter. Keith’s chest grew lighter with the sound, a little more weight washing away with every laugh, and he thought that maybe this is what friends could feel like with Lance. This easy way of playful antagonism, their comfortable silences, and the warmth Keith felt whenever Lance was near. Maybe this would be enough.

[pinewreaths]

No Place Like Home

Part of Angstmas 2017

“Mabel, is that what I think it is?”

Dipper was staring at the blue woolen object protruding from one end of Mabel’s backpack. They had already unpacked most of the souvenirs they’d collected this summer from Gravity Falls and the surrounding woods, but Dipper suddenly realized that Mabel had been acting awfully careful and antsy around him when unloading her own pack.

It was a Wednesday evening, and they had already finished their chores for the day. Unpacking had been low on the priority list compared to finishing off the assigned summer reading, meeting with visiting friends and family, and catching up on the Ducktective reboot series.

A bit of reluctant shuffling later, and Dipper was sitting, jaw hanging open, as his sister laid out the remaining “souvenirs” she had collected: the size-altering flashlight, its crystal still twinkling even in the dim lights; a tape measure with a triangular infinity symbol on it, humming with what Dipper had long-theorized to be a miniaturized fusion power cell; and a roughly three-foot-square rug, cut and slightly uneven on two edges, but still crackling with static power as she revealed it.

Altogether, Mabel had collected what were probably the only three separate, man-portable devices they had come across in their adventures that could rewrite the laws of reality in not-insignificant ways.

A brief thought passed by about what could have happened had they reacted while being crammed together and jostled through the long bus ride home. He whimpered softly, and then forced himself to take a calming breath.

“We need to take it back.” Mabel gave him a shocked look, trying to summon offence at his statement but merely getting partway there and instead looking angry and guilty all at once.

“What, take it back?” She gestured at the collected items. “Dip, these are like some of the coolest stuff we found all summer that first year! What, you don’t want to have some fun with them at home?”

She grinned. “Like, you could try that shrinking chair trick on Mom and Dad’s dining room set, like you were showing me you’d read about, only this time you don’t have to be a master carpenter to reduce the size by ten percent each day.”

Dipper nodded, rubbing the sparse stubble on his chin while his interior thoughts tried to avoid letting him cackle aloud. Still, Mabel could see the tiny shift in expression, and she smiled.

“Or we could use the time-tape to go on a vacation; spend a week strolling the beaches of a pre-civilization Oakland shoreline, and get back before five minutes have passed with no-one the wiser.”

He nodded again, this time with even more enthusiasm. High school wasn’t hard, per say, but it was draining and a lazy and relaxing getaway seemed like a godsend to catch up on his much-missed sleep.

“And the rug?” He looked towards it, and Mabel’s voice became slightly quieter.

“I, uh, was thinking maybe we could try a day in each-other’s shoes?

Dipper couldn’t place the odd note in her voice, but just nodded carefully. “Uh, ok, but didn’t you say you’d been having a really rough start to this school year?”

She shrugged. “No harder than you’ve been describing, from the sounds of it.” She gave her brother finger-guns and a toothy grin. “I’ll manage.”

Dipper grinned back. “Wanna try that one first, and start out the chair-shrinking tomorrow night?” She nodded, and after carefully unfurling the tiny footrug, they both took each-other’s hand and began shuffling around on the fabric.

There was a flash of blue light, and a shout of triumph.

So far, Dipper’s day had been fine. He had probably gotten some weird looks in art, as the teacher kept giving him glances and asking questions that he soon realized were designed to direct him into leading the class in an activity, or at least raise the general enthusiasm of the otherwise-sleepy morning class.

Two of her classmates, now Dipper’s temporary classmates, snickered behind their hands, and he could feel the heat race up his face in embarrassment. Nicole and...Judy? He struggled to recall, since he didn’t share a class with either of them that he could remember..

Dipper felt like he was three inches tall, and spent the rest of the class buried as far into his sweater as he could manage. Mabel would be a day behind, but he couldn’t engage anyone for right now, and had to just hope she could compensate.

She likes being the center of attention, but every day? Man, nobody can be that perky all the time. She would have to- Dipper suddenly recalled times where his sister was quiet, distant at lunch together, and wondered if he had found out why she always deflected, never talked about why she was-

Oh shit, lunch!

He grabbed his backpack, practically sprinting to the cafeteria, but Mabel, or at least Mabel in his body, didn’t show for first five minutes, then ten. After minute fifteen hit, he began munching on his packed sandwich, when a flash of remembrance hit.

“Oh right, Ensemble practices,” he said to himself.

Poor sis.

She tried. She really, really tried, but it seemed the more effort she put into it, the worse the results were.

Making a noise that sounded like an exasperated sigh transformed through careful avoidance of possibly insulting a student, their band director, Mr. Jameson, waved his hand.

“Again, if you please. Remember, wet your lips, stay in the middle of the reed, and keep the air pressure steady, and we can hopefully avoid more squeaks.”

Mabel did her best to ignore the stares from other band members and glares from fellow clarinet players, and tried as best as she could.

Over the course of the hour-long rehearsal, she continued to try.

In the neighborhood adjacent to the high school, a cat began yowling back in response.

Finally, after what felt like a pair of eternities, she was done.Re-emerging into the sunlight, Mabel noticed the empty cafeteria, and a gurgle of her stomach reminded her of the time.

Shoot, missed lunch with Dip. Hope his afternoon is going okay, she thought as she peeled open her yogurt container.

“Well well well, look at the little slag who was hiding in here.”

Dipper glanced up from where he had been washing his face. A misadventure with the eyeball they had dissected in science class had ejected some clear goo back onto him. Despite the insistence of the giggling teacher, he hadn’t found the experience “humorous,” and the class seemed somewhat surprised that he had insisted on running off to get cleaned off rather than just sitting and joking about having sheep eyeball gloop on his face.

It had been exhausting trying to keep his head up. Everyone seemed to expect him to be happy, laughing, joking, all the time. It was earning him weird looks, but Dipper ran out of the trademark Mabel smile-power after the first three periods, and had spent most of the day neutral, or perhaps his slightly aggravated normal resting expression.

And now, on top of all that, he had to deal with this. Still, after dealing with a demonic pyramid before he was even thirteen, the idea two jerks could scare him was laughable even to-

“So, slag, still got the hots for him, eh?”

“Who?” Dipper barely cared: Mabel had a boyfriend a month. None seemed to last long enough to bother committing to memory, and she was between boyfriends at the moment when he had asked her last evening. The girl, Judy, I think, had begun to smirk.

“Who else? Same one as always.” Same one? His brow creased in confusion. Mabel’s longest boyfriend had been her on-again-off-again penpal setup with Mermando, and even that was clearly not a serious thing once she’d gotten the first waterlogged postcard at home. Other than that, he doubted a single guy had lasted more than two months in direct exposure to the full zanyness of his sister. There just wasn’t anyone-

“Earth to perv-girl?” Fingers were snapped in front of his face, and he started.

Judy’s smirk continued as Nicole joined in as well. “Doy? Man, you’ve been crushing on him for at least five years, and you forgot your own brother’s name?”

Dipper felt his chest lurch.

Nicole saw the realization in his eyes, and pressed onwards. “Like, we all knew something was up when you made him that dweeby valentine, but man, you make it obvious.” She began counting, ticking off a list on her manicured nails. “Staring at him like a lovesick puppy every time you see him in the hall; writing a novel every time there’s a writing assignment about siblings; and of course, that time we heard you, heh, moaning out…’Dipper, oh Dipper’”

Her tone was mocking, but beneath the naked surprise and worry, Dipper could feel a flutter stirring. She felt the-the same way? I had always thought it was gross, something I should never think about, but it always seemed to spring back, like the idea was stronger than it would have been for something not real.

He took in a slow breath, and his mind pulled forward the memory of last night, kneeling in front of a mirror while nude, his hands exploring new sensations and feelings, no longer constrained to his mind’s eye.

Afterwards he had almost cried, the shame burning in his gut like a parasitic worm, but now?

Now I wonder if she had done the same.

Judy made a retching noise. “Ugh, you fucking pervy slag! You’re fantasizing about him right now, aren’t you?” Dipper’s silence was betrayed by a slight flush, and the two girls just fake-gagged again. “You are! You going to go run off and jump on your brother’s dick now, you incestuous cow?”

Dipper didn’t meet their eyes, the flush of feelings and worries and excitements and guilt all mashing together into a trainwreck he couldn’t untangle. He felt his breath catch and his eyes water, and he felt as much as heard the two girls spit on his sweater.

“Fucking trash right here, eh? You sick fuck, don’t bother getting up till we’re gone.” She turned away, but then turned back as if a spare thought had struck her.

“And remember, you say shit? You complain that we’re reminding you not to jump your brother and fuck out a little retarded half-kid? We tell everybody, and I mean fucking everybody, exactly what a depraved bitch you really are.”

She grinned, her too-perfect teeth perfectly white in the fluorescent light. “Toodles.”

They stalked out, the door snapping shut behind them. Dipper just went into a stall, slumped heavily on one of the toilets, and cried.

Mabel practically dragged him onto the rug, saying something about “I’ve had enough being stubbly, please and thank you.” There was a shuffle, a flash of light, and Dipper felt the familiar feelings of his old body once more.

There seemed to be a slight ringing in his ears, but he barely cared. He still felt numb, and Mabel sat next to him with a look of concern. The twin spit-stains had been carefully scrubbed off and out of the sweater, and dried so they were invisible, but glancing over to his sister Dipper thought he could still see them clear as day.

“Dip? What’s up?”

He sighed, and was quiet for a long moment. Then he muttered “I met Judy and Nicole today.”

It was like he had stung Mabel with a cattle prod. She stiffened, and said nothing. He could only imagine the flood of emotions running through her head as she slowly said “Sooo, what did you think of my, uh, ‘friends’?” She said the name with air quotes with her fingers, and he snorted with amusement before going quiet again, collecting his thoughts.

Finally he steeled himself, resolving to cut past all the bullshit rather than dance around the subject. “Mabes, do-do you really have feelings for me?”

Her breath caught, and as he looked to her face she looked away. When she spoke, her head was still twisted away from him, and she said in almost a whisper “Wou-would it be so bad if I did?”

He grinned, and reached out to grasp her hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he went to interlace his fingers through hers, and her head slowly turned, disbelief and joy and confusion and excitement in equal parts dancing across her features.

“Nope. Not in the slightest.” After a moment, he grinned back. “Mabes, I really like-love you, too.”

She let out a short breath of surprise and shock, a huge grin still plastered across her face. Dipper leaned forward, to give her a small peck if she wanted; besides his mother and grandmother and a single merman, Dipper had never really kissed anyone, and he decided not to overdo it in case Hollywood had been wrong about technique and he just made a fool of himself.

Mabel, however, nearly lunged forward, meeting his lips with hers in a loving and prolonged kiss, before he felt her lips part slightly as she took part of his lip inter her mouth. She giggled, pulling back and smiling as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“So, um, can I just be the first one to say-” she stuck her fingers into the air and wiggled a little dance “-Yaaaay!”

Dipper grinned, feeling warmth suffusing his entire being, but a nugget of fear and anxiety remained. Mael noticed as his expression fell somewhat, and then hers fell as well.

“Yeah, those two…” She sighed, then shrugged. “We’ll need to be super-careful, Dip, but I do worry about those two jerkwads.” She met his gaze, biting her lip. “I mean, what if they find out their hunch was right?”

Dipper patted her knee absent-mindedly, his thoughts racing. “We’ll figure something out.”

That night, as Mabel curled up against him, Dipper carefully extricated himself from the covers. She groaned in her sleep, a little whimpering noise that made him smile a bit before he steeled himself to the task.

It’s going to be an ugly few years, if my estimates are correct, but it’ll be worth it.

He pulled out a specific item from their bundle, an old winter balaclava, and rummaging for a bit, found the perfect plastic doll on Mabel’s shelves.

Then he pulled the time-tape, and disappeared in a flash of light.

The kindergarten class was just getting started; names had been passed around, a few songs had been sung, and now it was quiet time for the kids to “make a new friend” from among their classmates.

The teacher had encouraged Dipper and Mabel to find different friends, despite being in the same class. They hadn’t been pleased, but had eventually agreed, and Dipper could see his past self in a corner of the room as he glanced through the doorway.

The fake beard itched, and the gaudy red sunglasses were even worse, but Grunkle Stan had managed to instill in Dipper that the best disguise was one that covered major identifying facial features, and an obtuse characteristic that was false, and ideal for fixation.

Hence, the hippie-era sunglasses.

He made himself busy, acting as a “parent” volunteer, but kept an eye on Mabel and the equally-young Judy and Nicole. Sure enough, he could see them starting to push over his sister, saying something mean that was causing her to almost cry.

Dipper leaned forward, placing the grotesque plastic doll right behind the girls. He gently tapped a shoulder before turning, his back to them as they discovered the hideous winged creature of the doll. There was a shriek, and as the girls looked up to the teacher, Dipper flicked on the flashlight up his sleeve. In a subtle shower of pink light, the doll vanished to the microscopic scale. He savored a few minutes of the girls swearing it had been there a minute ago, then excused himself into the hallway.

A flash of blue light, and he had the doll in-hand once more. The memory of having it removed from his pocket earlier formed, but Dipper had learned not to worry too much about the paradox aspect of it; although Ford would never admit to it, the paradox issues tended not to be too severe of an issue at all so long as you didn't think too hard about it and didn’t try to fix it.

He appeared in classrooms for kindergarten, then early elementary, then late. Each time, when the two bullies would pick on his twin, Dipper enlarged the doll, making it larger each time, vanishing it as soon as they called for help or someone else would easily see.

While memories in a paradox were easily the strongest only for the tape-wielder, an echo of the memories still persisted in others as well, and each time the screams got louder, more shrill, terrified, frantic. Once or twice someone would catch a glimpse of the doll, but a search never produced the actual doll after he had shrunken it to the size of a dust mote.

In fifth grade, as they giggled and fished out a huge valentine made from other cards from the recycle bin, on top of the existing pile of discarded cards from the other classmates, he enlarged the doll much larger than before. It went from being the size of his hand to huge, tall enough to cast a distinct shadow over the two. They both froze; Nicole started to cry a little, still refusing to turn around, but then Dipper shrank the doll after a long half-minute and vanished alongside it.

The jaunts continued, skipping through time until he finally reached the fateful day. The girls had almost sprinted out of the bathroom, breaking into a pile of malicious giggles as Mabel’s tears could be heard from within the restroom.

“Oh my gawd, did you hear her? She totally does have a thing for her-”

Dipper struck. In a flash, a black cotton bedsheet was thrown as both girls were reduced to the size of beetles. Careful to avoid crushing them, Dipper wrapped the sheet around to keep them trapped, as their high-pitched screams and shouted curses were almost inaudible.

Then he dropped the doll into the ball of clothing, and the screams cut off as quickly as they began. Moving his head to the fabric near where the figure came to a rest, he hissed in the most angry voice he could summon “If you ever do this again, I will find you.” He gave the bag a gentle shake. “I will trap you.” He shook the bag again.

“And I will crush your bones beneath my teeth.”

A final shake, and then he gently laid them out onto the sidewalk and enlarged them. Nicole was unconscious, her wrist at an unnatural angle, but Judy was conscious, eyes clenched shut, whimpering. Whisking the blanket away, Dipper vanished in the tape’s blue flare before she could open her eyes to see what had happened.

Morning came, and with it Dipper was more tired than he had ever felt before. By his reckoning, almost a year and a half had elapsed last night, but it was worth it.

As Mabel finished pulling on her sweater for the day and gave Dipper a warm smile tinged with the worry from last night, he just yawned and smiled, handing her the doll.

Mabel just cocked her head in confusion, and Dipper grinned.

“Think of it as jerk repellant.”

She cocked her head again, but just shrugged and tucked the doll into her purse with the owlish, milky-white and too-large-eyed face sticking out. Tucking her arm through his, the twins walked downstairs into the newest chapter of their lives.

Together.

Prompt from @bizarrejoe: Glad you're back again. Here my request for this angstmas: After coming back from GF, dipper and Mabel brought back souvenirs, like the time traveling tape and the size altering torch, and well a cutout of the body swapping rug. After a discussion, they decide to use it to experience each other's life. They realize that they didn't imagine the kind of hell each other went through on their daily lives.