#so i’m sorry if i’ve been exploding all over anyones dash

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 13: Blessings In Disguise

Still no sign of Thomas. He’s still asleep, and the memory of our last encounter still runs a chill down my spine. Is he still upset? I didn’t intend to make him mad but he has to understand that it’s his own doing that’s digging him this hole of chaos. 

“Eat up, Finn,” I urge as I pass him some eggs. 

The young Shelby does quick work to devour his breakfast and goes to grab his hat.

“Whoa, whoa! Where’s the fire?” 

“‘M late for something,” he replies before dashing out the door.

I guess there’s never a quiet moment in this house-

“Morning.”

As I said. Never quiet.

“Morning, Mr. Shelby,” I answer quietly as Thomas steps in. His tone is much less gruff that I expected. Maybe he’s forgotten-

“About yesterday…”

He didn’t forget.

“You don’t decide my life, Steenstra. Same as how I don’t decide yours. Are we square?”

I sigh heavily and loom up at him with concerned eyes. “I know. You bring this on yourself, whether you might want it or not. I will apologize, so long as you apologize for letting your temper loose.”

The Peaky Blinder’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me? You want me to say sorry for yelling? Are you really that soft?”

Bam!

I slam my own fist onto the table and Thomas reaches for his pistol.

“That’s what it feels like, Thomas. To step on eggshells, not knowing what little thing might set the gunpowder off. What might set you off.”

Those blue eyes’ cold stare softens and I think he gets my point.

“I’m sorry,” I start.

Thomas nods. “I’m s-”

Just then John walks in. “Tommy! What gives?” He gestures to the gun and Thomas slips it back into its holster. “Tell her what happened, eh? We’ve got leverage, Verena! Met with some new partners at the Garrison yesterday.”

“Billy Kimber himself even made an appearance,” Thomas says.

Kimber? I thought I heard Polly call that bloke a piece of bad news. 

“Might have an alliance forming,” John agrees.

“You’re playing with fire,” I scold lightly and start to roll out more bread dough.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Thomas walk over and whisper smugly: “I don’t catch fire. Fire catches me, love.”

John rolls his eyes at his stupid pun and walks off towards the office. I expect Thomas to follow but instead he sits down and takes a drink. How is this man still alive from all this whiskey?

“Something’s wrong. What are you stressed about, hm? You look like you’re about to explode.”

Thomas sighs and pinches his forehead. “Ada and Freddie are still here.”

“So?” One would think Ada and Freddie’s close location would be a good thing, or at least that’s what my family is like. We all stick close to the same spot.

“I made a deal with the copper that he’d be run out of town.”

I dust the flower off my hands and gesture to Thomas. “Like I said. Playing with fire. Between that, the guns, and this Kimber fellow, I don’t know who’s going to kill you first.”

The blue-eyed gangster looks up at me with a teasing gaze. “You’d be sad to see that, eh?”

“It’d mean I lose my job.”

Yes, I would be sad to see Thomas dead. It’s sad to see anybody dead. After the trust I’ve earned from him it’s not easy to ignore my growing attachment. Mother always says my feelings are what trips me up. Either I lash out to establish my pride or have an overabundance of attachment for people I barely know. I got that from father. He can make friends with anyone.

“Do you have any work for me today, Mr. Shelby?”

“You’ve done enough this week. Take a day off.”

He doesn’t mean just housework. Throughout the week Polly’s been showing me the ropes of banking and record keeping for the Peaky Blinders. Thank God I’m halfway decent at basic math or I’d be sunk, though I do admit having to shift to British currency is a tricky reminder.

“Thank you, sir.”

I know exactly what I’m doing for my day off. After Thomas leaves for Lord knows what business I finish prepping the bread and set it out to rise before leaving the house myself. Thankfully Campbell’s been keeping out of my hair and bothering Thomas instead so I shouldn’t have any predicaments pop up.

The church is one of the only places here I can find a sense of peace. The afternoon sun glinting through the clouds casts warm shadows through the stained glass windows. The only offsetting about this scene is the person I spot in the back of the pews. Never once have I pictured Arthur Shelby as a religious man.

“You come here too?” I ask as I approach him and sit in the aisle across.

Arthur glares down at me. “You think I’m out of place?”

I shake my head to show no hostility. “Everyone is welcomed in the house of God. I just never expected you to walk in. Something wrong?”

He grunts and looks away. “Private stuff. You’re just the help.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean my job defines me as a person. We don’t have to talk about what’s wrong, I’m just here if anyone feels like talking.”

With that I leave him to be with his thoughts and kneel to pray. Lord, these are good people who happen to be faced with rough situations. If you could please allow them just a brief peace of mind I would be most grateful-

“I still don’t know how you got Tommy to trust you.”

I look up at the oldest Shelby brother. His face has changed to one of a tired man, one who’s worn down.

“People keep asking me questions that I don’t know the answers to. All about Ada, the Black Swan Paddy, something about guns and the BSA.”

Ada I understand. As for the other two I haven’t heard a thing about them. Obviously the Paddy wasn’t a member of Uncle Colon’s family or else I would recognize him.

“Your family has a strong role in this community. That is an honorable position but also one that comes with high responsibility. You probably expect me to say some nonsense about ‘good things come to those who wait’ and all that. That can be true. But between you and your brothers I know you’re not patient enough to wait. So I will say this: no one has the answers for everything, Mr. Shelby. Try as we might there are always unanswered questions. To some that might seem scary, but I like to think of it as a chance to put faith in God. Whatever the plan is, I can’t control it. Neither of us can. So only worry about the small things you can control now.” I stand up and gesture to the church. “Can you do anything about suppressing rumors right here, right now?”

Arthur slumps in his seat. “No.”

“Then don’t stress over it. I know that won’t help much but mind tricks have a way of improving tricky circumstances.”

A few moments go by as Arthur thinks through my advice. Honestly I don’t even know where all of this wisdom is suddenly pouring from me. Sometimes my brothers say that just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean they’re smarter. Not by a long shot. But what sense does it make for a random American woman to have to teach such things to criminal gangsters?

“You seem to have a lot of hope,” Arthur says after a while.

The hint of a smile at the corners of his mustache is payment enough. “Even in this gloomy place, there is always a sliver of hope if one is willing to look hard enough, Mr. Shelby.”

“You know, you’re alright, Steenstra. Suppose I pegged you as any other loud-mouth ditsy broad that skips across the pond.”

My own smile tugs at my lips though I do well to suppress my joy. There. Now all of my employers don’t hate me. 

“Hello.”

Arthur and I both glance over at Thomas, who’s standing in the doorway.

“Never expected you two to become chummy.”

My eyes narrow in consideration. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Thomas lets out a grunt and goes on to sit next to Arthur. “Well on that note, I’m here to talk to my brother. So would you mind…?”

“Not in the slightest.” I stand up and give a nod to Arthur. “Feel better, Mr. Shelby.”

Thomas’ nose scrunches. “I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I reply and pivot to walk back down the aisle. Have I forgotten his temper tantrum? No I have not. 

For the rest of my day off I finish baking my bread and even a few batches of cookies for John. Once that’s done I decide to try and find a park of sorts. 

“There’s a small patch of grass that’s considered a park on the other side of town,” Polly says when I ask her. “Though keep your wits about. There’s trouble there for unescorted women.”

I flash her the pistol tucked into my skirt. “That’s why I'm bringing this little helper.”

“Smart girl.”

It’s been nearly a month since the Shelbys have taken me in. Whenever I ask Polly about my debt toll she never gives me a straight answer. Part of me is starting to suspect she doesn't want me to leave so soon. Between Thomas and Ada’s words of praise I’m beginning to think me being stuck here is a blessing in disguise. Over the past weeks I’ve gotten a feel of the land so Polly’s directions steer me right to my destination. And she’s right. This is no park. This place makes Central Park look like the Smoky Mountains! But a walk in the park is a walk in the… patch of grass? Whatever. I’m outside, that’s what counts.

“Polly said you’d be here,” a voice calls from behind.

Is Thomas stalking me? Jesus, is being his go-to for venting make him this- this… watchful? Does he think I’ll tell someone?

“Come to scorn me for doing what you can’t?” When Thomas cocks his head in confusion I fill in the blanks. “Me helping your brother?”

He pats my shoulder and pulls out a cigarette. “I told him not to worry.”

That’s it? “You know you can’t just slap a bandaid on something like this and expect people to be ok. Your brother’s been through a lot, as have you. Nobody should go on keeping secrets in their own family.”

“I made up for it,” Thomas replies lazily. “I bought him a pub. He seemed excited.”

A pub? That’s wonderful! A distraction is just what Arthur needs. If he’s as excited as Thomas says, this will be good for both him and the Peaky Blinders.

I stop walking and look up at Thomas with a bewildered smile. “Just when I think all emotion has been drained out of you, you still surprise me, Thomas.”

He squints. “You call me that. I notice you haven’t been addressing me as ‘Mr. Shelby.’”

“You said we were on a first name basis,” I shrug. “Would you rather I return to calling you Mr. Shelby? It’s kind of confusing when there’s four of you.”

“Oh no, love. A first-name basis is just fine.”

[the12thnightproject]

Tempest in Time Prologue Part One - The Wormhole

Katsuko and her brother Toshiie are pulled through a wormhole to Japan, 1575

“Did you repair the drone?” I didn’t bother with a greeting.

Toshiie remedied my omission. “Hello. How was your week? I’ve missed you.” His snark burned through the 4G network. You’ve heard those stories of exploding telephones? If sarcasm could explode a phone, my brother would have killed three of mine already. “And yes, it’s fixed.”

I impatiently picked at my toenail while I went through the niceties with my twin. “Sorry. Hello. How was your week? I’ve missed you.” I had missed him, actually. At least as much as I missed anyone.

“Someone threw up in bio lab. That was the highlight.”

“Ew.” And he likely wasn’t being sarcastic. Knowing Tosh, it might have truly been the highlight of his week. He was studying nursing, with an eye to someday going to Medical School, so vomit and blood and bodies never bothered him. As a perpetually overworked student, his life was the lab, homework, and sleep.

Good thing he had me to break him out of his patterns. “Just dropped a pin to your phone – can you meet me there in an hour? Bring the drone.”

A loud sigh attacked my eardrum. “Katsuko, I have exams to study for. So do you.”

I was half-heartedly studying physical therapy. Very half-heartedly. These days there wasn’t much I was doing full hearted. Except…

“Please, please, please!” I had already changed from the outfit I had worn to class that morning, into sports bra, tank, and sweats. I stuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder, so I could I tape up my wrists. I knew Tosh wouldn’t turn me down.

With another (overly) dramatic sigh, he agreed. “Fine. See you in sixty.”

This time, Tosh was the one who skipped the greeting, hanging up without a goodbye. That’s typical of us. I hate saying hello. Tosh hates goodbye.

Sixty minutes was enough time to grab my beloved blue hoodie, my phone, a couple bottles of water, and some vegan power bars. I stuffed them all in my backpack, and ran out the door…

... and ran back in to grab my IC card.

As I dashed out the building again, I bundled my turquoise streaked hair in a lopsided ponytail, IC card clenched in my teeth as I chased down the bus.

In less than an hour, I was warming up in front of a three-story building, plotting out my route.

Tosh was late, as usual. I sometimes teased him about living on Toshiie time, but I was used to building an extra ten minutes into a schedule if I really needed him to be punctual. Eventually, he rolled up while I was pacing out the dimensions of the courtyard in front of a three story building. I watched him park his moped, then jog down the sidewalk, ignoring the admiring glances he was drawing from men and women alike.

You know how in some families, one kid gets the looks, and one kid gets the brains? Beautiful, brilliant Toshiie got both.

Me? I got the –

Thwack!

I winced as Tosh tripped over air.

-Coordination.

He stumbled a few steps toward me. I rushed forward to rescue his gear bag, knowing it was full of expensive camera equipment.

“Oh sure, save the bag, let your brother fall on his face,” Tosh grumbled.

“You just got this fixed from the last time.” I unpacked the drone.

He nodded, seeing my point. “What’s your route?”

I gestured to a series of railings, the exterior stairs, and the roof. “If you can, get hand-held for a wide angle, and send the drone above. Once I’m on the roof, meet me behind the building – there’s a park, and get ready to track my descent.”

There was no reason to explain any more. What’s the phrase – it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

My warm up complete, I centered myself in a handstand while Tosh set up the cameras. Once he gave me a thumbs up, I flipped back to my feet and took off…

It’s called Freerunning. That use of obstacles to propel yourself through space, using your hands, feet and the environment as you nearly fly up, down, across, and under the landscape. Martial artists might call it by the French term, parkour, but I love the word freerunning. Free running.

Running free.

I hopped from one railing to another, balancing briefly on metal as I jumped over the side of the stairwell, then bounced to the wall of the next landing – zig zagging up levels until I flipped onto the roof. With a handspring for extra flair, I zipped across the rooftop.

When I was little, my mother, “exhausted” (her word) by my bouncing around our apartment, enrolled me in artistic gymnastics. That was fun for a few years, but I got bored with all the rules. Now, it’s me and the sky.

In winter, that means snowboarding every chance I get. In summer?

Running free.

At the other end of the rooftop, a metal safety rail lined the edge. I jumped up on the railing and impulsively tried a handstand and – the something shimmered in my peripheral vision, almost like the horizon was put together unevenly, no, that must have been the drone hovering — I shook my head to clear it, then--

Whoa! Ok. Balance check there.

That could have been bad… but what a rush!

Off I went again, ricocheting between the walls of the two buildings, and somersaulting into the park. I vaulted over the railing, jumped up to catch a bar of the jungle gym, using momentum to swing to another bar before throwing myself toward the soft sand at the end.

Out of breath, I slammed a water while Tosh recalled the drone and played back the footage.

“Fuck!” He was frowning into the camera.

“What, didn’t it record?” I rested my chin on his shoulder to peer at the replay. It looked like it recorded. It was already uploaded to the cloud, in fact.

“It recorded.” He rewound the video to the moment where it looked like I had almost fallen off the roof railing. “Katsuko – you could have been killed.”

“I wasn’t, though.” I broke into my energy bar stash and offered him one.

He pushed it away. “I’m done.”

I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Wait. Don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” But he hugged me in spite of his harsh tone. “I can’t keep watching you chase death.”

“Stop it. I’m not like that.” I’m not like her. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“I…I don’t know.” It was the truth. All I knew is that I had to keep running, or there would come a day when I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

No need to specify where. When Toshiie and I needed a place to talk or to think, or both, we’d head out to the Togakushi Shrine area. It was the one place that seemed to speak to both of us, although I knew that Tosh preferred the shrines, while I was happiest on the trails.

We took his bike out to the shrine, and once there, walked quietly through the 400 year old cedar trees that marked the path to the upper shrine. Finally he asked, “If I begged you to stop, could you?”

My throat closed up at the thought. “What is this? An intervention? It’s not like I’m an addict.”

“I think you kind of are, actually.”

Seriously? His Introduction to Psychology course was going to his head. But I knew that he meant every word. “Wait, ok, how about this. I’ll stop taking extreme risks, ok?” I could do that. At least I wouldn’t take any risks if he was watching. In a few months, when the mountains were covered with snow, I’d take my board out to X-JAM as often as possible, and scratch my risk-taking itch on the half-pipe. So… really, I only had to behave through the rest of summer and fall.

CRASH! BOOM!

Distracted by our discussion, we hadn’t noticed the weather changing, until the crackle of lightning startled both of us. Within minutes, rain was pouring buckets. 

“Once again, the weather forecast was completely wrong.” Tosh muttered curses at the weatherman as he tried to keep the rain off his gear.

The timing was bad, but aside from that, I love storms. Something about the electricity in the air makes me feel more alive. I tilted my face to the sky and – “That’s weird.”

“It’s water, doofus.” Getting rained on makes Tosh cranky.

The entire landscape was vanishing under a dark mist. “Tosh, have you ever seen a fog bank in a storm?”

“What are you -?” He finally looked up from his camera. “You’re right. This is weird.”

It was still thundering and lightning, but the rain had turned to a thick soupy fog that blotted out almost all light, the seeped around and into my body. We were fading, becoming as unsubstantial as the mist that poured through us.

Tosh raised his hand. It looked translucent. “What the hell?!” His words came out as a whisper, as if the fog had invaded his throat.

I felt dizzy and ill, like the time after I broke my ankle and had had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia. Tosh grabbed onto me, his arms spasmed around my back. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his shoulder. I could feel he was shaking, or maybe that was me, and then-

THUNK. The two of us crashed onto the ground, onto a carpet of what smelled like pine needles?

I cautiously opened my eyes. Yep. Pine needles. The storm had passed as quickly as it had begun, and the sun was as bright as midday, though it had to be close to eight or nine p.m. But in the bright sunlight, I felt cold. And… was that sn-?

Brrrrr – my hoodie was not nearly warm enough any more. But I was better off than Tosh in his windbreaker. “But, it’s summer,” was all I could think to say. I rubbed my hands together. “Reverse global warming?”

“Actually global warming has been known to cause odd weather patterns,” Tosh said absently as he fiddled with his phone. “No bars.”

I got mine out. Nope. No bars, no GPS.

Something else seemed… eerie. It was silence. The daily hum of electricity, distant traffic, airplanes, that background white noise was all the more conspicuous for its absence.

“The footpath is gone.” Tosh kicked at the now overgrown carpet of brush below us.

“So are the cedar trees.” We were still in a forest of sort, but the comforting presence of the giant cedars was no longer there.

“Theory?” In the back of my head was a rather loud voice telling me that there had been an apocalypse and we were both dead. Funny, after spending the last year of my life not caring whether or not I lived or died, now that the possibility was in front of me, I really hoped I wasn’t dead.

He held up three fingers. “I got three. Apocalypse – like the snap in The Infinity Gauntlet.”

So he was on the same mental path that I was. But were we victims of the snap, or the only ones left behind? “Or…?”

“Or maybe we’ve somehow slipped into a different version of our universe?” One finger left. “Or, maybe it’s something simpler. One of us is dreaming.”

Dream. Yeah. A dream would be an acceptable explanation. “You couldn’t have led with the theory that doesn’t involve mass death?”

Tosh shrugged. “I went with the bad news fir-“

“Shhh!” I put my hand over his mouth.

What was that noise?

The clang of metal.

Harsh voices…

Hoofbeats… horses?

Tosh and I held still, unsure whether this new twist would be an improvement or make things worse?

A group of men in armor – dressed as samurai?! – burst out of the trees, brandishing swords and pikes.

“Whoa!” Tosh looked at the lacquered armor that covered the warriors. “Someone’s LARP group is uber committed.”

The person who appeared to be their leader barked something at us, but their dialect and accent was harsh and unfamiliar. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were saying. But the gist was something along the lines of robbery and enslavement… I think…? Tosh and I looked at each other, and wordlessly decided that our best bet was to run.

Unfortunately, immediate danger didn’t make Tosh any less clumsy. He went sprawling over a log, and while I was trying to help him to his feet we were surrounded. “Tosh, do you understand what they are saying?”

He shook his head. “I think they want to sell us… to the nanban?”

I had no idea what the nanban was or why it wanted buy people, but they were examining us like merchandise, so that was probably the correct interpretation. They pulled my hair out of its ponytail, marveling over the turquoise streaks, which apparently meant they could get more money for me?

That’s enough! When one of them checked my teeth, I bit him. That earned me a hard punch to the stomach. Another man was fascinated by the zipper on my hoodie. When he managed to unzip it and got a look at my thin tank top, he muttered, “Woman.”

Alright, the good news at least is that I was developing a better ear for their dialect. The bad news was that I didn’t actually want to know what they planned to do with a female prisoner. When the leader came in to take a closer examination of my body, I reacted instinctively and kicked out. I saw the punch coming at me …

Oh this is going to hur--

What brought me back to consciousness was the sensation of cold and damp -- I had been dumped into a snow bank. There were sounds of clanking metal again, yelling, grunts, then a yelp of pain. I opened my eyes to see the apparent leader of the bandit gang fighting with an old man (said “old man” would, if he could hear me, object to me characterizing him that way, but in that moment, he seemed quite elderly). The old man had amazing fighting abilities, whirling and punching with a spear.

In no time, my captor was groaning on the ground, his leg bent at an odd angle.

“Come on child.” My rescuer hurried to my side and wrapped me up in a warm cloak. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

Still dizzy from the blow to the head, it took a moment to realize that… “Wait. Where are the others?” Where’s Toshiie?

“Others? There was this one man and you.” The man gave a shrill whistle, and a horse whinnied in the distance, then trotted up to us.

I explained what had happened with the bandits. “The rest of them must still have my brother. We have to go back to get him.”

He shook his head. “They’re long gone by now.” But in spite of his protest, he took me up on his horse, and we headed back through the trees. He was correct though – they were long gone.

“Is there a way to track them?” If this man could fight, then maybe he could-

“Not in this storm.” The snow had increased from light cotton balls to a swirling curtain of fat flakes. I shuddered, partially from the cold, partially from the fear that this was another storm that would pick me up and dump me somewhere else. Somewhere worse, than wherever here was. I flinched from the thought of what would be worse than armed bandits who wanted to sell me into slavery.

Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs would be worse.

After a long, cold and ride up a steep path, we arrived at gated manor near the top of the mountain. The storm was raging, and my teeth were chattering by then. The man gave my outfit a critical look. “Do you have any other clothing? Anything more suited for a woman?”

“No. When I left my – home – this afternoon, I expected to return in a couple hours.” I had no idea how much time (ha!) had passed. More than a couple of hours. More than a day. More than a century.

He helped me down – my legs had gotten cramped and stiff during the ride. “Where is your home? When the storm ends, I can send one of my apprentices to take you back.”

“It’s not going to be that simple,” I said, after getting a good look at a building that looked like it had been constructed recently – but it was an architectural style that I recognized from samurai houses that I had visited on school trips. That, along with the evidence of the missing cedar trees, and the men in armor, was leading me to a conclusion that I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t been in the middle of it.

But to announce that I was from a few hundred years in the future seemed to me to be the fastest way to get a one-way ticket to whatever this era’s version of a psychiatric hold was, so, instead, I simply said, “Our home was destroyed by the storm.”

He gave me the universal “I don’t believe you,” look, but he didn’t press the issue. In the years since, I have never told Yamaoka Akihira (that’s his name, but he lets us call him Aki) the truth about where I came from, but I’ve also managed, thanks to him, to become a much better liar.

“Alright,” he finally said, as we entered his house. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

“No.” I was grateful to be out of the wind and snow, and not particularly interested in going back outside.

He rubbed his chin – a gesture that I’ve since come to recognize as his only “tell” that he’s calculating out several moves in an extended mental shogi game, before saying, “I suppose it’s a good thing that I hadn’t yet found a new maid.”

[antvnger]

iron mun YEETING into the inbox.

🥇 - I think you’ve done a brilliant job with your muse.

Scott is a GEM, and you are so creative with how he takes up space here in the Tumblr-verse!

🎯 - Your portrayal is on point!

I will never be over how perfectly you encapsulate his energy! And the range you have / give him is phenomenal!

💡 - The plot ideas you give out are amazing.

LOVE the journeys we take these boys on: physical and emotional. The way we're able to bounce off each other is a blast!

🔮 - I can see us rping in the future and I can’t wait to get started as much as we want!

I love how much our creativity explodes together!

💛 - You’re a dear friend to me

MUN BROS FOREVER

📽 - I can see your muse in your portrayal, your writing is so perfect.

Your Scott is canon over MCU Scott to me 😅

🎬 - I wish your canon was actual canon.

Again, Marvel should have hired you to Scott's biography. You know him better than anyone, including the Marvel writers....including Paul Rudd. I SAID WHAT I SAID.

🌟 - I love seeing you on the dash!

Dash, notifs, DMs, everywhere! Never fear popping up all over the place in my world!

🍋 - Life might be giving you lemons at the moment, but just remember you’re my lemonade!

I'm sorry that you've been down recently. But I hope you know you never fail to brighten my day, and I know so people love and appreciate you for all you do here. And, like Scott, your value doesn't just come from what you do or how you show up for people. You are deserving, beautiful, and valuable because you are you and because you are who you are.

🦄 - Your AUs are so much fun and well thought out.

OBSESSED with the bits that I've seen for Blood Brothers and eager to eat up more! I'll be sure to reel to you when I consume more!

🌞 - You are such a bright and lovely person OOC.

There's a reason you're Scott Lang. You have his heart more than anyone I've ever met.

🤣 - You are hilarious!

Always giving me a giggle! IC and OOC!

🤞 - I’m always wishing to spot you online to improve my dash experience.

Scott or Ant Mun posts. Cue me ZOOMING IN ON THE DASH.

did i copy and paste the entire thing directly into the askbox? yes. i like to live on the edge. crossing my fingers this actually sends once i slam that button.

Oh my WORD! This really is a novel! Aaaww Iron Mun!

You floor me! Like I’m just…I…wow!

Aaaawww now I wish I wrote you a novel because you deserve one too!!

Your compliments truly flatter and humble me, my friend. I really can’t get over all of this. 

And look at you being all like “You know him better than anyone, including Marvel writers…including Paul Rudd. I SAID WHAT I SAID.” My dude, I laughed so hard and I blushed so badly I feel like I’ve got fever I swear.

Boy when you go to bat for me, you really go to bat for me. Thank you. Thank you so very much.

I’m so very blessed to know you and your Tony. Scott and I love you both, and you make being on here so much fun!

Math Bros & Mun Bros 4 LIFE!! ❤️🐜//❤️💛

Positivity meme

[emile-hides]

Current top 10 replayed songs

Tagged by @ow-old-men to share the 10 songs I’ve been listening to on repeat and. Yeah I’m basic he called me out half of them are love songs tis the season and all that shut up

Frankie by One11Twenty - It’s the pure baseball theming I’ve been listening to this song on loop sense August I wanna play baseball guys I wanna play baseball

World’s Smallest Violin by AJR - “AJR, Emile are you going through some stuff?” No, someone put the end of this song to a speed up of Mushrooms growing and I’ve been hooked ever sense. Songs that go fast are instant hooks for me.

Flowers by Miley Cyrus - Oh my whiteness is showing look look okay my mom LOVES a powerful breakup song and this one is so incredibly funny if you know the context for it. Get his ass girl.

Twin Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms - “The front bottems, Emile are you going through som-” Yes I replayed Hatoful Boyfriend over the Holidays and caught more emotions for Yuuya Sakazaki than I was prepared to. This is also a Sakuya song, they share it.

Homerun by Shawn Wasabi - Baseball theming again but make it cute and maybe sexual but we ignore that part in this house. This may be my favorite song right now just like. Overall.

Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery - This is a When The Moon Was Ours song and there’s literally nothing else to it. Read When The Moon Was Ours and then listen to this song and explode over it with me please

Truly, Madly, Deeply by Cascada - Would you all still love me after I composed an entire AMV to this song about my self ship with Makarov Dreyar; 80-something year old master of the Fairy Tail guild from hit 2010′s anime Fairy Tail I unfortunately binged for the entire latter half of 2022?

Happily Ever After cover by Kylee Henke - I’ll be honest. I’m obsessed with this cover. Maybe just because I relate it too hard to the blorbo of all time Hero Nightfall Hell’s Library, but it really is a good Him Song man. Also it goes so hard.

Cult Dice (The Cult of Dionysus with every second beat removed) - If I said a good 90% of my music taste actually comes from audio bytes that cross my Tumblr dash would you all believe me? Anyway this cut version slaps so much harder than the actual full song hard truths.

Surface Pressure (brother version) cover by Caleb Hyles - This is another character song this set in stone what Ramattra’s entire deal was for me I heard this and I saw his entire life flash before my eyes and I knew I knew who he was and who he was to be. And then I kissed him on the face.

Are my music tastes all over the place? Yes. Yes they are. Nothing has ever had a single through line in my entire life. I’m also very bad at chain games and not going to tag anyone sorry thanks for the tag tho

[harrygroves]

part two of willing victim steve/lifeguard billy

part one is here

Steve’s topping off a double-scoop of vanilla with chocolate syrup and sprinkles when he catches him in his peripheral vision.

Billy walks right up to the counter, past the line Steve has waiting, ignoring the squawks of hey asshole! being thrown at him.

“Harrington!” He shouts, hands slamming down on the plastic counter-top, glasses pushed down his nose, throwing daggers at Steve. His skin is so sun-kissed that Steve can feel the heat rolling off of him threatening to melt the frozen goods behind the glass.

Steve finishes handing off the cone to the expectant girl over the counter who immediately rushes off, without paying.

“Hey!” Steve shouts at her but Billy’s waving a hand in his face and Steve pulls his eyes over to him. “What?” He asks loudly, aiming for annoyed finality but it doesn’t come out as fiery as he’d like.

Billy rounds the counter, getting all up in Steve’s face, and he reaches out, grabs something around Steve’s neck.

Steve looks down, confused. Apparently he’s wearing a lifeguard uniform, and Billy’s hand is wrapped around a whistle, pulling Steve closer and closer.

“You haven’t been back to the pool.” Billy says and Steve’s eyes find him again. Billy’s wearing a Scoops Uniform, but it’s got Steve’s name tag clipped to it, and Billy smells like marshmallow fluff and strawberry syrup, and he’s getting closer and closer, the pull from Steve’s whistle burning a line around his neck -- 

“Ahh!” Steve shouts, sitting up-right in his bed.

He glances around wildly, half-expecting Billy Hargrove to be standing, shadow-soaked, in the corner of his room.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve heaves out, breath stuttering out of his lungs in a staccato beat.

He doesn’t get back to sleep.

*

Steve’s eyes are sleep-heavy and his head is throbbing. Saturdays are the worst day of the week, as far as he’s concerned.

Some kid is crying and here comes his mother, for the third time, to yell that Steve got the order wrong and do it again.

He hates this woman. More than any person he’s ever met.

Well, perhaps there’s one exception to that.

Steve mumbles to her that he needs to go get more fudge squares for her order and hustles into the back, standing in the freezer for a full minute, eyes closed, as if trying to squeeze in a thirty-second nap.

He grabs the bag of fudge squares and a tub of sprinklers and goes back up front.

When he pushes the door open his eyes immediately see that Billy Hargrove is in line.

Steve stalls when he sees him, the tub of sprinklers slipping from his hand, and the top of the tub comes off, exploding edible, rainbow confetti around him.

Robin swears from the opposite end of the counter, a mother yells at her to watch her language, but Steve is frozen, stock-still and staring, and Billy’s staring back at him, but not in the same way.

Billy’s look is more of a you fucking weirdo vibe whereas Steve is silently saying you’re here and i don't know why that’s making me feel something.

Robin slides in front of Steve’s field of vision and Steve startles. She’s pushing a broom around his feet, snapping at him to get out of the way and Steve stumbles to the side, leaving Billy a clear path to Steve.

But Billy isn’t moving and he isn’t saying anything and the rush in Steve’s ears is finally passing and he realizes someone’s smacking the bell over and over; there’s a line of people and he’s just standing there and fuck, he probably looks like he’s having some sort of episode.

He gets back to the counter and robotically goes through the motions of greeting, serving, and ringing up the customers, every single one a bell toll towards death as Billy gets closer and closer. His hands actually start shaking and he stammers, a string of panic starting to thread it’s way through his body. Robin finishes getting the sprinklers cleaned up but she’s not quick enough and Steve’s left to greet Billy as he saddles up to the counter.

“Ahoy.” Steve says weakly and he makes the mistake of glancing at Billy’s mouth and remembering the pressure and the curve of his lips, slippery sunscreened skin and the intense sensation of drowning -- and that only came after he was pulled from the water.

Billy catches this because Steve did it in a moment of panic and there was no way to hide it and instinctively flicks his tongue out, running it over his bottom lip, and why that makes something inside Steve jolt is a fucking mystery.

“So this is where you ended up.” Billy says, quiet in a way that it almost sounds threatening. He plants a hand on the counter and leans in, glasses tucked into his shirt pulling down the already low lifeguard top. He’s smiling at Steve the way he used to when they were in school together; that belittling poor you expression that makes Steve feel a foot tall, but it’s different now that they’ve -- 

It wasn’t like they actually kissed. A bunch. It was a training exercise.

So why was Steve’s heart thundering in his chest, why did this feel different? It suddenly didn’t look very poor you. It felt more like there you are, i found you, and Steve didn’t feel like he was going to get punched in the face, it felt more like a game had been won...and he was the prize.

Steve actually looks down to make sure he’s still wearing his uniform and the barrage of blue, white and red glares back up at him.

He moves his head back up and glances at Billy, opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say and he just shrugs one shoulder, shaking his head a little, confused. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Billy’s found him, sure, but he’s actually starting to look...troubled. His smarmy, boarding-on-sweet smile has faded and he bites his lip. Like Steve is bothering him.

In a flash, Billy reaches out and grabs at Steve’s name tag and it comes off easily, pulling Steve’s shirt with it for the briefest moment.

Steve doesn’t...what the fuck?

Did Billy just come in here to bust his balls?

Steve can’t talk, can’t formulate any sort of retort because he doesn’t understand what’s happening and Billy doesn’t say anything, he’s just sunburned-red and clenching Steve’s nametag in his hand and then he just whirls around and leaves, stomping out of the store like he’s pissed off.

Robin didn’t see it happen, and the customers didn’t seem to notice because the next person steps up the counter and starts barking orders at him.

He looks down to make sure, and yeah, Billy just took his name tag?

It’s not a big deal, it’s a piece of plastic but something about it feels deeply personal and Steve can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of his shift.

*

The pool closes hours before the mall so Steve is at a complete loss as to what to do about this situation. His manager gives him shit for losing his name tag and he doesn’t know how to say that he didn’t lose it, some asshole took it, because what the fuck would his manager say to that?

So he has to get it back.

But like, Steve doesn’t want to see Billy.

He really doesn’t.

Plus, Steve’s never actually been to Billy’s house and that feels like too much. Too personal.

Steve’s trying to avoid getting personal. It just feels...like more, after…

He sits in his car, elbow on the window-ledge, slides a hand over his mouth, thumb and pointer finger stretching from cheek to cheek and he can feel how hot his face is.

He shakes his hand out, reaching forward to clench the steering wheel.

What is happening to him?

part three

[ficthots]

A Sense of Normalcy

A/N: Another Peter piece here! As always I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Word Count: 2.3k+

It wasn’t hard to assume that being in a relationship with a literal superhero meant that your life was always hectic. Between early morning emergencies, afternoons at work, and late night patrols, you craved any sense of normalcy with your boyfriend. Having a full day off together was few and far between, but when those days presented themselves, you both jumped at the opportunity to spend the day fully in one another's presence.

Peter couldn’t and wouldn’t keep his hands off of you and you didn’t fight him on it, no matter how weird you two looked in public to strangers eyes. You would stroll the aisles of the grocery store practically attached together. Leaning against the shopping carts handle, hands holding the list as you eyed the items Peter had scratched onto it in barely legible writing. You squinted and pointed to it.

“Bug, what does that say?” Peter was standing directly behind you, pushing the cart, his large arms caging you in. “Um, cereal. I’ve been stuffing it into baggies and keeping them in my backpack to have to snack on during patrol,” his cheek was pressed into yours, head resting on your shoulder as you two continued moving through the store. You reached out over his arms, grabbing a can of pasta sauce as you leisurely strolled.

To anyone else it would look like a far too clingy couple, but to you two it was reveling in the time you had together after not seeing one another for more than your thirty minute lunch break every Wednesday.

Peter had shown up to your office one random Wednesday after going almost two weeks without more than a quick kiss in the morning as you raced out the door for work or the mind numbing, knee weakening, heart pounding kiss he always gave you before patrol. You were in the middle of giving a tour of the historic building when you noticed an insanely attractive man join the back of the group. He shot you a quick wink and a small smile as you continued, trying not to get distracted.

As the tour finished up you practically skipped to Peter, wrapping your arms around his neck, lips meeting yours as you giggled. You were completely elated to see him there instead of the normal blur of red and blue as he dashed around the apartment grabbing his items he would need for the night or the sleepy figure that could hardly register when you would leave in the morning.

“Bug, what’re you doing here?” He pecked your nose, heart flipping in his chest at the pure joy seeping from you. “Well, I brought lunch for us to enjoy if you can sneak away for a few minutes,” his eyes scanned the crowded building, his brow furrowing in a moment of worry that you wouldn’t have time. “But if you’re too busy it’s okay. I’ve just missed you so much and I wanted to spend some time with my best girl.”

His heart felt like it would explode at any minute watching your eyes widen in surprise before you pulled him in for another kiss. “Of course I can have lunch with you. Let me go get my bag, I’ll be right back, okay?” He almost didn’t want to let you go as he watched you speed walk to your office, quickly calling over your shoulder to your boss that you were taking your lunch break.

You hurried back to Peter’s side, immediately lacing your fingers together, your other hand grabbing his bicep and wrapping around his arm as you two walked out. “I’m so happy you stopped by, babe,” you didn’t care how giddy you seemed. Peter took time to pack a lunch for you two and surprise you at work and it had sent you over the moon.

His eyes watched you, seeing how you clung to his side, your excitement clear on your face as you told him about your day. You took a deep breath at the end and looked up at your favorite person in the world. “I’m sorry, I was rambling. I’m just shocked you did this for me. I’ve missed you so much lately and I’m just happy we can spend some time together,” you were gnawing at your bottom lip as you finished.

Peter’s large hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you towards him. When your lips met, your hands fell on his stomach, gently balling into fists with his t-shirt, leaning fully into him. As he deepened the kiss a small moan fell from your lips, realizing how touch starved you’d been recently.

When he pulled away, he didn’t remove his hands, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you so much. I am so sorry we’ve been apart like this for the last few weeks,” you shrugged, kissing his pouty lips gently as you sat on the park bench you had walked to.

“It’s not your fault, Petey. We’ve both been super busy. I’m just happy to spend any time I can with you,” you sighed happily as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling your head towards him, his lips landing on your temple, placing a chaste kiss there. “Alright, I’m starving. What’s for lunch?” His eyes lit up at your question, going to remove two brown sacks from his backpack. “Only the best for my love,” your smile grew as you opened the top and saw a pudding cup sitting there, knowing he packed your favorites.

Peter had felt so guilty about your pure shock and joy about a stupid lunch, he made it his mission to meet you at work for lunch every Wednesday after that. They quickly became your favorite day of the week, waking up and knowing you would have a small sliver of time with Pete.

On a summer Saturday evening, you sat almost naked on the sofa. You felt like you were baking in the 98 degree day, not being able to run the air conditioning, knowing your bill would triple if you even thought about it. Instead you sat in a pair of panties and one of Peter’s oversized t-shirts. All the windows were open, a soft breeze pushing the curtains from the wall every so often. You had a wet towel on the back of your neck that needed to be dipped in cold water again, but the thought of moving an inch made you sweat even more.

You hadn’t moved in an hour when the tv shut off. A groan fell from your lips, searching the couch for the remote. When you finally found it and tried turning it on, nothing happened. Your own reflection stared back at you as you waited for it to turn on, praying it just needed new batteries and that the tv itself hadn’t died. You went towards the kitchen to grab a new set of batteries when you realized the fridge wasn’t giving the constant hum it did when it was running.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, going to grab your phone and call Peter to ask if there was a power outage. When he didn’t answer after the first try you sighed, taking to Twitter instead and seeing that it was the number one trending topic. Massive power outage sweeps New York City on hottest day of the year. Peter was probably going to be out all night helping with emergencies that were sure to come up with a power outage in the middle of summer.

The sun was dipping low in the sky and you knew you needed some form of light. You gathered all the candles you could find, placing them all around the apartment and lit them as you went. A soft glow filled the small space and you groaned, sweat dripping down your neck as you plopped back down onto the couch.

Grabbing the book you had started earlier in the week, you took to reading by candlelight. You hadn’t been reading for too long when the familiar thump on your fire escape sounded through the room, signaling the arrival of your favorite superhero.

You checked your phone showing it was still early in the night and he climbed into the window, removing his mask as he did. “Careful! I have a candle there,” you pointed to the pillar candle by the window that he had almost knocked over and his smile grew with what you knew was relief.

“Hi baby,” he crossed the small space between you two, kissing you as he removed his gloves. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. My phone overheated and died while I was out. Are you okay? How long has the power been out here?” He moved away from you, going to change as he continued asking you questions.

You laughed as he tripped while trying to get a leg out of his suit. “I’m fine, just slowly melting is all. I was watching TV and it went out about an hour ago. I thought it died,” you giggled as he walked back into the room. He had changed into a loose shirt, shorts that hit his mid-thighs that were as pasty as ever, and his hair stuck out in a million different directions.

“Thank god it didn’t,” he sat on the couch, a loud sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes, throwing his head back as it hit the cushions. He took your feet into his lap and peeked an eye open at you. You gently poked him with your toe and set your book on your lap. “Why’re you here so early? Isn’t New York in dire need of superhero help right now?”

He chuckled, hand running up your leg. “Unfortunately, there is absolutely nothing I can do to help with this until they get the power back on. I just wanted to be home so bad tonight and I was worried about you in the dark all night,” your heart flipped as you listened to him talk, watching the veins in his neck move as he continued.

“Have you been reading?” You nodded, showing him the book as he reached out his hand to see what you were entertaining yourself with while he was gone. “Is this another dirty book?” his nose scrunched at the question, reading the summary on the back. Your laugh echoed in the quiet room, snatching the book back from him. “For your information I do not read dirty books,” his eyebrows shot up at that, leaning towards you.

“I strongly disagree with that! I read over your shoulder one time and saw a mention of a certain throbbing member and I haven’t been the same since,” your face burned at his teasing and you shoved him back. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” you mumbled as your eyes went back to the page you had left off on, biting back a smile.

The sun had fully set after a while, leaving you two in only the light that the candles gave in your space. You gave up on trying to read as it was far too dark to continue. Peter had been almost completely silent since he had gotten home. He had his feet up on the ottoman in front of him, your legs in his lap that his hands absentmindedly rubbed as he had his head back, eyes closed and gently dozing off every now and then.

He heard you set the book down with a sigh and he peered over at you, a soft smile coming over him. “I missed you, bug,” you smiled at his words, moving to climb into his lap as he accepted you with open arms. It had cooled down just a bit, the breeze picking up more, having the curtains push even further from the walls, moving around the open space.

You sat on his lap, a leg landing on either side of him. Peter hadn’t changed his position at all, hands settling on your thighs, stroking the bare skin. He had a lazy smirk as he stared up at you, thoughts racing with how lucky he was and how in love he was with you. Pete started humming horribly off key, but you recognized the melody right away.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, humming back. His smile grew, eyes getting wide as an idea formed in his head. He kissed your nose and gently moved you off of him as he got up and went to your room. “Hold on one second, baby,” you laid there waiting for him to return and when he did, you couldn’t hold in the laugh at the sight before you.

Peter came out with a bluetooth speaker in one hand, his phone in the other, your song playing loudly through the small device. He was belting the lyrics to ‘This Magic Moment’ as he set the two items on the counter, moving to you and taking your hand in his, pulling you off the couch.

Your arms crossed behind his neck, his pulling you as close to him as possible, arms wrapping tightly around your waist and lifting you onto his feet as he swayed you both to the melody filling the apartment. His forehead rested on yours, you both savoring the moment, your eyes taking in his features half-lit by the candlelight.

The breeze gently filtered through the apartment, you could only see what the candles illuminated, and you loved the sight in front of you. His eyes were like a deep honey that bored into yours, a smirk gracing his lips as he gently kissed you. Your hands tangled in his locks, his hands splayed across your back, as you took advantage and deepened the kiss.

As the song came to an end and another started playing, Peter made no move to stop, continuing to move you two to the music. Your hands twirled his hair around your fingers, as Peter tilted his head and kissed your cheek. “I’m gonna marry you, you know that?” You bit your lip and nodded, letting him kiss you again.

You didn’t know when it would happen, but until then you savored the little moments you got with him. A life that you wouldn’t trade for the world as long as Peter was by your side.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Not Enough

has anyone else just wanted Danny to go completely fucking feral at Dash? anyone?

yeah me too

this is some truly self-indulgent shit y'all

"Hey Fenton!"

Danny slammed his locker shut, sighing as Dash clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

"I'm throwin' a huge ass Halloween party this weekend, ghosts are all about Halloween right? You should totally come!"

It wasn't the first party Danny had been invited to since being outed as Phantom, but somehow Dash didn't seem to get the hint that he wasn't even remotely interested.

"No." Danny snapped, he threw his bag over his shoulder and turned his back on Dash, walking away without another word.

"What's your problem?"

Danny stopped, turning back around with a face of utter disdain.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been trying to be nice, but all you do is just brush me off! Like you can't even pretend to be busy or something?"

Danny stared, mouth halfway open as he tried to find the words to respond.

"Are you actually serious?" he finally choked out, almost too bewildered to be angry.

Almost.

"You're not still mad about all that stuff from before right?" Dash asked. "Like, I don't even do that shit anymore, it's over."

"Is it?" Danny's eyes flashed brightly and Dash took a half step back as the air went cold. "Because I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday that I pulled Mikey out of his locker."

"Well, yeah but that was Mikey." Dash laughed. "C'mon man, I wouldn't do that to you. We're totally cool now, so why you gotta keep blowing me off? You talk to Kwan like it's not big deal, and he used to wail on you all the time!"

Danny took a deep, slow breath, then another.

"Have you considered that maybe it's because I don't like you?" Danny said through gritted teeth.

Dash huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground.

"Look, I get it, I was a jerk, but it's over! I'm actually trying to be nice, now you're the one being an asshole."

Danny looked as though he'd been slapped.

"You're such a fucking idiot Dash." Said Danny, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. "You can't just treat someone like shit every single day for two years and then expect them to get over it because you invited them to a few parties."

"Then how come Kwan gets to hang out with you?" Dash could feel his face heating up. "You're just gonna let him off the hook? That's not fair!"

"HE APOLOGISED!"

In one thunderous moment, every locker in the hallway slammed open, sending papers and books flying across the floor. The few students still packing up their things got the fuck out of dodge, whether this was a ghost thing or a Fenton thing (was there even a difference at this point?) they wanted no part of it.

Dash couldn't move, his feet felt heavy, he wasn't entirely sure if Danny had done something to him with his ghost powers, or if he was just afraid.

Because he was certainly afraid.

Even after everyone found out, Danny still didn't use his powers at school unless it was a ghost emergency. He didn't use them for pranks, didn't use them to get even, didn't even use them to show off.

But he was sure as hell using them now, and Dash suddenly realised why he was always holding himself back.

He was terrifying.

Danny took a few steps forward, stopping barely an arm's length away from where Dash was rooted to the spot, trembling.

"Kwan apologised to me." He said, quietly this time. "He apologised to my friends, he even apologised to some other kids, and when I told him that I wasn't ready to forgive him, he accepted that and left me alone until I was ready to talk to him again."

Dash wanted to speak, but he couldn't seem to make his brain form the words he needed, it was too busy buzzing with danger run danger get out run run RUN.

"You made every single day of my life miserable for two whole fucking years, and that isn't even counting the bullshit you pulled in middle school. How do you feel right now Dash? Does it scare you to be around me? Does it scare you to be at the mercy of someone that you know damn well can hurt you?" Danny leant in, grabbing a fistful of letterman jacket. "I hope it does, because now maybe you'll have an idea what it was like for me going to school every fucking day knowing that you would be there, ready and waiting to hurt me. Every single FUCKING day."

Dash found himself being thrown backwards, his feet finally able to move again as he caught himself.

"I'm s-sor-sorry." he mumbled, his lips felt numb and tingly and his head swam with panic as he struggled to get the words out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Danny's voice cracked, his face wasn't twisted in rage anymore, his eyes were blue once again, and shining with tears. "Are you really sorry for hurting me? Or are you just sorry that the guy you were beating the shit out of turned out to be Phantom?"

"I didn't... I didn't know." Dash gasped out, he could barely hear his own words, all he could hear was his own heart beating loudly in his ears as he struggled to draw in breath. "I didn't know it was like that, I just thought-"

Thought what? What had he thought? That he wasn't really hurting anyone? That it wasn't that big a deal?

No, he hadn't thought that, because he hadn't thought at all.

"And you're gonna stand here and tell me I'm an asshole." Danny was almost sobbing as he raggedly spat out each word. "Because I won't forgive you for something you never even apologised for. This is the first time you even acknowledged that you were an absolute jerk to me, and you followed it up by demanding that I just get over it."

Dash stared down at the floor, it sounded terrible when Danny put it like that.

"I wasn't... demanding anything." he said, he was embarrassed by how whiny he sounded. "I was just trying to make it up to you, I was trying, I just thought... it's not fair that I can't have second chance. I was trying so hard and all I wanted was a second chance-"

"I DON'T CARE." Danny's eyes were screwed up tight, but it didn't stop the tears of fury from pouring down his cheeks, his voice so shredded with pain it was barely recognisable. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT. I DON'T OWE YOU A SECOND CHANCE. I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING. YOU FUCKED ME UP AND YOU. CAN'T. FIX IT."

Dash didn't know what to do. Danny was openly sobbing, his breaths came out in grunts as he couldn't hold the rage and misery back.

He was still standing within arm's reach, Dash cautiously put out a hand, to comfort him? He wasn't sure, but he barely brushed Danny's shoulder before Dash found himself spinning violently and his cheekbone exploded with sudden pain as he hit the floor. Cold hands drew away from him roughly.

"DON'T TOUCH ME." Danny screamed. "DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

Dash watched as Danny grabbed his backpack and his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

It was over, just like that it was over.

Dash sat up and touched his face, he wasn't bleeding but he knew it would bruise pretty bad. It hurt, he would be squinting through one eye for a few days.

Danny could have done this to him at any time, he could have done it to him every day if he wanted, and maybe he would, now that he'd done it once.

The thought made Dash feel cold as dread pooled in his stomach.

The next day Dash told people he'd gotten his black eye from playing football, his team knew it wasn't true, but they didn't ask. He kept his eye out for Danny, wondering if he would pop up invisibly and knock him off his feet, or drag him through the floor, or hit him when nobody was looking.

He clung to Kwan's side all day, afraid to be alone.

Phantom could be anywhere, he could get him anywhere, if he wanted to hurt Dash nobody would be able to stop him.

Nobody had been able to stop Dash, and he didn't even have superpowers.

But in the end, nothing happened.

Dash went through the day untouched. Danny didn't even look his way. Not once. He just acted like yesterday never happened.

But it did happen, Dash still had the bruise on his cheek, and the terror set deep in his bones.

In the following days, weeks, months, Danny still never touched him, never looked at him, never talked to him. Dash realised that Danny probably wasn't going to do anything else after all, that maybe he hadn't even meant to hurt him in the first place.

He was a hero after all, he protected people, even people he didn't like. The only time he had ever come into contact with Dash again was to haul him out of the way of a ghost, and he did so with the same care as he would with anyone else.

Danny wasn't like him, he didn't gloat about hurting him, he didn't revel in the fact that Dash was scared of him. He just went about his day, acting for all the world like Dash didn't even exist.

Dash never gave him a true apology, it was clear Danny didn't want one, it was far too late for that.

It left Dash with a sick feeling of unfulfillment. He understood now what Danny had been going through, the pain, the terror, he wanted Danny to know that he was truly sorry, that he really had changed this time.

But he couldn't, because forcing an unwanted apology on him would just make Dash the asshole all over again, he was trying to steal a forgiveness that he could never have.

So he had to find his closure somewhere else.

He stopped picking on Mikey, and Nathan, and all of the other nerds he frequently hassled. He even tried apologising to them, some forgave him, others didn't, and he had to be okay with that. He struggled not to lash out, it still felt unfair, the world had always told him that you were supposed to forgive people when they apologised. It always happened that way on tv, in the cartoons he grew up watching. The mean kid would apologise, the other kids would forgive him, and they would all become friends.

He was realising that the real world was a whole lot more complicated than that, he didn't earn forgiveness just because apologising was hard, he was learning fast that he didn't earn any brownie points for taking responsibility for his actions. He was just doing what any decent person should.

It took him a while to come to terms with that, to stop being angry at people for not letting him make it up to them. For not letting him prove that he had changed.

All it took was to occasionally pass by Danny in the hallways for him to cool his jets and think more clearly. To remind him that he was the bad guy, he was the one who hurt people, that his victims did not owe him anything.

In his last year of school, he had found himself watching the juniors below him falling into the same behaviours, the same struggle for power and control. Pushing other kids around without so much as sparing a thought to how it made them feel.

After a lengthy chat with Mr Lancer, Dash was given permission to pull out younger students from detention one day a week. He would talk to them, ask about their lives, ask about their feelings. He would ask why they lashed out, why they thought it was okay to treat people that way. Most of them didn't have an answer, or simply refused to give one, but he would push, he wouldn't let them hide in ignorance like he did.

Some of them did feel guilt for the way they treated people, and they only needed someone they could talk to who could understand what they were going through, so they wouldn't take it out on whoever was around at the time.

Others would take more effort, they need a far stronger push in the right direction, they were defensive and combative, selfish and unapologetic.

Dash had been one of those kids, he knew they would be hard work, but he did his best. He couldn't help all of them, some were simply unwilling to change.

So he contacted the school-board, he pushed for better protection for students, more programs to help troubled kids, he volunteered to keep running his own counselling groups even after he graduated.

It still never felt like enough.

After graduation he turned down his favoured college to attend one closer to home so he could continue his volunteer work. He joined petitions and rallies for change across entire school districts, he spoke at other schools' anti-bullying campaigns. He'd attended enough of them in his own childhood that he knew they did next to nothing, but it gave him the opportunity to reach out to kids for one on one support.

He found more volunteers for his counselling groups, he helped people start them up in other local schools. It was a lot of work, especially when he was also juggling his college studies. He was taking a major in psychology, it was brutal, Dash had never been good at studying, but he'd decided that this was what he needed to do, this was important to him.

It still wasn't enough.

It would come at him in the night, as soon as he laid his head down on his pillow. He would see the faces of all the kids he hurt, it felt so much worse the older he got, they just looked younger and younger every time the memories came back to plague him.

He had beat the shit out of children. Kids who were the same age as the students he now counselled. He beat them until they were bloody or bruised, he shoved them into lockers, pulled pranks that humiliated them in front of the whole school, and he had laughed.

He'd laughed at their pain.

When the guilt weighed him down, he would begin searching for new programs to volunteer for, new petitions or rallies to get behind, always finding another way to help protect kids like Danny from kids like him.

And to protect kids like him from doing things that would one day haunt them.

He had spread himself thin across every school in the district, barely keeping afloat at college, but it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

Kids still slipped through the cracks, schools were still too lenient, there were too many kids, not enough volunteers.

Casper High was holding another anti-bullying assembly. It had been a few years since Dash had attended one at his old school. This year they had excitedly announced that they'd even secured an appearance from Phantom himself.

Dash's blood ran cold, his hands shook as he went over his notes, he was slated to do his speech alongside Phantom's, they would be sharing the stage for a solid 75 minutes, barely a few feet from one another.

When Danny showed up he was already in Phantom form, Dash spotted him discussing emergency exit plans with one of the organisers in the event of a ghost attack.

He was so different from when they were in school.

He was tall, and broad, he stood with confidence and had a good natured charm to him. He was a hero, he was strong, he was brave. He could fight monsters ten times his size with a smirk and a witty one liner. He could take on anything, he wasn't afraid of anything.

He was a kid, running down a hallway, screaming words that still pierced through Dash's mind every time he saw the hero's face.

"DON'T TOUCH ME."

Dash's hands clenched around his notes, shaking so violently that they barely even looked like words.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

"Dash?"

A deep voice cut through the chaos in Dash's mind as cold hands closed over his tremblings ones.

"It's good to see you again."

Phantom was smiling at him, his hands still closed around Dash's.

"Good... good to see you too." Dash mumbled, not able to meet the man's eyes.

Phantom paused before releasing Dash's hands.

"I've heard all about your work." Phantom grinned as Dash finally looked up and met his eyes.

"Yeah." he said, and then before his mind could catch up with his mouth, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, for everything."

Phantom's eyebrows rose for a moment, before he gave a gentle smile and clapped a hand on Dash's shoulder.

"I know." he said warmly. "Thank you."

They gave their speeches, Dash had told his story many times before, the victim that he'd pushed to breaking point, the boy whose words drove the change that made him the man he had become.

For the first time ever, that boy was listening.

After the assembly had packed up and the volunteers were heading home, it was Danny Fenton who approached Dash and asked if he wanted to go grab a beer together.

Dash thought it would be rather awkward, but Danny had plenty of experience socialising with the public, awkwardness slid right off him, and soon enough Dash found himself laughing alongside Danny as he told a story about the new misadventures of the Box Ghost.

He returned to his dorm that night, head still swimming from one too many beers, and he had the best sleep of his life.

He pulled back on some of his volunteer work, hunting for new people to take his place as he focused on college. He was falling far behind, but he would work hard to make his way back. As a volunteer he could only do so much, but with the right education and training, he could do so much more.

The guilt still haunted him, every so often when the pressure and the stress weighed heavy, it would creep back into his mind. It would probably never go away, not entirely, but at least now he had his closure.

Finally, it was enough.

[rebelwrites]

Trouble Is Your Middle Name

Dominic Toretto x Sister Reader

A/N this is my fic for Fanfic Friday

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Dominic Toretto Masterlist

This Months Writing

There were two rules you had, two rules your half brother gave you when he promised to take you in when you had nowhere else to go.

Rule One you kept up with your studying, just because you had the surname Toretto didn’t mean you could slack off, he wanted the best for you and not to end up like him or the rest of the family.

Rule two was you would keep out of trouble. Stay off the police radar and keep your head clean.

The first rule was easy and you were keeping your grades up and would be ready to sit the Bar soon enough, becoming the first lawyer within the family. But the second rule was hard, you grew up around cars and the fast life so it was in your blood.

It had been a long and exhausting week of studying and you needed a break, before you exploded. So as you climbed into the driver's seat of your Hellcat you went into auto pilot, cruising through the streets until you found an empty parking lot. You needed to let some steam off, it was late so you were less likely to get caught, or that’s what you thought. Little did you know you had a cop following you ever since you left the campus library.

A few burnouts and donuts never hurt anyone.

There was something about throwing the car about that made you feel free, the smell of burning rubber was one of the best smells and you found it relaxing. There was no doubt that you were a Toretto, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have the same mother as Dom and Mia, all that mattered was the Toretto blood than ran threw your veins.

You were in your own little world as you tore up the car park, leaving tyre marks as you went, to even notice the cop had put his lights on. It was only when you heard the blip of his siren you knew you were fucked. And you had broken rule number two.

“Fuck,” you mumbled bringing the car to a stop, killing the engine before slowly climbing out of the car.

“Should have known it would have been a Toretto,” the cop scoffed, instantly getting your back up.

“Talk about pre-judgement,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that Toretto?” The cop spat.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Look can I just go and we pretend this never happened?”

“I’ve been watching you all night, ever since you left campus, so far I can do you for speeding, reckless driving, criminal damage, and I’m sure if I looked probably illegal modifications,” he said, puffing his chest out.

“Look, do what you gotta do, I need to know what’s happening with the car so I can arrange a lift,” you said calmly, when inside you were panicking. You knew Dom was going to flip.

“I’m tempted to seize the car,” he laughed.

“Do it,” you shrugged, pulling your phone out, looking for Dom’s name, hitting call.

Within three rings he answered.

“You do realise the time right?” He laughed.

“Yeah I do but I need you, look don’t flip out but I went to let off some steam in an empty parking lot,” you sighed, “turns out a cop followed me from the campus and is tryna do me for so many things. And is now threatening to seize the hellcat.”

“Fuck sake, Y/N. What did I say?” Dom shouted.

“I know I broke rule two and I’m sorry okay.” You mumbled. “Just please come down, I don’t like the look of this cop, he is giving me the creeps.”

“Say no more kiddo, I’m on my way, ping me your location.” Dom said softly, he knew you didn’t get scared or creeped out often so he trusted your feelings. “I will bring the busta as well. Don’t worry.”

It didn’t take long before you heard the sound of Dom and Brian speeding down the street, pulling into the parking lot, parking with your car.

Dom jumped out the car, instantly pulling you into his arms. It didn’t matter that you were half siblings, neither of you saw each other as that. You were blood and he was going to do anything he could to keep you safe.

“Has he touched you?” He asked.

“No, thank god,” you whispered looking up at him. “I’m sorry, I should have come straight home.”

“It’s fine kiddo, I know you are stressed.” Dom smiled softly, kissing the top of your head, before letting you go.

“Oh so I see you called your half brother,” the cop laughed, “thought you were meant to be a Toretto?”

“You wanna shut your fucking mouth officer,” Dom snapped, pushing you behind him. “I mean is it that slow of a night that you have to follow a young woman and keep her blocked in a parking lot at eleven pm?”

“She was breaking the law,” the officer shrugged, “and just one look at her car tells me that it’s been illegally modified,”

“Well I’ve just had a walk around your car and I can find at least three different violations,” Brian said calmly. “For starters your tyres are bald, you have a brake light out, and the window wiper is broken, that is just from walking around the car.”

“What would your chief say if we reported you?” Dom said, “told him all the issues with your car and how you made a young woman feel uncomfortable. I’m not quite sure that would go down well.”

“Dom my dash cam is still recording,” you whispered.

“And we have proof,” Dom laughed, stepping closer to the cop. “So here is what’s gonna happen, you are going to climb back into your squad car and drive off, pretending that this never happened, that my little sister was never here.”

“But she obviously was here,” the cop laughed.

“I mean it’s our word against yours, these tyre marks could have been from anyone,” Brian shrugged, “and plus Y/N has been with me working on my car.”

“Fine,” the cop huffed, “but if I catch you driving so much one mile an hour over the speed limit I will be coming for you.”

“And then I will just come after you and send this little video to your chief.” Dom hissed. “Now get the fuck out of here and go you know, be a police officer.”

The three of you stood there, watching as he pulled out of the parking lot, driving off into the distance.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hugging Dom. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

“You are kidding right?” Dom laughed, “Trouble is your middle name”

“So you aren’t mad?” You asked looking up at him.

“What is there to be mad about? You were never here remember,” Dom laughed, “Now come on let’s get you home.”

@chibsytelford @phoenixhalliwell @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @withmyteeth “jessprins13 @rightwhereiwantyou @jasonbabymama @pumpkin-spice-hate @garbinge @zozebo

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[women-loving-art]

Alice Pike Barney Natalie at Seven, 1883 / Natalie and Missa, 1890 / Natalie Barney in Fur Cape, 1896 / Natalie with Necklace, c. 1900 / Lucifer, 1902

Some of the paintings that Alice Pike Barney (1857-1931) made using her daughter, Natalie Clifford Barney (1876-1972), as a model. 

“As the year [1900] closed, the fallout from Quelques portraits-sonnets de femmes [Natalie Clifford Barney’s lesbian poetry collection] caused a major break in the Barney family. It had taken months for word of the book to develop a strong buzz, but by now many people had read or at least heard about it. 

Natalie had been dropped by a few Washington society matrons, meaning that they refused to receive her in their homes. At least one family friend approached Natalie that summer, begging her to give up, for the sake of her parents, the course on which she was headed.

In response to her critics, Natalie claimed that she didn’t care whether or not Madame so-and-so deigned to greet her on the street. As she once said of Colette’s first husband, Willy, “Not everyone is capable of knowingly creating a bad reputation for themselves.”

There was a certain hypocrisy to the way Natalie was treated. [...] Discretion (or, if you prefer, sexual hypocrisy) was considered a duty. Among Natalie’s past and future conquests were socialites who, though they preferred the embraces of women, led ostensibly “normal” lives. As long as they married, had children, did charitable work, and managed fine homes, nobody much cared what they did behind closet doors. In the end, Natalie’s greatest sin was not that she was a lesbian, but that she refused to be quiet and ashamed about it. 

One day, Albert Barney [her father] picked up the society gossip journal Town Topics and read a small but fatal headline: Sappho sings in Washington. With that single headline, his world exploded. Highly intelligent and far from naive, his suspicions about his beloved daughter had long ago turned to certainty.

The Town Topics piece, entwining his daughter’s name with that of a perverted Greek harlot, fulfilled his worst nightmares of scandal. The fact that his wife had contributed the artwork to Natalie’s book [three of the four women who modelled for her were her daughter's lovers] constituted a double knife thrust to the heart. How, he wondered, would he ever live this down? 

The timing and exact circumstances of what happened next are impossible to pinpoint. The entire episode wasn’t one that anyone in the family wished to  remember, let alone document. It’s telling that Alice, who scissored from the newspapers each mention of her girls for permanent inclusion in her scrapbook, didn’t bother to keep the big Sappho Sings article.

What is true is this: Albert stormed into the editorial offices at Ollendorff in Paris to buy, and then destroy, the remaining copies and all printing plates for Quelques portraits-sonnets de femmes. His action doubtless accounts for the book’s extreme rarity today. 

He then brutally pulled the blinders from Alice’s eyes about the meaning of the poems in Quelques sonnets. He berated her ceaselessly, and would until his death, for having so naively contributed paintings of Natalie’s lovers to the book. 

The revelation about Natalie’s sexuality stunned Alice. The evidence had been there for years, obvious to all, but she had been in complete denial. Now, forced to accept the truth, she was shocked and sickened. For perhaps the first time ever she was unable to apply the laissez-faire philosophy that had defined her approach to life. 

In early January 1901 the Barneys boarded a ship to New York, leaving Natalie behind. Though weakened by illness, he constantly lambasted Alice, enumerating her countless sins, the greatest of which was the evil inherent in Natalie’s character. As usual, she endured the abuse by politely ignoring him. Deep within, however, she was awash in conflicting emotions. She loved and admired her daughter, but was horrified by her lesbianism. Late in January, she made her feelings clear in a letter that must have devastated Natalie:

It has come at last. Your father is quite crushed by this and really very pathetic. How perhaps you, through your disregard for us and your callousness, may remember my disgust when you would speak of this forbidden sin—and realize that every right-minded decent person is condemning you and us—as they would of the greatest evil... I am too sick and ill to write more. I used to feel sorry for Mrs. Hoy when people said things of Mattie—and how small her sin was—if true—compared with yours, which you broadcast about, as if being evil is not bad enough.

But you must in every way, to every person, make yourself a horror and a danger... Your only chance to redeem yourself is to change your life and writings and remember that in no way can you defend yourself—or reply to this [Town Topics] article... For there is not the slightest loophole. You have closed every escape. [...] You have done a bad thing—a sin against law and mankind and I can only hope that your ideas have shocked and horrified instead of converting.

It took months for Alice to accept Natalie’s nature, but eventually the truth brought mother and daughter closer. No longer engaged in subterfuge and lies, Natalie’s new relationship with Alice was easier, friendlier, and more honest. After her initial repugnance, Alice tried to see Natalie’s sexuality as simply part of her nature—a nature similar in many other ways to her own. “How much of myself I’ve passed on to you,” she wrote years later. “You’re cultivated and I—not—but we’ve got the same traits, grabbing here and there, dashing from this to that. So much of the monkey in us.”

There would be many times in the future when Natalie and Alice didn’t get along, but at its heart their relationship remained strong and loving. Each took pleasure in the other’s accomplishments. “I’m terribly proud of you,” Alice would write; or “I can’t express my admiration, my child.” They would collaborate in writing plays, visit each other, and always, no matter where they might be, there were the affectionate letters. 

Only once, many years later, did Alice reveal the pain that Natalie caused her. It happened when Natalie made a casual observation. “Mother,” she remembered saying. “You have so happy a temperament that I cannot imagine anything that has ever been able to cause you more than a passing sorrow.”

Alice drew back as if struck. She appeared embarrassed, and looked away. Natalie laughed, curious to know what could possibly have shaken her mother’s legendary equanimity, but Alice remained stubbornly and uncharacteristically silent. 

Growing uneasy, Natalie pressed for an answer. Alice hesitated, gazing back over the years to a moment of sorrow so great that it obviously pained her to recall it now. And then, slowly, she faced her daughter, staring with profound sadness into those ice-blue eyes. “You,” she muttered, almost as if speaking to herself. “You...’”

— Suzanne Rodríguez, from Wild Heart: A Life, Natalie Clifford Barney and the Decadence of Literary Paris 

[imaginegladions]

One More Time, Like You Mean It

Xiao, Genshin Impact

A/N: Hehe, you guys haven’t heard from me in a while but surprise I am alive! And absolutely being devoured by work. I’ve been able to play a bit of Genshin in between to tide me over until I can play more Pokemon Games. But, I gotta say it’s pretty refreshing to write older characters. I hope you guys will forgive me for my fluctuating interests, have this... little gift from me. Not Gladion but he’s pretty damn similar.

The moment Xiao set foot on the bridge he heard them. The voices grew louder, screaming for salvation, for him to purge the evil. It was always loudest during the Lantern Rite but he had hoped with how well he had been doing recently he could risk it for a moment. Clearly, the years have made him complacent. He motioned to try and grab hold of his spear but instead found a hand tugging at his own. He followed the hand with his eyes until he caught sight of a shoulder and then deep blue eyes were staring into his own. 

Right, he thought. 

[You] invited him. 

The person in question squeezed his hand once and started gently pulling him towards the myriad of stalls that had been set up. Some kids called [you] over from the corner, engaged in a game involving little multi-colored towers. [You] waved to them and posed for the shop owner next to them in time for the audible click of his camera. 

“Doing alright?” [You] asked. And the Xiao one year prior would have sneered at that, not wanting [your] pity. But [you] only asked out of care for him and he’s come to appreciate [you] for that, for the charm that caused the lantern maker and grilled ticker fish seller to offer [you] freebies. For the charm that convinced the Vigilant Yaksha himself to cease his vigil if only for one night. 

Xiao kept quiet as he took in all the festivities, not overwhelmed but also not quite comfortable with his surroundings. 

Thankfully, [you] seemed to notice and quickened [your] pace until [you] reached a dock tucked away in the dark corners of the harbor with a single boat attached to it. Beside it sat a crate of fishing gear. 

“My fishing boat.” [You] confessed, gesturing for him to sit across [you]. Inside the boat were a couple of cushions, a blanket, and a basket of assorted snacks. 

Xiao scoffed. “You drag me to the city only to get away from it?” He raised a brow at [you] but got in anyway, unmoved even as [you] began to use [your] control over the water to gently push [you] out to sea, past several larger ships whose crewmen waved at [you]. 

“There’s that charm again.” Xiao thought, the notion clearing his mind of dark thoughts just enough for him to admire the way the Mingxiao Lantern loomed in front of [you]. 

[You] stopped the boat, leaning forward. And before Xiao could protest, [you] grabbed his hand again. He stared down at the offending appendages aghast. He doesn’t think he’s ever allowed anyone this close to him in the hundreds of years he’d been alive. The last he’d remembered were Bosacius’ shaking hands, Skybracer’s bloodstained shoulders, and all the friends he’d held as the light left their eyes.

“Xiao.”

[Your] palms, small and warm in his own, squeezed once. It was as Xiao lifted his head to meet [your] gaze that he realized [you] had been trying to get his attention. “What?” He hissed quietly.

But [you] only laughed breathlessly, nodding towards the direction of the harbor.

The entire city was dark, not a single person making even a whisper of a thought. Xiao was almost horrified at the sight. Was it possible that in the mere seconds he’d been caught up in his past, he’d been unable to protect the people of Liyue? Were they perhaps decimated in the blink of an eye?

The Skybracer made of bamboo and plauserite came to life, the fire within burning and revealing swirling patterns of gold against dashing blue. Behind it, fabric in luminescent azure and stark white fluttered in the evening breeze mimicking Skybracer’s full tail. And as if the spectacle hadn't surprised Xiao enough, the lantern began to move. Enchanted, he thought, as one by one the lantern’s limbs and neck began to shift and twist, the great deer shooting across the sky in wide arcs and in its wake the glow of thousands of lanterns carved out a path in the sky.

Xiao watched it happen with a wonder he thought he wasn’t capable of feeling anymore, only faintly aware of himself through his hands still linked with [yours]. It was so incredible, he’d almost giddily pulled [you] into his arms at the warm feeling rushing through him. The moment he hesitated, [you] had no qualms pulling Xiao in [yourself]. 

And as the glow of lanterns reflected in [your] eyes, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to kiss [you]. 

Xiao held dominion over the wind, but never before had it been knocked so boldly out of him. He could scarcely believe it was caused by the mere realisation of his own feelings. [You] sat there, fireworks exploding in the sky as [you] stared at each other. For once, Xiao’s mind was clear of just about everything except the sound of [your] breaths, the curve of [your] lips, and [your] voice as [you] said his name.

Wait, his name?

“Beg your pardon?” 

[Your] nose scrunched up in amusement and wow, Xiao doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as adorable. And Xiao has a soft spot for little ones, not that he’d ever admit it. “Right here, right now. Don’t you feel like you’re part of this?” [You] asked, cupping Xiao’s hands in both of [yours]. 

Xiao willed himself not to be distracted by the myriad of ways [you] liked to show [your] affection with [your] hands and tried to decipher [your] meaning to no avail. “What do you mean?”

“You said that not having a care in the world, being at peace, and feeling joy was not something you understood. But I feel your joy here,” [You] rested [your] fingertips gently at his collar where [you] could feel the flutter of his heartbeat, fast as a butterfly’s wings. 

He was about to protest [your] warm hands leaving his when [you] continued. “I feel your peace here.” [You] said, hands grazing up his throat to cup his cheeks. 

“And your care-” [You] smiled faintly, brushing [your] thumb over the tip of his nose. “Right here.”

Xiao clicked his tongue, lips drawing down into a slight frown at the teasing. His mood however was betrayed by the way his pulse grew ever quicker under [your] touch. 

“As I have said, most mortal entertainment is fleeting, a short-lived spectacle.” He said in a tone notably softer than the growling timbre [you] were used to. He had declined, repeatedly, when [you] first asked him to join [you] for the festivities in a voice that struck fear into the hearts of heavenly and hellish creatures. 

But Xiao the Vigilant Yaksha, [you] had discovered, who always donned his mask in a way even when he wasn’t exorcising demons was not the Xiao that sat in front of [you]. He was not in the Xiao that gently took [your] hands back in his, nor the Xiao that pulled the blankets up and wrapped them around [you]. He was not the Xiao that [you] dared to hope in the dead of night, when demons stole him away from [you], could possibly return [your] feelings. 

[You] breathed in shakily, Xiao’s grip on [you] tightening at the sound. “Is this not?”

Xiao was somber, not unlike he was in the moments when his memories overcame him and he needed a minute to fight the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.

And in that serious tone of his, he spoke. “If you think that this relationship is something fleeting to me, then you are greatly mistaken.”

“You mean-” [You] choked at the words and the meaning behind them, startled. 

“Will you-” 

[You] didn’t let him finish, leaning all the way into his arms as [your] lips met, Xiao holding [you] so the boat wouldn’t tip over. [You] parted almost immediately, chaste and in awe of each other. 

“Give me permission to court you?” He continued, a little breathless as [your] cheeks heated in embarrassment. 

“O-Oh! I’m so sorry I misunderstood and I was too caught up in the ambiance and the way the moon and the lanterns lit up made you look so amazingly ethereal and unreal, I can’t believe you’re real and that you like me even though I-I make mistakes like think you want to kiss me-”

Xiao stared at [you] and his lips, the ones [you’d] kissed, curved into a smile brighter than any dawn [you’d] seen traversing Teyvat. The sheer joy and hope and affection in it infectiously warm. “You’re forgiven...” He murmured. As Xiao closed his eyes and rested his forehead against [yours], he whispered into the lantern filled night. 

“Only if you’ll let me do it again.”

[blessednereid]

LFLLLL Prologue: Mutual Pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 3.5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

~

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

        Lydia's House

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Lydiaaaaaa!" You had barged into Lydia's house unannounced that afternoon. You had work that afternoon, but you called in sick, not physically, but emotionally. And only Lydia could help you. 

"LYDIA LORRAINE MARTIN!"

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lydia's mom, Natalie, had come out of her office because of your shouts.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin, I didn't realize you were home. Your car wasn't in the driveway," you apologized.

"It's fine, dear. Lydia's upstairs taking a nap. You know how much of a heavy sleeper she is."

"Thank you, Mrs. Martin."

"Please, I've told you many times. Call me Natalie."

You nodded before heading upstairs, where Lydia's room was. 

You opened her door, and as you thought, she was lying on the bed, snoring and drooling. A sight you had gotten very used to since you first met her in third grade. 

"Lydia Lorraine Martin. We have a code-red!"

Immediately, Lydia jolted up from her bed and began flailing her arms in the air. She lost balance before falling off the side. 

"Oh, MY- Ugh." You went to help her sit back upright on the bed, sat next to her, and laid your head in her lap. 

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why did you wake me up?"

"We have a code red!!"

'Code reds' were what you and Lydia had when you caught real feelings for a guy. 

When you were younger and in middle school, Lydia had gotten a crush on the cutest guy in your math class. 

On Valentines Day, she wrote him a card and put it in his locker. The card said, "I think you're cute♡︎ What do you think about me?" Later that same day, she found out that almost all of the kids in your two's class had read the card. And on top of that, the guy was a huge jerk about it. 

Since then, you and Lydia vowed to never catch feelings for anyone until you were at least twenty-five. 

"Who is it, babe? What happened?" Lydia asked with a concerned tone. 

"It's Isaac."

"Your partner for the World History project?" 

"Yeah, him," you sighed. "We started getting closer, and he started talking to me, and we bonded over our moms' death, and there were carnival rides and vampires and freezy pops!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Slow down!"

"So basically, I did what you told me and took him to the county carnival, right? Then, he told me about his mom dying, and we talked about that, and then we went on rides and fought about their pace, and he was fine after like a two-hundred-foot drop. So then, we went on a rollercoaster, and after that, I was cold because I was wearing a light jacket."

"Okay, keep going…"

"So then he warmed me up by giving me a hug and then led me in the building, and we just hung out there until like five? Then when we were doing the slideshow, he started asking me about my room and shit, and when we were done, we watched that show I told you about, with the high school vampires."

"Oh, the babysitter one?"

"Yeah, that. So, he was actually interested. And then we just kept watching it together throughout the week since we finished the project. And then when we were presenting today, you know I have that stage fright. He just held my hand and calmed me down, and he listened to me after we were done, and he actually cared about it instead of dismissing it.

"Not that you dismiss it, Lydia." She nodded. 

"Anyways, after that, GB had to talk to us, and she ratted me out about writing his name down, and then he got slightly mad at me but not really, and then I explained. And he just told me he would see me tomorrow for our movie night…" you trailed off, debating whether you should tell her the last part.

"So that's when you realized?"

"After that, I turned away, and then he kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, 'see you tomorrow or something like that!"

Lydia chuckled. "So you have a code red?"

"Lydia, I have a hang-out with him tomorrow. I'm not gonna be able to fucking think straight!" 

"Babe, just go and see how it goes. Maybe it's a 24-hours thing, you know? Just adrenaline. It affected you like this because you don't go out."

"Lyds, it's not like that. It's different."

"Y/n, that's what I tell myself before every hookup," she deadpanned.

"Okay, yeah. You're right. It's just a 24-hour thing."

"It's just adrenaline, babes. Nothing more, nothing less."

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

  Movie Night

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

'Nothing more, nothing less…"

Those were the words that kept repeating in your head as you twisted Isaac's hair around your fingers around Isaac's hair as his head rested in your lap.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked rapidly.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine!" 

"It's just, you're not watching the show?" 

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"Whatever you say, princess…" 

Princess. The pet name made your heart flutter, and you thought you would explode. 

"Give me a minute, please!" was all you said before picking up your phone and dashing out the room.

You headed to the bathroom and dialed Lydia's number right after texting her "Code Red Emergency."

"It's not a 24-hours thing, is it?" she said when she picked up.

"No…"

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

 Previous Day

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

       Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

He watched you as you turned around. His nerves crawled through his spine, and he curled and unfurled his fingers before finding the confidence–, no, before finding the ability to move.

When his lips touched the side of your face, his heart was set aflame. 

'How did I just do that?' he thought. But entirely different words came out of his mouth. 

"See you," he said, and he internally pumped the air when he saw your lips curl upwards into a smile.

When he reached class, his actions had finally sunk into his mind. 

He went to his seat where his friend, Dillon Karis, sat beside him. Dillon was the only friend of Isaac, and they had known each other since middle school. 

"Dude!"

Dillon turned his head to his friend, whose urgent tone caught his attention.

"You know that girl I was telling you about?" Isaac said enthusiastically.

Dillon scoffed. "You mean the one who's been taking up all your Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights?

"Yeah, I remember her."

Isaac rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Dude, I think I may actually like her…"

"Holy—" Isaac cut him off.

"Shut up!"

Dillon took two breaths to calm down before speaking.

"Explain. Now!"

Isaac threw his head back.

"I don't know. It's just the way she makes me feel." He smiled. "It's like… the way my mom used to tell me about how she felt about my dad? It's weird."

"Bro, you barely know her. Are you sure?" 

"No, I'm not sure, but I think."

"Well, let me know. This is interesting. Shoulda brought some popcorn today, as I had planned," Dillon burst out laughing, and Isaac followed.

"Dude, I have to go to her house tomorrow."

"Why? I thought you already turned in the project." 

"We have our movie night," Isaac said before realizing what that might sound like to his friend. 

"Oh shit! So y'all already been going on dates?"

"No! No…" Isaac pointed his finger at his friend, signaling him to stop.

"Dude, so what are you gonna do?" 

"I don't know…"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Movie Night

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Isaac was now highly flustered as he laid his head in your lap. You didn't bring up the kiss, so he assumed he either made you uncomfortable or you didn't like him enough to care. 

He looked at your face to see if there were any signals or indications, but he saw that you were completely zoned out. 

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked before saying, "Oh yeah, I'm fine." 

Isaac raised his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the television. 

When you dashed out the room with little explanation, Isaac took his emotional matters into his own hands. He had decided to get rid of his feelings, sure that they were unrequited.

He headed out of your room and knocked on Stiles' door. 

"Come in!" he heard faintly, and he opened the door.

"Isaac, what's up?" Stiles had barely looked up from his work.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but I need some advice, and I figured that you probably know a lot about girls…"

"Not really, but I'm flattered you would think that. Please come in!"

Isaac stepped into the room and sat on Stiles' bed.

"Is this fine?" to which Stiles nodded.

"So, Isaac. Tell me what's going on," Stiles said before clasping his hands together. 

Isaac took multiple deep breaths. He was about to ask your brother how to get rid of his feelings for you. Who does that?

"I have a crush… on this girl. And I know that she doesn't like—" 

"You know, or you think?" 

"I think, but she's given no sign of liking me…"

"Okay, continue."

"She doesn't like me. And I was wondering if you knew if there was anything I could do to… get rid of the feelings I have…"

"Oh boy. Isaac, I wish I knew. I'm in that same position. However! I wouldn't tell you if I did know. Because you never know, right? Unless they've told you that they don't like you, you don't know for sure. And even then, it could happen in the future."

That was not the advice Isaac was hoping for, preferring to put himself out of his misery before he could get in it. 

"Alright, thanks, Stiles."

"No problem, bud!" 

Isaac walked back to your room, where you were laid down on your back. 

"Hey, where did you go?" 

"Nowhere, I just needed to… uh.. get some air." 

You squint your eyes, and even Isaac wasn't convinced by his lie, but he didn't say anything else before he laid beside you. 

"Lydia is having a party next Saturday. You should come."

"Oh, I don't think—"

"Please, Isaac? It'll be good for you to get out of your house like Mrs. GB said."

He couldn't resist the tug on his heart when you flashed your pouting eyes, and he had to give in.

"Fine, I'll see what I can do. That's not a promise." 

"Yay!" You exclaimed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. The action made Isaac's heart race, and all he wanted to do at that moment was kiss you. 

In fact, it was all he thought of for the next few minutes. 

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Isaac's Daydream

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Love?" 

"Yes, babe?" you responded to him. 

"This is the spot. Stop going ahead of me." 

You mouthed an "Oh" before laying down on the blanket he set by the flowerbed. 

"So, whose house are we breaking into right now, Mr. Lahey?" you teased. You and Isaac were sitting in the backyard of a foreign house you had never seen, but you followed Isaac anyways.

"Yours."

You scoffed a 'what' as you had never seen the house in your life.

"Mines. Ours." He smirked.

Your face of pleasant surprise made his racing heart slow, as he thought you wouldn't like it. 

"This is our house?" 

"Well, it was my grandparent's house. They left it to me when they died. They said I can only get it when I turn 18, and now since we're together, It's our house."

You leaped onto his lap and kissed him feverishly. 

"This is the best surprise ever!"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Reality

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Isaac!" You yelled, and Isaac didn't know what you had said before. 

"Sorry! I just zoned out."

"It's not a problem."

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"So, do you want to watch a scary movie?" 

You actually weren't planning on doing any of what Lydia had suggested you do, which was to just come outright and tell him you like him. 

Instead, you chose to suffer in silence, thinking there was no way possible that Isaac liked you back. And even if he had, you two would be better off as friends… Right?

At least that is what you chose to tell yourself.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Isaac Leaves

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

When the movie was over, Isaac went home, and you prepared for bed. 

That night you dreamt of things you wanted in your life that you couldn't have. 

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Your Dream

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Hey, Isaac?"

You two were curled up together on a couch watching a movie, much like your reality. However, a few things were different.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Babe, we're in a hotel, and the only restaurants have a pre-set menu. If you want food, you either get what they have, or we Postmates." 

"But neither sounds good. I want Pasta!" 

He sighed. "Then lets Postmates pasta, babe."

"But I want you to make it," you pouted. 

"Okay, how about this." You turned to face him to hear his proposition. 

"I get you dessert with the food they have here, and I make you pasta tomorrow?" 

You smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You hummed before saying, "That sounds perfect," and he kissed you with a burning passion.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

       Morning

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Y/N! WAKE UP!" Stiles woke you up from your dream. 

"WHERE'S THE FIRE?" You flailed around before falling off the bed. 

Stiles chuckled loudly. 

"MIECZYSŁAW STILINSKI!

"IT'S A FUCKING SUNDAY!" 

You groaned loudly before grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, effectively knocking him down but not ceasing his laughter.

"Relax, Relax! Dad's taking us out for breakfast."

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Ugh, I hate you. GO! Let me change!"

"Wait! Wait! I have a question…"

"What?" 

"What's going on between you and Lahey?"

You looked down and away from him. "Nothing," you murmured. 

When you looked back at him, his eyes were narrowed, and his forehead was crinkled. 

"I don't believe you one bit."

Your face heated. 

"There's nothing going on, Stiles."

He scoffed. "We may be fraternal, but we're still twins, Y/n. Whatever, I don't like him anyway."

"Why not, Sti?"

He moved his face closer to yours, and you craned your head back for air. 

"Because I'm your brother, I'm never gonna like any guy you date. None of them are worthy of my sister."

"Well, you don't have to hate him because nothing is going on."

"Hmmm... Sure," he stated simply before walking out. 

You got ready, wearing an off-shoulder baby blue top that was slightly… starchy in texture, as well as a pink plaid miniskirt and black slip-on sneakers. 

When you got downstairs, your dad and Stiles sighed a heavy "finally," and you mocked offense. 

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Waffle House

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

You got in the car and began driving. You looked out the window enjoying all the sights while Stiles tried to coax your dad into talking about cases. 

Your dad turned and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle House.

You sat at the counter and talked until someone came to get your drinks order. 

"So, Stiles, when are you going to bring a date home?" your dad asked with a squint. 

"Not anytime soon, He's still stuck on Lydia."

Stiles blushed. "Well, I mean, It's working. She knows who I am. "

"No, she doesn't. But… I do know this girl—" Stiles cut you off. 

"If it's not Lydia, then no, thank you. I'm stuck on her like white on rice."

Your dad interjected your argument. "Stiles, you sound like a stalker. Normally, we arrest people like you."

"Okay, Let's change the subject. Y/n, wanna tell dad about Isaac or should I?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Why should I? There's nothing going on?"

"Wait, who's Isaac?" your dad said while whirling his hand beside his head. 

"He was my partner for a project I had for World History."

Stiles laughed. "We presented on Friday. What have you guys been doing in your room?"

Your dad's eyes widened. "Why is he in your room?" 

"We just watch movies, Dad! We do nothing else!" 

"I highly doubt that. In fact, why don't I ask Isaac right now?" 

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"He's coming up behind us," he said, looking past your head. 

You began choking when you saw him in your peripheral version. 

"Can I get you something t- Stiles!" Isaac popped up from behind you and began to ask for your drink orders. 

"Hey, Isaac," you said as you turned around. 

"Hey, Y/n!" His intonation was normal, his facial expression was off. 

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, though his focus was on your dad's squinted gaze pointed directly at him. 

"Can I get a coffee?" Noah spoke up first. Isaac jotted down his order.

Stiles followed. 

"I'll get an Arnold Palmer!" he said while raising his hand. 

"Is that on the menu?" Isaac asked confusedly.

"No, but it's half of a lemonade, half of an iced tea in one glass."

"Okay… Arnold Palmer." 

"Y/n," the lovestruck boy said with a smile. "What about you?" 

The corners of your mouth turned up. "It's not on the menu, but is there an option for an iced coffee?" 

"Uh, I'm sure there is." He knew there wasn't, but he also knew you didn't like hot coffee much. 

"Are you sure? I don't want to--"

"It's fine, Y/n," he reassured.  

He walked away and headed to the kitchen to tell the cooks the drink order. 

"I need an iced coffee, a regular coffee, and A half-and-half lemonade-iced tea. Please," he added. 

Isaac glanced outside the kitchen window and gazed at you softly. He admired the way your eyes glimmered in the sun and how your hair bounced with every gesture you made. From this, he began to appreciate how amazing your hair looked and how the light refracted off of it. 

He smiled a lopsided grin as he watched the way your lips move. He imagined how they would feel on his. Soft. Smooth. He had the notion that you were probably experienced in that field, more so than he was. 

No. He couldn't imagine that. When he thought about the things he just thought, it sounded creepy and perverted. Besides, there was no way that you liked him back, so even thinking about it would just lead to further heartbreak. 

He grabbed your table's drinks and walked back, trying to ignore your smile because he couldn't stop the race that his heart ran whenever he saw it.

"Alright, here are your drinks."

"Isaac, can I talk to you outside?" asked Stiles.

"I'm actually working, so I can't do that. But, I can take your orders."

He jotted down each of your orders and went back to the kitchens.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

            You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"Stiles, I swear to God, I'm gonna hurt you."

"Not my fault you're over here pining after Lahey but won't do anything about it."

"Up your ass and off your high horse, Stiles!" You did your best to be quiet with your statement, but your dad still heard. 

"Hey, hey!"

"Sorry, Dad," you and Stiles said simultaneously. 

You watched the cooks prepare the food in front of you, but you hoped to see Isaac somehow, even though he was in the back.

You thought about his messy hair and how it felt in-between your fingers... How his eyes dilated with each smile, and the tiny specks of green in those ocean blue eyes were always able to calm you down.

You noticed how his lips were never chapped and how his cheeks looked like apples when he smiled, and the one dimple that was prominent in those moments as well. 

You wondered if this was how Lydia felt for the boy that caused their entire concept of code reds or if you began to feel something much more for the boy with the shy demeanor and quiet voice. 

When Isaac came back, you thought about how you could try to confess your feelings. But, you knew that if Isaac was barely willing to talk to you for a long time, it would be a snowball's chance in hell that he liked you the same way. 

"Alright, here's your waffles and your hash-browns, Y/n. Your sandwich, Sheriff, and your All-Star breakfast, Stiles."

"Thank you, Isaac," you said with a smile.

He turned to leave before you called out. 

"Um, Isaac!" He spun around on his heel at your calling with a questioning look on his face. 

He walked back towards you, prepared to write something else down on his order pad. 

"Movie night, tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Yeah, sure." 

"Dorota, you cannot tell me you do not like him."

"Mieczysław, I do not." 

Your dad cut in. "Sweetheart, and if you do?"

"I don't. Can we just leave it at that?" 

~

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Evil Scar on 3rd life? I really like your writing btw

3rd Life rly is just a place for people to have villain arcs lmfao /hj also thank you, i’m so glad you enjoy my stuff :D

(just a reminder: do not tag this or any of my work as shipping of any kind)

…

  “Mrrow.”

  Etho chuckles and leans on his pickaxe as his cat, named Pineapple Pizza, sits down on the staircase behind him, looking up at him. “Heyo. What can I do for you? You hungry?”

  Pineapple meows again in response.

  “Okay, then. Let’s get you some fish.”

  Seemingly delighted with his response, Pineapple jumps up onto Etho’s shoulders and curls herself round the back of his neck. Etho grins and tickles her under the chin as he goes back up the stairs of his mine and emerges back in the swamp. His wool bridge stands proud through the middle of the swampy water, looking rather good for a build made of white wool. 

  Etho roots around in his chest for some fish, but by the time he finds some, he realises that Pineapple has jumped down from his shoulders. Glancing around, he spots a figure moving around in the trees and heads over to investigate.

  As he approaches, Scar emerges from behind the tree and spots him. “Ah, Etho! Good to see you.”

  Etho blinks, acutely aware of the red heart on Scar’s neck. “Hi, Scar,” he says warily, but still with a friendly tone. “What can I do for you?”

  “Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood and I-.”

  “Meow.”

  Scar breaks off as Pineapple appears between them, sitting down and starting to lick her paw.

  “Is this your cat?” Scar asks, bending down and picking Pineapple up. 

  Etho starts to reach for his cat but stops, as if afraid of spooking a wild animal. “Uh, yes. Yes, that’s Pineapple Pizza, Piney for short. Scar, could you, um… Sorry, but would you mind not picking her up? She doesn’t like being held by anyone who isn’t me.”

  “But she’s so cute.” Scar strokes the top of Pineapple’s head. “I’ve been looking for a cat, you know. Haven’t seen any Jellies on this server so I guess this one’ll have to do.”

  As Etho stares at him in shock, Scar turns and walks out onto the bridge. Etho falls into step beside him. “Scar, please,” he pleads. “She’s my cat. I can help you find one of your own, but-.”

  “No, I like this one. Not only is she adorable but she seems to be in need of a new home.”

  “No, please!” Etho’s voice rises. “Scar, please don’t take her from me! Please!”

  Scar steps back, still holding Pineapple in his arms. “I’d stay back from me, if I were you. Otherwise you might lose more than just your cat and your extremely flammable bridge.”

  “Wh-.”

  Before Impulse even finishes his word, Scar turns and strikes his flint and steel, setting the wool bridge on fire. 

  “NO!” Etho screeches.

  He charges forwards and attempts to stamp out the fire but it’s already spreading, and all he succeeds in doing is burning his leg. Stumbling backwards, Etho realises quickly that his bridge is a lost cause. As the flames explode outwards, all he can do is dive over the edge into the swampy water. 

  He swims to safety and climbs out onto the shore. By the time he turns around, his entire bridge is alight. Abandoning it, he dashes down the swampy banks, searching wildly for any sign of Scar. 

  But his former friend is long gone, along with his beloved cat. 

…

  As the sun rises, Etho sits on top of the hill with his knees drawn into his chest, gazing numbly down at where his bridge used to be. All that’s left is two blocks of wool and some fences. He’s shed so many tears tonight that he has nothing left in him. 

  Everything he loves is gone. His tree, his bridge, and even his beloved cat. He has nothing now. Nothing. 

  “Etho!” comes Tango’s call from somewhere to his left. “Etho, where are you?” 

  Etho doesn’t respond. 

  After a moment, Tango and Impulse emerge from the forest and discover him sitting on the edge of the hill. Neither of them speak; they’ve already heard what happened. News and gossip travels fast on the server. 

  They sit down on either side of him, neither of them entirely sure what to say. 

  “How you holding up, buddy?” Impulse asks eventually. 

  Etho closes his eyes briefly, releasing one stray tear he didn’t know was there. “Why does Scar hate me?” he whispers. 

  Tango and Impulse exchange a sympathetic look. 

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Tango begins. “He…” 

  “He burned down my tree and my bridge, and took my cat away from me. I must have done something to make him hate me.” 

  “No, buddy.” Impulse puts his arm over Etho’s shoulder. “Scar is… He’s… different than how he used to be. This server has changed him, and I guess it’s changed all of us. Just… him in a different way.”

  After a moment, Etho stands up, shaking Impulse’s arm off his shoulder. 

  Tango and Impulse also simultaneously rise to their feet. “Are you gonna be okay?” Tango asks. 

  Etho takes his gloves out of his pocket and puts them on. “Eventually.”

  “Not sure I like that answer. Etho, don’t push us away, okay? We’ll help you out, we’ll support you. Anything you need.”

  “Yeah,” adds Impulse. “Anything.” 

  “Alright, I appreciate that. I think I just need to be left alone for a while.”

  Exchanging another look, Tango and Impulse reluctantly nod. “Okay,” says the former. “You know where we are if you need us.”

  Etho waits until they’re out of sight before climbing into his boat and taking off across the swamp. He has somewhere to be.

…

  Etho climbs the sandy hill and stands a safe distance away from the small castle at the top. “Scar!” he calls. “Scar, come here!”

  He spots Grian dithering just inside the entrance of the house, but before he can call to him, Scar brushes past him and stands in front of him, crossing his arms. “What do you want, Etho?”

  “I want my cat back,” Etho responds steadily. “You’ve now burned down two things that meant a lot to me and I couldn’t stop you, so I’m here to fight for the only thing I have left. If you don’t give her back to me, I WILL resort to violence.” 

  Grian glances sharply at Scar. “That black cat is Etho’s?” 

  Scar shrugs. “So what if it is? He’s not gonna do anything about it. The rules say that PvP can only begin if a red lifer initiates it. And if I do initiate violence, I promise you, you won’t last long enough to strike me back.” 

  Etho’s narrowed eyes flicker to Grian, who reluctantly nods. “He’s right. If Scar strikes first, you’re allowed to strike back. But if he doesn’t, you can’t legally touch him.”

  Etho curls his hands into fists. “Why are you doing this, Scar? First my tree, then my cat, then my bridge. Why do you delight in taking away everything I care about?”

  “You have no idea how delicious it is to take things from people and watch as they slowly come to realise they can’t do a single thing about it,” replies Scar, grinning maliciously. “Maybe if you had a red heart like me, you’d understand.”

  “You get how being on red isn’t a GOOD thing, right?” Grian says warily from behind him. “One more death and you’re gone. And Etho could kill you right now, you know. He’d be breaking the rules, but that wouldn’t bring you back from the dead.” 

  “You shut up, Grian,” snarls Scar. “I didn’t ask for your input.”

  Grian flinches and turns away. 

  Seeing his friend mistreated like that pushes Etho over the edge. Grian is clearly scared of Scar. There’s no reason for him to be, unless Scar isn’t exactly his friend anymore. 

  Etho grabs Scar’s lapels and shoves him against the wall. Before Scar can even make a noise, Etho shoves his face close to Scar’s and snarls, “WHERE. IS. MY. CAT.”

  “I-I put her upstairs in the bedroom,” yelps Scar. “G-Grian, save me! Don’t let him kill me!”

  “I’m not gonna kill you.” 

  Etho shoves Scar aside and barges into the building. Grian wordlessly leads him upstairs to the room in question, where Etho finds Pineapple curled up on the bed. “Piney!”

  She opens her eyes and, upon spotting him, jumps down from the bed and circles his feet, rubbing her head against his ankles. 

  Etho almost cries with relief. “Oh, Piney… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  He picks up Pineapple and lets her lie across his shoulders, before turning to Grian. “You don’t have to stay with him anymore, Grian. I know you said you owe him your first life, but just look at yourself. You’re miserable here with him. Scar’s turned into a bully, and you’re the person he targets when there’s nobody else around. You don’t have to live like this anymore.”

  Grian sighs quietly. “Where would I go? I burned all my bridges when I came here with Scar. And would I even be safe from him?”

  “Come live with me in the swamp,” Etho urges. “I’ll protect you. He may be on his red life but if he strikes one of us, the other can take him down. I’ll make sure if he strikes either of us, it’ll be me. You’ve been through a lot since Scar’s first death; you deserve your freedom.”

  For a moment, Grian doesn’t seem convinced. 

  Then Scar’s voice yells his name from downstairs and Grian again finds himself flinching. 

  This clinches it. He can’t spend the rest of his time on the server doing Scar’s bidding, waiting for either Scar or himself to die. That’s no way to live and he knows it.

  Finally, he nods. “Okay, I’ll come with you. Th-Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Etho leads the way back downstairs. He finds Scar standing in the doorway, arms crossed again, seemingly having regained his composure. “I heard what you said. Do you really think you can get away with stealing my cat AND my best friend?”

  “She’s not your cat,” snaps Etho.

  “I’m not your best friend!” Grian bursts out at the same time.

  Scar blinks. “Grian, what’d you just say?”

  “You’re not my best friend, Scar! Not anymore. Ever since you lost your first life, you’ve been different. And you’ve only gotten worse since you lost your second. I-I can’t live here with you anymore.” Grian’s voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”

  Scar’s shocked expression quickly turns into a ferocious glare. “Fine, then! Go, both of you. But don’t expect any mercy from me when I’m ready to start killing people. I’ll be coming for you first.”

  Grian freezes.

  Etho takes hold of his wrist and skilfully pulls him past Scar and out of the house. “You’ll be okay, Grian,” he says reassuringly. “I promise.” To Scar, he says a simple, “Goodbye.”

  Scar turns away as Etho and Grian head down the sandy mountain. “Did that really just happen?” Grian says numbly. “Did I really just abandon Scar?”

  “You did,” says Etho warmly, putting his arm over Grian’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  Grian takes a deep breath. It’s the same air, but somehow, it tastes fresher. “Good, I think. You?”

  Etho smiles as he feels Pineapple rub her head against his cheek. For the first time, he hasn’t let Scar get away with taking something he cares about. It feels great. 

  “Never better.”

[miraculousares]

Because I doubt the writers are going to feed us the interaction immediately after The Thing™, here I am. GANG OF SECRETS SPOILERS. IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED S4 YET, DO NOT READ ON

Marinette clutched the sides of her head as if she might explode if she didn't hold everything together. "You're right, I have secrets and I lie all the time! I lie to my parents, to my friends. To everyone..." She felt her best friend sit beside her on the chair but she was so caught up in her feelings that she couldn't process it. "And the worst part about it is that I can't do anything about it!" She buried her face in her hands, fighting back another bought of sobs.

"We always have the choice, Marinette." Alya spoke softly and carefully putting her arms around the girl. In the back of her head, Marinette was sure that she could feel her shaking but at this point, she didn't care. She was overwhelmed. She was heartbroken. She was stressed. She was terrified.

"No." She looked up and met her friend's eyes and saw a look of sympathy. "At least not for me. I've got no other choice. It's all beyond us, Alya, and it's too heavy to carry." She wiped a tear from her face.

"If it's too heavy, then we'll be two to carry it," the girl whispered comfortingly. With this, Marinette let out a long breath. She knew what the right decision was to the discourse she'd been having in her own head all day. That didn't stop her fear from taking control, though.

"If I tell you, things between us will never be the same. It's going to destroy everything, change it all."

"Marinette, whatever you'll say, I'm your friend." Marinette could hear how desperately her friend wanted to know. But it wasn't out of curiosity or pushiness. It was to take the burden of her secret from her. To help her carry it.

"And me..." She searched her friend's eyes, gaining the confidence and reassurance she needed from the loving stare of her best friend. "I'm Ladybug." Time seemed to move in slow motion. For a moment, she wondered if Bunnix had done it, showing up to keep her from telling Alya. But instead, time resumed as the redhead's expression quickly changed from shock and confusion to one of understanding before pulling her into a tight hug. She paused for a moment before wrapping her own arms around her friend and let herself sob silently into her shoulder.

If she was being honest, Marinette had thought of a thousand different scenarios as to how Alya might react. The majority of them were filled with neverending questions from the Ladybug-Superfan. A select few ended with Alya storming out and never speaking to her. One even included her selling her out to Shadowmoth, though she shut that one down quickly. However, she hadn't let herself imagine Alya comforting her immediately. Marinette was grateful to her friend for that. She didn't ask her to prove it, ask her a million questions, or even speak. She just hugged her because she trusted her. Alya had complete faith in her.

After a few minutes of letting out the weeks' worth of sorrow and pressure out into her friend's flannel-clad shoulder, she eventually pulled away and searched Alya's eyes. She seemed to be processing the information, but sympathy and understanding still took over her face. Seeing that expression, all worries and stress washed away in a wave of overwhelming relief. It felt amazing to have finally told someone and she knew she had made the right choice. She let out another breath and a smile forced itself onto her face. It felt foreign on her face now, rarely having worn one since becoming the gaurdian, but it felt at home. She wiped her cheeks and laughed. Nothing was amusing, she was just so happy that it escaped her lips automatically.

"Okay, I'm okay. You can react now," she announced. Though Alya was doing an amazing job at just being understanding, she could tell that her best friend was bursting with questions. Alya seemed to scan over her one last time to check for any remaining need of comfort before letting her face turn to an expression of shock.

She sat silent for a moment as if trying to organize her thoughts before breathing out, "You've beta-read so much of my LadyNoir fanfiction..." Marinette couldn't help the loud laugh. She clapped her hand over her mouth but Alya just joined in the laughter. They sat there letting out all of their relief and joy and connection through that shared laugh until their stomachs hurt. Eventually, they were able to get their breath back and Alya seemed to be more collected in her processing.

"Okay, actually though, that's insane. Ladybug has been my best friend this whole time and I had no clue. And all the pressure you've been under this whole time. I mean hell, Marinette! Paris' safety- No. The world's safety has been sitting on your and Chat Noir's shoulders for two years and you're only 16! I can't even imagine it! I mean, I guess I can to an extent because, ya know, Rena Rogue. But that's more of a part-time gig and it's not like everyone's relying super heavily on me. And now I'm rambling. What I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you trusted me with this and I'm so sorry I haven't been able to support you the way you've been needing. But I'm here now." She inhaled, clearly having forgotten to breathe during her ramble, and pulled Marinette into one more hug. "Can I ask questions?" She asked after they pulled apart again.

Marinette smiled. "Of course, Als."

"Okay. God, where do I even start? Do you know who Chat Noir is?"

"No. It's too dangerous for us to know each other's identities. Shadowmoth needs both of our miraculous and if we knew each other's identities, that would make it that much easier for him to get them," Marinette explained. It felt amazing to finally be talking about this with someone. Of course, she always had Tikki and now the other kwamis, but she needed the support of another person. She needed the support of her best friend.

"So he doesn't know who you are either?" Marinette shook her head and Alya nodded. "How did you even get your miraculous? I mean it's not like there was a Ladybug to hand it to you like I got mine."

"The last guardian, Master Fu, gave them to us. I don't know what happened with Chat Noir but I imagine that it was similar to why he gave me mine. I saved him from getting hit by a car in a crosswalk and showed him kindness. He told me later that he could see the 'heroic qualities' in me." She used her fingers to make air quotes around the words.

"That's incredible!" She paused for a moment, eyebrows raised in thought. "Oh my god, so many things make so much sense now."

"RIGHT?!" Marinette exclaimed.

"That's why you're always late! And why you're always so tired! And why you just dash out of class in the middle of the day!"

"EXACTLY!" Marinette practically shouted, relieved to finally be understood.

"Oh,

man... Everything's clicking in place, wow." Marinette could almost see the equations floating in front of Alya's face.

"Wait, sorry if this is out of line but... Is LadyNoir canon?"

"WHAT! No! Not in a million years!"

"Then what is this?" Alya whipped out her phone and showed Marinette her home screen. It was the picture that had been haunting the girl since it was taken. She wished it would disappear but it was constantly resurfacing on the internet and on tabloid covers. The photo of her and Chat Noir kissing on the rooftop after battling Oblivio.

"I have no idea what that was," she admitted. "I have no memory of even defeating Oblivio, let alone kissing that mangy cat."

"I mean, I know you're going through a lot right now and have sworn off romance for the time being but... Could it ever happen?"

Marinette opened her mouth to respond but all that came out was a sigh. "No," was all she said.

"Why not?"

"I..." Tears formed in her eyes and Alya immediately pulled her into a hug.

"Oh my god, Marinette. I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No, no. I just... I haven't really let myself think about it since it happened. But, I guess I can finally talk about it, huh?"

"You can tell me anything, you know that."

And so, Marinette told Alya about what happened with Chat Blanc. She explained how their love destroyed the world. She explained how her own irresponsibility with her miraculous had destroyed the world. The whole event had honestly been very traumatic to Marinette and weighed heavily on her heart. Since that, she'd been even more closed off about her secret, especially to her partner. She hadn't let herself think about it if she could help it, but it still haunted her in her nightmares.

As she finished the story, Alya tightened her arms around her. "Marinette, I am so, so sorry that you had to go through that. You've been put through so much and you've been holding on to so much pressure and it's not fair. Mari, when I tell you this, I want you to believe me. You are the strongest person I know. You've gone through more than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. Yet, you still manage to find a way to always be there for your friends and your family. You're out all night fighting for your life and for the world and then you come to school and you're there for everyone else. You are so, so strong. You're amazing and not just because you're Ladybug, but because you're Marinette."  Marinette couldn't hold back the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she hugged her best friend. Any regrets or doubts she worried she might have about telling Alya were gone. She knew she had made the right choice.

The girls spent the rest of the night talking about this, a mix of laughing and crying until they eventually fell asleep there on Marinette's couch, tired from the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you, Alya, for being here for me," Marinette whispered as Alya's breathing steadied. Then, she closed her eyes and fell asleep herself. For the first time in weeks, her dreams were light and hopeful.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Soulmate

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Three: (Fake/Secret Dating, Soulmate, Hobbies)

A/N: Here we are, the last time I’ll need to give this warning! This is the last part of the main storyline, everything else after this will be snippets from this AU safe for anyone to read. Enjoy! Word Count: 4,104

Mitsuri waited outside the gates of Sekirei Girls’ Academy, humming and rocking on her feet. It was obscenely early, but it was a price she was willing to pay if it meant being the first person to greet Shinobu on school grounds each morning.

Mitsuri was very happy. Ever since the surprise thunderstorm, she and Shinobu had grown much closer. Whenever Shinobu would spot her, she’d shoot Mitsuri the cutest little smile that made the older girl’s heart feel like it was going to explode! They talked more and even hung out outside of school on occasion, it was all Mitsuri had ever hoped for in pursuing a relationship with the cool, smart and beautiful Kochou Shinobu.

There was one thing that bothered her though, and that would be Shinobu’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the strange bond between them. It hadn’t just been a product of the storm, they had experienced the visions a few more times since then. Usually, a specific touch or smell, even a sound could trigger an event and they’ve only gotten clearer since that rainy day.

From what Mitsuri gathered, she and Shinobu had been part of some kind of war if the uniforms and katanas were anything to go by. She didn’t really have many specific details beyond that. Many of the visions that came to her seemed to reflect whatever triggered them in the first place. Mitsuri had been researching the phenomenon in her spare time, but wasn’t making much progress on her own. She was sure if she could get Shinobu’s help on the matter they could actually find something, but as previously said, Shinobu wanted nothing to do with it. That didn’t mean Mitsuri was going to give up though.

“Good morning, Shinobu-chan!”  Mitsuri grinned and waved excitedly as Shinobu appeared in the distance.

“Good morning,” Shinobu answered once she was close enough to do so without yelling. Her lips were curled into that small smile that Mitsuri loved to see.

“What are you going to be practicing today, Shinobu?” Mitsuri asked, following her Kouhai to the track. Now that she had her foot in the door of Shinobu’s life, she was working on wiggling herself further in by spending all the time she could with her.

“My events next week are going to be the triple jump, high jump, one hundred meter dash, one hundred meter hurdles and the four hundred meter relay.” Shinobu recalled. “After I warm up I think I’ll start practicing my jumps and finish off with the sprints. I wanted to try pole vaulting, but Tomioka says I have to focus on my strengths now that the season is almost over. He’s such a killjoy.”

Mitsuri giggled. That was another part of Shinobu’s practices that she loved to watch. The shorter girl often sassed the coach or countered his teachings. It had worried Mitsuri at first, but quickly learned that it was simply their dynamic.

“There’s always next year, Shinobu! It’s sad I’m graduating this year, watching you practice is so fun. It’s too bad we didn’t become friends sooner, then you could have watched me during dance and volleyball season.” Mitsuri said wistfully.

“I’ve seen you do both many times.” Shinobu mumbled, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “My sister was in both of those clubs as you may recall.”

“Yes! That’s true!” Mitsuri clapped before she thought about it a moment more and her face dropped. “But that means you’ve only seen me at my worst! I was only a first year back then and I wasn’t really good.”

“I remember, you fell a lot.” Shinobu snorted. Mitsuri covered her face and whined pitifully.

“But I didn’t stop going to meets and events even after Kanae graduated. You really improved over time.” Shinobu added shyly, keeping her eyes staring firmly ahead at the track where some other girls were already warming up.

“Aw, Shinobu!” Mitsuri cooed. She couldn’t stop herself from latching on to the shorter girl, pressing tightly into her side while Shinobu tried halfheartedly to shove her off.

The pair slowed their stride significantly as another vision past behind their eyes. A similar hug, but again with the strange uniforms and taking place in a grand garden that was growing steadily more familiar.

"Come on, I know you saw that." Mitsuri said once the feeling past and they began walking again.

"Saw what?" Shinobu feigned ignorance.

“Shinobu, when are you going to admit there is something supernatural going on here?”

“Never. It’s just absurd. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.” Shinobu said, setting her bag on the bleachers.

“What do you mean? You love ghost stories and supernatural phenomena.” Mitsuri countered, sitting beside Shinobu’s belongings.

“I love telling scary stories precisely because I don’t believe in any of that junk. It’s funny to see how others react.”

“If you would help me with my research for just one night, I just know we could find something.”

“I’m sorry, Mitsuri. That just sounds like a waste of time,” Shinobu said, stretching her arms over her head before placing her hands back over her hips, “I’ve got to go warm up now.”

“No!” Mitsuri pouted.

“What?”

Mitsuri snatched Shinobu, catching her off guard and making her fall into Mitsuri’s lap.

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu scolded quietly, “let go!”

“Not until you promise to help me research what’s going on between us! Just one day, please!” Mitsuri exclaimed, pressing her cheek snuggly between Shinobu’s shoulder blades as her strong arms held her firmly in place.

“Fine, fine! Just cut it out!” Shinobu snapped.

“Yes!” Mitsuri cheered. She gave Shinobu one last tight squeeze before letting her go. The Kouhai stood and shot a glare at the giddy girl before darting of onto the track. Her skin already flushed before her workout even began.

Mitsuri used the rest of her time organizing the research she already had so she could really optimize her time with Shinobu. It was a little difficult to stay on task however, when she could be watching Shinobu twist over the high jump pole or sprint and leap over hurdles like they weren’t even an obstacle. Needless to say, Mitsuri didn’t get as much work done as she could have.

***

They had set the research session for Saturday. Shinobu thought she could have gotten away with a couple of hours Friday night, but Mitsuri had shot down that idea quickly. She had finally coerced Shinobu into helping her and she wasn’t going to settle for a couple of hours, she wanted a whole day.

They decided to do their research at Shinobu’s since it was a more quiet and controlled space than Mitsuri’s house with all her rambunctious siblings running about.

Mitsuri arrived bright and early Saturday morning, beaming brighter than the sun. Shinobu answered the door with messy hair and squinty eyes. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting Mitsuri to already be here. It was only seven in the morning after all.

“What time did you wake up this morning? You live on the other side of town.” Shinobu asked. She sounded grumpy, but it was mostly because she herself had only woken up fifteen minutes ago.

“I couldn’t sleep at all Shinobu. I couldn’t stop thinking about how excited I was to spend the day with you!” Mitsuri said, giving off a glow that should not have been humanly possible for someone who hadn’t slept at all the night before.

“You’re insane.” Shinobu deadpanned whilst making room for Mitsuri to enter her home.

While Shinobu finished getting ready for the day, Mitsuri made herself at home in Shinobu’s room and set up her own workspace. With Kanae at her job and Kanao heading out later to stay over at a friend’s house, it would just be the two of them for a majority of the day. Mitsuri wasn’t sure why, but the thought made her heart beat faster.

“Alright,” Shinobu sighed, dropping onto her futon beside Mitsuri, “what do you have so far?”

Mitsuri turned to face Shinobu and smiled. Gone was the cute, tousled bed hair, now tucked neatly into place, but the giant hoodie and athletic shorts she had been wearing when she had answered the door remained unchanged.

“You really like wearing giant sweatshirts, don’t you Shinobu?” Mitsuri had said instead with a light giggle.

“I get cold.” She stated simply.

“But you’re wearing shorts. Wouldn’t it help if you wore something longer?” The older girl pointed out.

“Watch this,” Shinobu sat up further back on the futon, “I’m about to blow your mind.”

Shinobu lifted the hem of her hoodie and before Mitsuri could register and appreciate the newly exposed skin it was quickly gone again as Shinobu’s knees pressed against her chest and the large hoodie was thrown back into place, encompassing all of Shinobu’s legs, making her look like a lumpy egg with a human head.

Mitsuri blanked for a moment, taking in Shinobu’s form for a few moments before laughing heartily. Shinobu laughed too, although more subdued. She had gotten just the reaction she was hoping for.

“What a problem solver, Shinobu-chan,” Mitsuri wiped a tear from her eye, “when you get a boyfriend you’re going to steal all of his hoodies, aren’t you?”

Shinobu winced a bit at the insinuation, instead of giving Mitsuri a real answer she hummed noncommittally, making Mitsuri tilt her head curiously.

Then a thought crossed Mitsuri’s mind that chilled her to the core, did Shinobu already have a boyfriend? She was so beautiful and amazing, had someone already claimed her heart? She lurched forward, startling Shinobu by balancing her weight over Shinobu’s knees, still hidden beneath the blanket like sweatshirt.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Shinobu?” She squeaked, her face mere centimeters away from the other’s.

“What? No!” Shinobu denied, blush crawling its way up her neck from their proximity.

“You promise? You don’t have to hide from me Shinobu, I’ll be your number one supporter!”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Mitsuri. I never will so just drop it, okay?” Shinobu said, attempting to push Mitsuri out of her personal space.

“What do you mean, never?” Mitsuri was flabbergasted. Did Shinobu think that as pretty and charming as she was, she couldn’t get any boy she wanted? Now instead of relieved that Shinobu didn’t have a boyfriend, she was upset that Shinobu thought she would never have one. “You are beautiful Shinobu, and so smart and dedicated! Don’t give up, you’ll find the right boy for you and if they don’t treat you right they don’t deserve you! Just like you told me, right?”

“Mitsuri, stop.” Shinobu warned, running a hand through her hair.

“But it’s true! You could have any boy you want Shinobu.”

“I don’t want a boy!” Shinobu finally yelled, exasperated. “I don’t want a boy.” She said again this time in a more even tone, jerking her head away from Mitsuri.

“Don’t want a... oh!” Mitsuri clapped her hands together, “Do you want a girlfriend to share your hoodies with then?”

Though her head was turned, Mitsuri watched in amazement as Shinobu’s ears turned red before her very eyes. After a moment of silence, it was clear Shinobu was tongue tied.

“You do!” Mitsuri yelled, wiggling excitedly, “This is great, we can talk about what girls we think are cute together sometime. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“...What?” Shinobu peaked over her shoulder at Mitsuri.

“Well you know me, Shinobu. I like a lot of different people. It’ll be fun to see where we might overlap.” Mitsuri said as if it was obvious, no big deal. Unfortunately for her, her own idea didn’t make her feel much better. For some reason the idea of Shinobu sharing what other girls she found attractive made her feel anxious.

“No, I didn’t know that. I’ve only ever heard you talk about boys.” Shinobu said, distracting Mitsuri.

“Oh, well, now you know I guess.” Mitsuri shrugged with a smile, her face still hovering painfully close to Shinobu.

Shinobu could just about die.

A knock on the door saves her, and she calls Kanao in. The younger girl has her backpack on and a sleeping bag roll hugged against her chest.

“Nezuko and her mom are here to pick me up.” She said, staring between the two older girls and wondering why her sister appeared so flustered.

“Okay, do you have everything?” Shinobu got up from her futon, happy for an excuse to step away from Mitsuri and her honey sweet scent.

“Yes.” Kanao answered with a nod.

“And how are you getting home tomorrow?” Shinobu asked.

“Aoi said her dad would drop me off.”

“Alright, call or text if you need anything. If you want to come home early Kanae will pick you up at anytime, okay?” Shinobu reminded. Since their parents were often away, Shinobu and Kanae had basically been Kanao’s primary caretakers ever since she was adopted. It was a little hard at times for Shinobu to remember that Kanao wasn’t so little anymore.

“I remember, see you tomorrow, Nee-san.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Kanao turned, rounded the corner and with a quiet closing and locking of a door, she was gone.

Shinobu cleared her throat and turned back to Mitsuri, who had watched the interaction with hearts in her eyes.

“So, are we ever going to get into your, ‘research’ or are we just going to sit here and do nothing all day?” Shinobu crossed her arms, her eyes not quite meeting Mitsuri’s as she was still embarrassed from earlier.

That seemed to jolt Mitsuri out of her musings and the older girl quickly finished setting up and filled Shinobu in on what she had so far.

“So basically,” Shinobu leaned her back against the wall, “you have nothing.”

“That’s not true!” Mitsuri pouted, leaning closer to Shinobu to shove her laptop in the younger girl’s face, “Did you read this article about telepathic dream links and dimensional rifts?”

“Just hearing you say that aloud makes my brain want to melt.” Shinobu snorted.

“Take this seriously Shinobu. You promised you’d try today.” Mitsuri pleaded.

“You’re right,” Shinobu sighed, taking the laptop from Mitsuri’s hands to place it on her own lap, “sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Now, how can we find out what’s going on with us?”

“Well, let’s type... connected vision experiences, and see if we find something similar and go from there.” Shinobu tapped the enter key and the relevant links popped up on the search engine.

Articles, websites and message boards yielded very little the first hour or so. Then they got really serious. Shinobu got out her own laptop so they could broaden their search. Occasionally they would share an interesting or just down right insane tidbit of information but largely nothing came up that sounded like what they were experiencing.

After awhile, Mitsuri noticed that Shinobu had gone quiet and seemed to be reading something rather intently. Excited, Mitsuri knocked shoulders with her.

“Did you find something good, Shinobu?” She asked.

“Ah, no. Sorry.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed. “I was reading an article about a new species of butterfly.”

“Aw, Shinobu! Stay on task here, come on!” Mitsuri scolded as best she could, but she was just too sweet for her words to have much bite.

“A break wouldn’t hurt, would it? Aren’t you hungry? I’ll order a delivery for whatever you want.” Shinobu enticed.

Now how could Mitsuri say no to that? Especially since her stomach had just then decided to speak for her with a low rumble.

“Food sounds great!” Mitsuri said, easily giving in.

“What do you want?” Shinobu asked, getting up.

“Mochi!” Mitsuri cheered.

“And?” Shinobu laughed.

“Tempura and miso! No wait, oden! No wait, ramen? Yakitori?” Mitsuri rubbed her temples, a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. This was an important decision!

“Pick a couple of things we can get at the same restaurant and anything you wanted that we didn’t get, we can make for dinner, okay?” Shinobu suggested after watching Mitsuri struggle for a minute.

“Really Shinobu? You’re the best!” Mitsuri praised.

They came up with a list and Shinobu ordered from the restaurant before going to the kitchen to make sure they had the ingredients they needed for dinner, leaving Mitsuri to continue their research.

Mitsuri was thinking of a new phrase to put in her search bar when Shinobu’s laptop caught her eye, still open and waiting for its owner to return. With a light hum, she set her own laptop aside, replacing it with Shinobu’s. Shinobu was right, a little break would be fine and she really wanted to see what this new butterfly looked like.

Mitsuri scrolled back to the top of the page, letting out a disappointed huff as there were no pictures. She scoured for the name of the butterfly to look it up herself, but the words she scanned gave her more questions than answers.

Words and phrases of past lives and tragedy, rebirth and second chances. An uncommon phenomenon. Mitsuri decided to reread from the beginning with complete focus.

A few minutes later, Shinobu reentered the room, looking down at her phone as she finished typing out a grocery list.

“Hey, we’re short on a few things. I’m just going to pop by the convenience store down the street. Do you want to come?”

“Why did you lie?” Mitsuri frowned at Shinobu instead, causing the other to whip her head up from her phone.

“Wha—“ Shinobu cut herself off as soon as she saw her laptop in Mitsuri’s grasp. “Oh Mitsuri, I just— it’s one article. It doesn’t mean anything...“

“Doesn’t mean anything... Shinobu, this is us to a T!” Mitsuri shot her arms up above her head, “We’re soulmates!”

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu tried to de-escalate, “you can’t believe everything you read, I didn’t find anything else about the subject. It’s just one story and—“

“It’s so detailed. The visions Koyuki and Hakuji shared, they aren’t so different from how our own come to us,” Mitsuri laid back against the futon with a light groan, covering her eyes. “To think we experienced some tragic end in our past lives, and the visions were so we could find each other and try falling in love again. It’s a lot to take in.”

Mitsuri let out a big breath of air and then remembered that she was still hurt that Shinobu had lied to her and sat back up.

“So why did you lie, Shinobu? Do you,” her voice got quieter, “do you not like me?”

“I do like you, don’t be ridiculous. I was just, I don’t know...” Shinobu huffed, walking over to her fish tank to watch the little colorful fish swim about. An excuse to not have to look at Mitsuri’s sad face.

“Is it because of my hair or maybe, because I eat a lot? Because I’m too clingy?” Mitsuri thought aloud, making Shinobu immediately turn back and stalk over to her.

Mitsuri yelped as Shinobu pushed her back against the futon and hovered over her, eyes dark with great sincerity as she poked Mitsuri squarely in the chest.

“You stop that right now.” Shinobu warned quietly. “There is not one part of you that I don’t like,” She changed her position to sit beside Mitsuri and looked down at the floor,

“...I was just, nervous I guess. I didn’t know how you would react. If you would think I was trying to take advantage of you or you would want to be with me just because of what one story had to say. If we did become a, a couple, I would hope it would because we are genuinely happy with each other and not because we may have known each other in another life.”

Mitsuri sat back up again and nodded vigorously, wrapping up Shinobu in a side hug with her head resting on her shoulder.

“I’ve liked you for a long time. Ever since I saw you running at the sports festival last year, I thought you were really cool and pretty. You made my heart leap back then before I even knew your name. Even without our shared visions or the possibility of the existence of soulmates, I would still want to be with you.” Mitsuri spoke, her words heartfelt, and Shinobu knew it.

“Until now, I didn’t let myself really think about asking you to be my girlfriend because, well, you know what I’ve told you of my track record with dating. They would always end up leaving. I didn’t want you to leave too.”

“I wouldn’t.” Shinobu said sternly, crossing her arms beneath Mitsuri’s side hug, making the older girl giggle and bury her head further into Shinobu’s neck. “Those guys were all assholes.”

“This is why I was so worried you might have already been dating someone, you’re just so expressive and— ahh! I just like you a lot!” Mitsuri nuzzled.

“I like you too.” Shinobu mumbled but she was full of sincerity. She freed one of her arms so she could pat Mitsuri affectionately on her back before clearing her throat.

“So do you, would you, like to go on a date sometime? Not because we might be soulmates or whatever, but because you would genuinely like to regardless?” She asked.

Mitsuri squealed and shook Shinobu in her arms, “Yes! Yes, I’d really like to do that. Do you mean it? Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I do. —Hey!”

Mitsuri pulled Shinobu back down on the futon with her, still hugging her close. Wisteria clung to her nose the longer she stayed close and she didn’t want to leave. Mitsuri grinned into Shinobu’s shoulder as she felt arms finally wrap around her.

“What a weird, amazing day, hm?” Mitsuri breathed through a relaxed sigh.

“Tell me about it.” Shinobu sighed in return though she sounded more spent than relaxed. She wasn’t accustomed to sharing such gooey emotions like this. Honestly, she felt lucky Mitsuri had the patience to bear with her.

“Aren’t you glad I made you do this research with me now?”

“Mm, probably would have just been a lot less work for you to just as me out instead while you had me trapped.” Shinobu responded cheekily, earning a light slap on the arm.

“Now, as much as I’d love to lay here, the food should be here in less than twenty minutes and I’d really like to grab those groceries before the delivery person gets here. Are you coming?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll never leave your side again!” Mitsuri said, shifting her body upwards a bit so she could show Shinobu her very serious, yet extremely cute and hardly intimidating, expression.

“Oh dear, what have I done.” Shinobu couldn’t help but smile. Hesitantly she caressed Mitsuri’s cheek and she melted instantly under her touch.

Before they could leave, Shinobu said she had to change her sweatshirt first and Mitsuri lightly poked fun at her, but in all honesty it would have been like Shinobu was wearing a Snuggie out in public with how big that hoodie was.

Shoes on, they walked down the street to their destination. Surprisingly, their conversation on the way felt normal as if nothing had really changed and that felt good. Mitsuri nervously brushed knuckles with Shinobu a few times and the younger girl easily took her hand in her own. They both quieted for a moment and smiled to themselves, enjoying the small, but not insignificant, act of intimacy.

They got the ingredients they needed with added snacks and managed to just barely beat the delivery person home with a couple minutes to spare. They put away the groceries and set up lunch in the living room because Mitsuri insisted on eating under the kotatsu even though the chills of winter had long since past. Shinobu was happy to indulge her anyway and offered to put a movie on to watch while they ate. They picked one and sat together, steadily migrating closer until they were leaning on each other.

Before long, Shinobu heard Mitsuri’s breathing change and realized that the other girl had gone quiet.

“Missed sleep finally caught up to you, did it?” Shinobu whispered fondly.

She pulled Mitsuri further into herself and she snuggled in. Shinobu paused the movie, having a feeling that Mitsuri would want to finish it later, and turned on a show she would usually watch herself while playing idly with Mitsuri’s hair.

She’d never admit it, but maybe, just maybe, there was something to all that soulmate business because it felt like she had waited a lifetime to hold her like this without another care in the world.