#the scrunchy face she does when she is sincerely happy

[fallowtail]

them <3

[artificialqueens]

Summer Lovin'  8/? (Multiship) - Pinkgrapefruit

Chapters 1-7 rewritten on AO3

[ day six. a sense of impending chaos ]

“Shit,” Katya whispers under her breath, and Brooke elbows her halfheartedly, eyes fixated on the woman walking through the Villa like she owns it. God knows she could.

Michelle claps and everyone sits up straighter. “Come along girls,” she tells them with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

*

A/N - look. it’s been a while. i’d apologise but i don’t want to. in quick rundown of the last four months - global pandemic, ocd, chronic joint pain, alevel maths. all caught up? let’s do this! let me know what you all think (and who you think will turn up next!)

[lesbian love island]

*

Katya is the first one out of bed, rolling out from under the covers she shares with Scarlet and stretching her arms up when her feet hit the ground. She does one energetic lap in front of all the beds before heading outside, leaving twelve sleepy women in her wake.

She ties her hair into a messy bun using the red velvet scrunchie she keeps on her water bottle and spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to volley bread into the toaster before giving up and filling the two six-slicers with bread for anyone who wants it. She sets the tea kettle up full and then starts to work on the french press for all the coffee drinkers. Switching the oven onto low heat, she sticks as many ceramic mugs in there as she can fit and calmly leans against the counter watching as people funnel out into the garden.

She sets up mugs of coffee with cream, green tea, honey and lemon, and a couple of standard mugs of tea with a smile.

*

“I like to be helpful. It’s my love language or whatever - acts of service.”

*

Katya drops a coffee and a cup of honey and lemon off with A’keria and Silky in the dressing room. They seem tense, but they’re still passing hair tools between themselves with ease.

“I want to do it,” A’keria mutters under her breath as she combs through her eyebrows, eyes never leaving the mirror. Silky pauses in sipping her coffee.

“That’s why it hurts,” she eventually states; it’s cold at first but if you really listen, you can hear the fragility in her tone. A’keria finally looks up and sighs.

“I know. But you’re my best friend. Can you just be happy for me? Please?”

Silky takes another sip of her drink, but she doesn’t answer.

*

“It’s really hard, ‘cause as much as I love Silk and want her to stay, I also have to do what’s best for me, and I think that’s Yvie.”

*

Willam and Courtney remain in the beds, Willam laying with her head on a pillow, Courtney’s head in her lap, fingers playing with Willam’s own. They’re engrossed in quiet conversation, but unlike Silky and A’keria’s, it’s positive and happy. They’re downright adorable, Katya thinks, as she delivers a green tea for Courtney and a black coffee for Willam. They take them gratefully, Courtney making grabby hands as Katya approaches.

“Thanks, hun,” calls Willam after she takes a sip, and Katya just rolls her eyes at her friend, smiling.

*

Brooke sits on a daybed with her legs spread, Vanessa sits in between them as Brooke methodically braids her hair into two dutch braids.

“Delivery of coffee and green tea for my favourite couple,” Katya announces with a smirk as she watches the scene in front of her. It’s vastly different from the past two days, but she’s glad Vanessa finally let Brooke within two feet of her again - the brunette forcing her lover to sleep on the daybed for two nights after their fight.

“Oh, thank Mary, Joseph, and Jesus,” Vanessa shrieks, “Brookie’s so cranky on a mornin’.”

“Brookie?” Katya mouths at Brooke as Vanessa sips her tea.

“Shut up,” Brooke mouths back, although by the monkey dancing Katya does behind them, the blonde should be worried.

“Thank ya, Kat!”

*

“So I’ve decided to forgive miss Brooke Lynn for being an emotionally stunted engineer and let her back into my bed, because, despite her problems, I do quite like her. Now, if she’ll stop being a jealous hoe - we’ll be fine.”

*

Asia and Nina receive green teas as they sit in their usual spot and look over the Spanish valleys surrounding the Villa.

“Does it bother you that we haven’t kissed?” Nina asks, somewhat hiding behind the mug - eyes reflecting back a raw vulnerability. Asia smiles, bumping their shoulders.

“God, no,” she murmurs, lips still on the rim of the mug. “I like you. I can do this at your pace.” Nina closes her eyes slowly, savouring it. “Plus, I knew your kiss from the line up.” She winks, and Nina snorts out green tea - thrashing one arm in Asia’s direction for making a quip while she had a mouthful.

“I hate you,” she croaks, still swiping droplets of tea from her upper lip.

“Sure,” Asia responds with a grin.

*

Yvie hand delivers Scarlet a smoothie as the latter is sat on the edge of the pool, playing noughts and crosses on a rock with Bianca. They’re passing a bent hair pin between themselves as Bianca sips at the black coffee delivered by Katya earlier. The sun is warm on their skin, but Scarlet is still wrapped in a chunky knit cardigan that looks about three sizes too big for her. She looks cosy.

Yvie thinks it’s cute.

She turns back around to see Scarlet with the metal straw in her mouth, whining at Bianca’s inevitable win. The older woman softens slightly at Scarlet’s dejected pout, but she maintains her snarky bragging just to watch Scarlet squirm.

*

Alaska is leaning her forearms on the counter-top as she watches Yvie make scrambled eggs. She took the taller girl up on her offer of food immediately and doesn’t regret it as her portion is scraped on top of her toast. She bites into it and sighs. It’s warm and good.

“You’re a better kitchen mate than Kiki,” Yvie quips, biting into her own toast after scraping it through the ketchup.

“I don’t think that’s hard,” Alaska volleys back once she’s swallowed. “I’ve watched her think she’s burned water.”

Yvie cackles at Alaska’s anecdote, and the messy blonde wonders what could have happened if she’d met this Yvie on the date. Yvie with less walls. Yvie in a blue crocheted bikini top and a pair of grey basketball shorts.

She smiles and her eyes twinkle. What if…

*

Katya’s phone buzzes from her back pocket and she stands up, waving her free arm wildly. “I got a text!” She screams, and everyone turns to face her. She looks a little winded from the excitement, but everyone else’s faces hold trepidation.

“Islanders,

Tonight there will be a recoupling. Asia and Yvie will go first. The girl not picked to be in a couple will be dumped from the Iisland. Choose wisely.

#getpickedorgetpacking”

*

“I’m fucked, ain’t I? Kiki’s gone and found herself another lover and I’m stuck. Shit.”

*

Yvie collapses onto the daybed and allows A’keria to lean into her, their lips meeting briefly, more for comfort than passion.

“I’d pick you,” A’keria tells her, swallowing hard as she tears her eyes away from Silky by the pool. “If it was up to me, I’d pick you.”

Yvie draws patterns on the bed sheet next to her, fingers twirling in the fabric as she considers the other woman’s words. They don’t change her choice, but they change the way she sees it. She feels less selfish picking A’keria with her expressed consent - knowing it will most likely cost Silky a place.

“Okay,” she responds, hand running over her buzzed hair. Her voice is measured. “Okay, let’s do this.”

She jumps up off the daybed onto the wooden decking, pulling A’keria up with her until they’re holding hands and jumping, just to keep their restlessness at bay.

“What the fuck are you doing?” calls Willam from the other daybed, and A’keria just giggles.

“Who the fuck knows?”

*

Vanessa walks into the bedroom to find Brooke napping on their bed. She stares at the blonde, the way her legs are lean and muscular and her stomach toned… Vanessa shakes her head to snap herself out of it, but walks towards the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Brooke must feel the way it dips under Vanessa’s weight and sleepily sits up, back leant against the headrest.

She pats her legs gingerly, and Vanessa leans back so her head is cradled in Brooke’s lap. She hums in contentment before looking up at her with a scowl. “I’m still mad,.” She tells her pointedly, and Brooke just shrugs tiredly.

“Okay, honey,” she tells her, and it makes Vanessa scowl even more - she still ends up smiling though as Brooke combs through her hair with her fingers.

“I’m really sorry,” Brooke adds, tentative. “I know I need to work on communication.”

Vanessa grumbles to herself, but her eyes twinkle. “I know I coulda been better too,” she admits, eyes closing in response to the ministrations on her scalp.

“We have time,” Brooke tells her. “We have time.”

*

“She’s got work to do. But I’m okay with her. She doesn’t need to know that, but I am.”

*

Silky approaches Asia, wringing her hands in front of her. Asia waves her over, patting the hot marble next to her and then pulling a towel onto it when she finds it too hot to touch.

“Hey!” She calls, and Silky falls down next to her, sighing when her legs hit the cold water.

“It’s too hot,” she whines, and Asia just kicks some water at her, splattering it up her leg.

“What’s up?” Asia cuts in, sipping water from her bottle as she gives Silky a once over.

Silky shifts on the towel, biding time by adjusting her swimsuit and fiddling with her glasses until Asia elbows her gently.

“I was wonderin’ how you’d feel ‘bout couplin’ up?”

There’s a strangled snorting sound and it takes Asia a second to realise it came from her. She slaps a hand over her face, and Silky just raises her eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry,” Asia tells her, trying to sound sincere and not at all like she’s just laughed at her, “but I think I’ve got something good going with Nina.”

Silky looks down into the water dejectedly, hands running down her swimsuit.

“I figured,” she says, moving to stand up until Asia grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly.

“I love you, bitch,” Asia tells her sincerely, and Silky gives a weak smile.

“I know.”

*

Nina looks pensive when Asia finds her on the swing seats, but as she sits down next to the girl, she sees a little more. She looks anxious, picking at the edges of her fingers, leg bouncing restlessly. Asia places a hand on her bare thigh to steady her, and it seems to calm the brunette.

“Hey,” she says, soft and calm. Nina looks at her and her eyes seem torn.

“Hey,” she replies, but it lacks the smoothness.

“What’s up?” Asia asks, leading. Nina sighs and rubs a hand on the thigh not covered by Asia’s warm palm.

“I feel guilty,” she states with a huff of breath, “that Silky doesn’t get the chance of staying.” Asia has to hide her chuckle at Nina’s empathy - even though she knows it’s causing her pain.

“Baby,” she tries to assuage, “Silky didn’t find a connection. And, hey, we don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, you cannot feel guilty for your success.”

Nina lets out a steady stream of breath through her nose and rests her head on Asia’s shoulder, the darker haired girl running her hand up and down her leg.

“I know you started together and it sucks. But it’s not your problem.”

“I know,” Nina exhales.

*

“I’m too empathetic. I feel too much. Everything hurts. This is going to hurt. But I want Asia - I want her to choose me.”

*

“How would you feel if I chose you?” Asia asks, cautious, as if trying to approach an easily spooked cat. She smiles, trying to be reassuring, but it comes out as a wince.

Nina rubs a hand up and down Asia’s suncream-tacky arm and rolls her eyes.

“I’d be honoured,” she tells her, mock bowing. “If you want to pick me I would be honoured.” She crawls a little closer and places a kiss on Asia’s cheek causing the usually loud woman to shrink a tad, blushing.

“Sounds like a plan.”

*

“I would pick Nina, yeah. Not like Brooke would let me pick Vanessa a second time - I’m kidding, don’t worry. I have nothing but pure intentions towards Nina.”

*

Brooke walks over to where Vanessa is sat, legs dangling in the pool.

“We’re okay?” She asks tentatively, still unsure as to where she stands after the tumultuous few days they’ve had.

Vanessa smiles quietly - it’s the most peaceful the blonde has seen her - hazel eyes reflecting the serenity of the water. Vanessa interlaces their fingers on the edge of the pool.

“I want us to be okay,” the brunette agrees - nodding slowly. “We’re okay.”

Suddenly and with no warning, Vanessa slides into the pool, pulling Brooke with her. Luckily for production, they’re at the shallow end and both of them can easily stand without their microphones ending up in the water - their swimsuits finally used for a practical purpose. *

Willam and Courtney watch the madness from their daybed, snuggled together like cats in the sun.

“Isn’t it nice,” Courtney poses with her fingers trailing along Willam’s mostly bare skin, “to feel so safe?”

Willam snorts out a laugh, leaning into Courtney’s body heat even in the warm summer afternoon. “They say smug isn’t a good look, but you’re sexy when you’re confident,” she jibes, eyes bright and smiling. There is indeed a sense of security to their coupling. No one is going to try and break them - it would be madness.

Courtney flutters her eyes and leans down, catching the blondes lips in a comfortable kiss. When Willam breaks it, she leans back and smiles softly.

“You don’t know how nice it is to be able to do that,” she whispers softly, intertwining their fingers.

“We should get ready. There’s a sense of impending chaos,” Courtney voices reasonably, and Willam scowls. The blonde tries to leave the bed, but she is tackled onto the covers, and they end up making out until Katya wolf whistles at them, Courtney dragging Willam by the straps of her one piece into the Villa.

*

They get ready in tense silence - intermittent chatter coming and going as they choose what to wear and how big to curl their hair. Alaska holds up Nina’s options, so she can pick, and A’keria brushes Vanessa’s hair.

*

“I’m terrified. What’s gonna happen? Who the fuck knows.”

*

They girls all sit around, sipping champagne in the dusk light. They’re dressed up in a way that doesn’t roast them in the mild evening heat.

Above the quiet chatter comes the muffled slamming of a door and then the precise click of heels on a linoleum floor.

Michelle comes through to the turning off heads.

“Shit,” Katya whispers under her breath, and Brooke elbows her halfheartedly, eyes fixated on the woman walking through the Villa like she owns it. God knows she could.

Michelle claps and everyone sits up straighter. “Come along girls,” she tells them with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

*

There’s a dramatic pan out over the fire-pit as everyone sits around it. Michelle stands directly in front of them all, smiling calmly at their anxious faces. I can’t wait for this!

*

“All right, ladies, since this is an all women’s game we’re gonna have to play it a little differently,” Michelle calls out, eyes flicking from the group of nervous women to her cards and back up again. “This is how it’s gonna work. Asia and Yvie, you’re new, so you’re up first. As I call your name, you’ll come and stand next to me and then you’ll pick. Once you’ve coupled up, move to the other side of the firepit and sit with your couple. Sounds good so far?”

There’s a mumbled chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Uhuh’s’ before she continues.

“Willam and Courtney, you’re safe together, so you can move to the other side guys.”

They squeeze each other’s hands and sit down on the less crowded side of the sofa, Willam’s head dropping onto Courtney’s shoulder as the blonde whispers something unintelligible that makes her smile.

“Once we’ve got the newbies done I’m just going to be calling people up from my list.” She waves her card vaguely. “All ready? Let’s do this.”

*

“First up then, Asia.”

Asia stands up, smoothing out the red silk dress and pulling her neatly curled hair over one shoulder as she walks to stand next to Michelle. The older woman gives her a smile and a nod as if to say ‘take it away’.

“I want to couple up with this girl because…” Asia starts with a small smile, although her hands are knotted together in front of her. “Because she’s sweet and kind and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. In the short time I’ve known her, I think we’ve really clicked, and I really can’t wait to watch more sunrises and sunsets with her and a mug of green tea. Also, she’s fucking gorgeous.” This earns chuckles from the rest of the group. Nina smiles at her lap.

“So the girl I want to couple up with, is Nina.”

Everyone whoops and cheers as Nina stands up and walks over to Asia. Her black crop top and white skater skirt complement Asia’s outfit, and they make a striking couple as the dark-haired girl loops her arm around her waist and places a chaste kiss on her cheek. They sit together on the sofa, and Asia visibly relaxes as Nina strokes a finger along her exposed forearm.

“You did great.”

*

“Yvie,” Michelle calls, and the tall woman moves to the front of the sofa, shifting in her heels as she bites the inside of her lip. She’s nervous, disarmed.

“I want to couple up with this girl because I think we’re both here for the same reason. We both want something real that’s not a friendship.” She purposely avoids looking towards A’keria or Silky as she says that. “I’ve got to go with my gut instinct. I came to find a connection and that’s what I’m going to do. So the girl I want to couple up with is�� A’keria.”

The group claps, except Silky who sits scowling until Bianca nudges her hard.

A’keria and Yvie kiss, and A’keria does not look back, face buried in Yvie’s shoulder.

*

Next up is Vanessa. She was originally coupled up with Brooke, but caught Asia’s eye causing her to be sleeping alone for two nights. It’s a difficult choice… What will she do?

*

“Alright, Vanessa.”

As Vanessa stands next to Michelle, she scans the remaining girls. She’s not really mad anymore, just a little regretful maybe. She’s lost two nights of cuddles and she wants to take that back. She pulls her high waisted shorts up a little higher before she starts to talk.

“So, I wanna couple up with this girl because I feel like we have a real and genuine connection. Um,” she shifts on her feet, looking Brooke dead in the eyes, “she has me in hysterics twenty-four-seven and I’ve missed cuddles more than she knows, which are two things I really want in a girl. I’m excited to see how things progress in the future. So the girl I would like to couple up with is-”

“-Miss Brooke Lynn, come here, boo.”

*

Okay, Alaska’s up next. She has an agreement with Katya, but will she stick to it?

*

Alaska struts up, legs bowing, and examines the four girls. She’s not really making a choice, but she feels like she should probably at least look like she’s a bit torn. She squints and clears her throat, hands twisted together in front of her.

“I want to couple up with this girl because I feel she’s a valued member of ths group, she’s really cherished by blessing us with her pearls of wisdom in times of need and-” she lets out a big exhale. “I just feel like she’s really loved in our group. So the girl I want to couple up with is… Katya.”

Kaya mocks letting out a huge breath and moves forward to hug the taller girl, leaving a big, red lipstick kiss on her cheek. Alaska rolls her eyes and smiles as Michelle calls Bianca up.

*

Finally, Bianca gets to choose. Will she pick her history with Scarlet or a clean slate with Silky?

*

Bianca sighs, eyebrows furrowed as she flits between the two girls left. She figured it would get to this - it’s not surprising to her, nor anyone left in the Villa, but she still wishes it wasn’t her choice to make.

“I am choosing this girl,” she starts hesitantly, “because she makes me seem quiet. She’s loud, fun, and she’s got a charming personality. Not to mention she’s not bad on the eyes. I want to give her more of a chance in this Villa even if we’re not a match. So, the girl I want to couple up with is…” She looks at them both again and realises what she’s saying stands for both of them.

She has to tear her eyes away as she makes her choice.

“Scarlet.”

*

“Alright, Ladies,” calls Michelle, still smiling even as tears fall from a couple of girls’ eyes. “Silky, you have been dumped from the Island, you have thirty minutes to pack up and say your goodbyes.”

Michelle stalks out of the Villa in much the same way she walked in, and it’s just as unsettling to watch her leave. It’s like the rest of the Villa is stuck on pause until suddenly everyone crowds Silky.

A’keria detaches herself from Yvie’s arm and runs in her heels, barrelling towards the bigger girl until they’re locked in an embrace.

“I hope I didn’t ruin our friendship,” she whispers, and Silky chuckles wetly.

“You didn’t,” she replies and she turns to Vanessa, hugging her too. They all follow her through the Villa, helping her pack, and eventually walking her to the door where she is hugged by everyone once again. She waves at the crowd of women and walks out.

*

“I didn’t find what I wanted here, but, hey. There’s gotta be someone who’ll love all of me. And I can’t wait to find them. I’m coming for you, lesbians!”

*

The Villa is quiet as they get ready for bed, sliding into their new and old couples easily.

Brooke and Vanessa relish in their newfound solidity and pull the duvet over their heads before the lights even go out. Willam and Courtney have just enough decorum to wait.

Alaska and Katya, and Bianca and Scarlet, settle in as friendship couples, though it doesn’t stop Katya’s need to spoon anything and everything warm.

Nt Asia and Nina fall asleep either side of the invisible wall Asia’s set up for Nina’s comfort, although a hand reaches through it at some point, Nina’s palm on Asia’s hip.

A’keria and Yvie waste no time.

*

NEXT TIME:

TWO NEW GIRLS CAUSE TROUBLE.

[intobarbarians]

part nineteen to this

His spirit awareness needs to get its shit together: either he knows when Hiei is near or he doesn’t. Lately, he prefers it to be the latter.

‘Please’ isn’t in Hiei’s personal dictionary, so Kuwabara won’t hold his breath waiting for him to politely request a ride home.

He tucks the basket he’s carrying under his arm and summons the spirit sword. So far he’s found his old house key and the scrunchie that fell out of Yukina’s hair after they went to Mitarai’s cello concert last summer. Mr. Stuffingsworth is way better at hide and seek than he remembers.

Kuwabara lifts the sword and slices a tear between dimensions. The stadium sits proudly on the other side. Did Kurama face Mukuro in the finals? Mukuro’s undoubtedly stronger, but he can’t bring himself to bet against Kurama.

He resumes his search for Mr. Stuffingsworth. Hiei’s been giving him the silent treatment since he overheard Kuwabara pour his heart out to the Violet Queen--not that he minds, because there’s a tiny part of him that never wants to see Hiei again. Ever.

He likes that part. That part and him get along fine. It’s the rest of himself Kuwabara doesn’t know what to do with.

He expects Hiei to silently return to Makai--emphasis on silently.

Because he’s a bastard, Hiei doesn’t. From his perch in the shadows, he calls out, “Leaving so soon?”

Kuwabara starts digging through the cat toys. Eikichi will get more use out of them than Hatori will. “It’s for you.” Under his breath, he adds, “--asshole.”

“I don’t recall asking you to open a portal.”

“You didn’t have to! Because I’m nice and considerate like that.” And because Kuwabara can’t wait for him to be gone.

“Then you’ve wasted your energy for nothing.” Hiei jumps down beside Kuwabara. He kicks a plastic, copper ball with a bell inside. “I’ve decided to stick around, at least until this place stops being amusing.”

Kuwabara counts to ten. “You hate it here.”

“Do I?” Hiei drawls. “Please inform me of my own feelings on the matter in more detail.”

“It’s filled with human stuff.” Kuwabara sweeps his hand in a wide arc, gesturing at everything. “You hate human stuff.” Ergo, he hates this whole fucking place and wants to leave, but because he’s a contrarian dickhead, he’s decided that fucking with Kuwabara is more worth his time.

Hiei picks up a stick with a feather tied to the end of a string. He dangles it like a fisherman’s rod and says, “One does not often have a chance to meet one’s creator.”

It might be a persuasive argument from literally anyone else. Hiei rankles at authority like a perpetual twelve year old. What does he care about a goddess, even one that made the first demon? “You think she’s going to grant you the secrets of the universe?”

“Not me,” Hiei says quietly. “Mukuro.”

Ah. Kuwabara forgets that Hiei’s in love, or as close to it as someone like him can be. “She can come and ask herself, if she wants.” He’s happy to bring her across dimensions. She can share more stories, and they’ll discover which ones are true.

“How very accommodating you are.” He doesn’t sound particularly sincere.

Which reminds Kuwabara. “More accommodating than lying to my sister for years about being her brother.” He shakes a little, blue ball. Eikichi doesn’t care much for toys filled with beads.

Hiei tosses the stick away. “I knew you’d be like this,” he accuses. “Kurama and Yusuke have their fun, but they have just enough common sense to not push me too far.”

“Actually, they’re just assholes in their own way.” Kurama is lying to his family about who he is and Yusuke does whatever he fucking feels like doing, no matter how much it hurts the people who love him. They see themselves in Hiei’s decision to deceive Yukina, and they respect it. Kuwabara doesn’t and can’t. “Deep down, they both know they don’t have any right to tell you to be better than they are.” He loves them but it’s true.

“Ah, so Kurama and Yusuke aren’t perfect in your eyes.” Hiei’s smile is vicious. “Do we three not live up to your ideals? You mustn’t judge us so harshly, since it’s virtually impossible to meet such standards.”

Kuwabara throws the little, blue ball at Hiei’s face. He grabs another cat toy without looking and throws it, too, and then another and another. Each throw gets a little meaner. “You are the most judgmental out of all four of us!” he cries. “You want to talk about who doesn’t live up to whose standards? You have to be bribed into saving the world!” Kuwabara aims a cotton mouse straight at Hiei’s jagan. “Kurama’s mom got married and you couldn’t be bothered to so much as send a postcard! Yusuke opened a ramen cart six months ago, and I bet he’s told you a dozen times and yet somehow you can’t make the time to eat there even once!” He’s just throwing whatever he can get his hands on. It doesn’t matter that Hiei dodges every projectile effortlessly. Kuwabara’s a little scared he might resort to his fists if the anger doesn’t burn away soon. “Yukina won an e-sports tournament, and no, I will not fucking explain to you what an e-sports tournament is because you can fucking ask your sister yourself, you selfish prick.”

He’s out of breath but he’s not done trying to hurt Hiei, so he says, “I don’t know what Mukuro sees in you. It’s only a matter of time before you abandon her like you do everything else.”

Hiei recoils, and it is so deeply, deliciously satisfying that Kuwabara sees why he enjoys the cruel insults he’s dispensed so casually over the years.

It makes Kuwabara sick to his stomach. Nothing good has come from his feelings for Hiei. Not once.

He should apologize. He can mean it, even.

No words come out.

“Do you want me to go?”

Want? He wants--

He shakes his head once.

“Then I will stay.”

Kuwabara goes back to digging through the cat toys. The portal closes on its own, unused.

[wordsablaze]

Thieves In A Pod

(tlcsw pt.3) It started with Kai's hoodie going missing for the first time and ended with Cinder's heart being stolen for the millionth time, written for prompt 'kaider thieves' in tlc ship weeks 2019!

A/N: Two days late isn’t bad, success! Slight cheese overload, not even sorry ;)

Despite Thorne being the one who literally went behind bars on multiple occasions for stealing, Cinder’s the one who apparently can’t help herself from committing random acts of theft.

Kai hadn’t even realised it was her at first, he’d just blamed himself for becoming careless and forgetting where he’d kept things. But then his favourite hoodie - really the only one he owns because he rarely gets a chance to wear them so what’s the point of having more - had mysteriously disappeared and he’d been forced to reconsider his conclusions.

There are only two people who know where he keeps it, himself included, so, when he opens his wardrobe to try and find it for film night and finds its spot empty, he knows who’s taken it.

Which is why he says nothing to Cinder during film night, and nor does she comment on it despite giving him several glances that imply she’s waiting for him to comment on it, but instead resolves to give her a taste of her own medicine.

He’s well aware that Torin would call it childish and question his sanity if he found out but that doesn’t stop him in the slightest.

Over the next fortnight before their next routine film night, he randomly steals countless little nuts and bolts, two spanners, a glue gun, five screwdrivers of varying sizes, and the hair scrunchie she wears the most.

It’s obvious that she notices because she keeps glaring at her desk as if things will magically reappear and her hair is down a lot more than usual, but she says nothing to him directly, which only gives him an excuse to carry on and be amused by the whole situation.

He justifies this with the way she keeps stealing his pens and the pile of post-it notes she knows he’d grown attached to, as well a shirt and a couple of the bracelets he’d been given by Thorne, not to mention the hoodie she refuses to return.

When they’re with each other, which just so happens to be quite a lot since they’re married, they act as if they don’t know anything, even though they’re both smart enough to have figured out one another’s motives and guessed the other’s plans. More often than not, they share knowing looks, but they don’t act on it, as if it’s an unspoken agreement to just let things unfold.

Naturally, like most things in life, their game doesn’t last forever.

Kai is reading through his list of film titles their friends had recommended to them when Cinder marches into the room, declaring her presence with a pointed cough.

“You’re just in time,” Kai says without turning around, then looks up and blinks; Cinder’s wearing his missing - stolen - hoodie.

“You,” she says with an eyebrow raised, “are quite the law-breaker for someone who literally makes them.”

Kai offers her a smirk. “You’re no better for someone who technically has a share in making those laws.”

Considering this, Cinder shrugs and flops down on the sofa next to him, softly hitting him with the sleeve of his own hoodie. “I need my stuff back, do you know how hard it is to fix things without tools?”

“Do you know how hard it is to write reports without pens?” Kai fires back, but there’s no venom in his voice, just teasing.

Cinder smiles at that, shaking her head. “I can’t say I do, your Majesty.”

Kai’s nose scrunches up as he makes a face and lets out something akin to a groan. “You really don’t need to call me that.”

Laughing, Cinder just leans on Kai’s shoulder as she glances at the notebook page filled with unnecessarily neat names, taking a moment to just gaze at how beautiful his writing his before actually paying attention and quickly figuring out a pattern in the films.

“Why are these all to do with thefts?” she asks.

Kai blinks, glances at her, looks back to the list, and then chuckles quietly. “I guess we haven’t been as subtle as we’d thought.”

Even Cinder laughs then, a sheepish smile blooming on her face. “It’s probably best, I don’t know how much longer I could have found a place to keep your pens without losing them.”

“Cinder, I love you, but you’d better not have lost my pens or I might just wage war.”

“Would you really risk fighting me and ruining your hoodie?” she asks innocently, pulling a pen out from her pocket and crossing a few options off.

Kai mock-frowns. “This is meant to be a democratic evening.”

Cinder snorts and crosses off another one when he doesn’t stop her. “This is me taking up that offer of making laws.”

“Those laws are meant to be for the country, not film night,” Kai argues, but he doesn’t exactly complain when she discards all their options sans one, the only one that doesn’t have a plot directly related to catching a criminal.

After a moment of silence, Cinder sits up properly and crosses her legs, turning to face him with a smile. “Pen for your thoughts?” She asks, twirling his pen in her hand.

Kai can’t help but laugh, taking his pen from her and speedily inspecting it to make sure it’s not broken before leaning forward and kissing her cheek. “My deepest gratitude, your Majesty.”

“Kai!” Cinder rolls her eyes. “Did you really think I’d let your pens get broken?”

He pauses, considering only for a brief moment before shaking his head at her. “I’d trust you with my pen collection any day.”

Cinder actually blushes.

Not only is that a little disconcerting because it's only newly become an option for her due to her scientifically unexpected and highly successful campaign to make young cyborgs feel less alien and more socially acceptable, but she's just not usually one to blush.

Despite both of those things, she finds that can’t help it, there’s something endearing about the way he says that, as if there’s not even the faintest margin of doubt in his mind. And they both know he’s unusually protective over his pens so it’s all but an honour to be trusted with them.

“I love you too,” Cinder whispers, not knowing if she wants him to hear that or not. He does, and the sparkle in his eye confirms that she did indeed want that.

Kai puts an arm around her as the film starts playing and she smiles to herself, wondering what her old self would say if she’d been told that she’d one day feel happiness from knowing how someone loves her enough to commit crimes with her.

If her friends could see her now, they’d say that the two of them look like peas in a pod, but that term has always confused her and now she’s content to say that she and Kai are akin to thieves in a pod instead. She’s also embarrassed to realise she literally says that out loud when Kai chuckles at her, taking her hand and gently kissing her knuckles.

“More like thieves on a sofa, love,” he murmurs.

Cinder disregards maturity and sticks her tongue out at him.

“We might be in a pod someday,” she says after a second, “and we’re already halfway there by being thieves.”

“You’ve been halfway there since the day we met and you practically stole my heart in an instant.” Kai’s words are sincere and elicit yet another blush from Cinder, who has to bite her cheek to stop her grin from exploding outward and making her look crazy.

She wants to say something equally as adorable or witty back but she’s never been the best with words so she just tightens her grip on Kai and pulls him closer, combining their personal spaces into one smaller bubble of love.

It’s a funny world, she realises yet again, but if marriage and mostly harmless theft have taught her anything, it’s that there can be no better partner in crime than your partner in life.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

[artificialqueens]

malamente part 6 (branjie) - evan

Lovely art by @youre-a-kite!! The talent!! I am so grateful for this!

AN: Well. It’s been a month since part 5, and I’ve been slowly chipping away at this chapter until it finally came together. I’m really happy with it, though, and I hope it’s worth the wait ;) all my love to @artificialmeggie for betaing, and to my darling avengers.

–

Brooke’s not sure when she grabbed Vanessa’s hand. Maybe it was to still her fingers drumming against the table as she spoke, so cautious and slow. Whenever it was, now Brooke’s slowly tracing the tendons with her thumb, trying to fill a silence that’s already too heavy with apprehension.

“So. That’s me.” Vanessa’s cards are on the table. She bites her lip.

“So it’s…” Brooke doesn’t have the words yet. She hesitates, hoping Vanessa might jump in with an answer. She doesn’t, and maybe she’s just as hungry for a concise word as Brooke is. “It’s magic?” Brooke manages finally.

“I guess. I don’t really know if there’s rules or names or shit like that. There’s things I can do that other people can’t, and I don’t know much other than that. I’m winging it, mostly.”

Brooke is processing, and she knows her face shows it.

“You’re freaked out,” Vanessa says.

“No, I’m not—”

“Bitch, I knocked your best friend unconscious, you can be freaked out.”

“Okay, fine, I’m a little… I’m getting used to it.” Freaked out means skittish. Freaked out means running away. Brooke is neither. It’s nothing weirder than anything else that’s happened in the past 24 hours, and this answer almost feels like a comfort, a touchpoint, however foreign it is.

Vanessa rolls her eyes, clicks her tongue. “I don’t tell most people. Or anyone, really.” The corner of Vanessa’s mouth turns up just a little, almost imperceptibly. “But we’re really in this together now, there’s a damn body in your garden, so you better catch up quick.”

Brooke can’t help but smile.

“What does it feel like?” Brooke asks.

“It feels like…” Vanessa’s hand has been still in Brooke’s ever since she grabbed it, but now she squeezes back, and runs a finger slowly up and down the inside of Brooke’s palm as she thinks. “I don’t know, it’s like I’m holding something that isn’t actually there, but it is. And it’s not like a solid thing, so I gotta be careful? If that makes sense?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.” Vanessa lifts her free hand and brushes a blonde curl from where it’s fallen over Brooke’s eye. She touches lightly on the spot where Brooke’s bruise should be, and something throws itself together in Brooke’s chest. Something pops into place, a joint in a socket, the last puzzle piece.

“Not the little stuff,” Vanessa continues, and her touch tingles like menthol. “Not like this. The bigger stuff, the scary shit, like with Nina… that doesn’t feel so good.”

Vanessa looks at her long and warm and she’s so overwhelmingly there. But before Brooke can step over her last rational thought and topple right over into her, there’s a voice from the hallway.

“I’ll say.”

It’s Nina. She’s got her shoulders squared, wearing the same stern, solid expression she typically reserved for terse interactions with Jason or talking back to her daughter’s soccer coach after a rough game. And Brooke could almost be scared of her if she wasn’t clutching the pillow Brooke had placed under her head to her chest like it’s a life raft.

“I hate to interrupt. But would one of you kindly explain why I just woke up in the back seat of my own car?”

“Nina.” Brooke stands cautiously. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

Nina doesn’t get angry. It’s a rare sight, one Brooke hardly knows how to handle. She’s a quiet kind of furious, all distant and shut down and unreadable. As long as Brooke has known her, she’s only seen Nina this upset when her husband forgot to pick up Millie from tennis the one day he was responsible for her. Nina fumed for a week before she finally came around.

(From Nina, Brooke will accept forgiveness on any timeline.)

Brooke makes Nina an omelette and tells her everything. She’s not creative enough to edit what they did into something prettier, but moreover Brooke knows Nina deserves better than that. She gets the whole truth: the figs, the scotch, the knife, the trash bags, all of it. The only thing she edits out is that kiss in the guest room, mostly for her own sake, though she’s pretty sure Nina already knows. Nina always just knows.

Brooke is surprised as Nina’s face melts into sympathy. Nina nods along, covers her mouth, drums her fingers across her lower lip as she listens.

She doesn’t deserve Nina, has never deserved Nina, but the woman is walking proof that sometimes the universe is kind.

Vanessa decides that they’ll all be better off with a little more juice, so she mixes up some mimosas. And weirdly, it helps Brooke root herself in reality because it’s so casual, just any other brunch she would have with either Nina or Vanessa in her kitchen. Because everything that happened is normal now. It has to be.

“So, we didn’t really mean to involve you, but things just kept getting messier and then… Well, you were freaking out and we had to stop that.” Brooke tries to gloss it, because she knows it’s Vanessa’s story to tell, and she probably couldn’t explain it if she tried. Fortunately, she jumps in.

“I’m kind of a witch, it’s complicated, but I think you might have suffocated or stroked out if I hadn’t knocked you out.” Vanessa chews on her lip. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Nina shakes her head, somehow immediately understanding. “No, no. It’s all still blurry but… I think you saved me. Thank you.”  

Vanessa meets Nina’s deeply sincere eyes with a small, reserved smile. Brooke can tell Nina makes Vanessa nervous, and she’s not quite sure why, but it seems like Vanessa has started treating the moment of stability they’ve wandered into as if it’s fragile like glass.

Brooke wishes she could be as careful as Vanessa. She wishes she knew how to hold back details that might put Nina in more danger than she’s already in, because knowing too much could be just as disastrous as having actual blood on her hands. But the story spills out of Brooke and Nina doesn’t stop her, for better or worse.

“So you’ve been out for two hours. And now we’re here.”

Nina is thinking so loudly that Brooke can almost hear it. Vanessa’s got her arms wrapped around her own body like she knows there are consequences for being too vulnerable (and she’s been so vulnerable, Brooke knows, has been there) and Brooke fights the urge to walk over there and replace them with her own.

“All right,” Nina says finally.

“All right?”

“That all makes sense.”

Vanessa chuckles, a clipped and doubtful sound. “No, it doesn’t.”

“I mean, it’s horrifying, sure, but…” Nina twirls the stem of her mimosa glass in between her fingers and looks directly at Vanessa. “I understand. If I had been in your situation, I could have done the same thing.”

Vanessa looks uneasy and certainly speechless. Nina continues.

“Horrifying things happen every day. Sometimes it’s senseless, but really that’s rare. I think the closer you look, the more people have reasons for the things they do. What you did, both of you, wasn’t senseless. So I understand.”

It has never been more evident to Brooke that Nina knows her better than Brooke knows herself. Nina can sort through the pieces of her world like they’re a sensible map and not a collection of discontinuous fragments that feel sharp in her chest. Maybe it’s a talent, maybe it’s kindness, maybe it’s love.

Nina takes Vanessa’s hand, probably just because it’s close, and holds it. Vanessa gives her a tight-lipped smile, one that Nina is probably perceptive enough to recognize is composed of a cocktail of fear and gratitude and deep-seated doubt.

Brooke sits in it, lets it settle, lets two disparate parts of the hurricane of her life solidify and become achingly real.

After a minute Vanessa escapes to the bathroom, wringing her hair through her hands, and Nina turns to look at Brooke with an expression that’s too familiar: I know you’re pretty broken and I wish I had an assembly manual, only she never needs to really say it. There’s something different, though, maybe just a little bit of hope.

“I’m going to buy you a new car,” Brooke says. “A Mercedes, a Ferrari, whatever you want.”

“You can’t buy my loyalty, Brooke. This is all authentic.” Nina stacks her plate on Vanessa’s, piles their silverware on top. “But yes, a Mercedes might be nice.”

Brooke comes up behind the bar stool that Nina is seated on, wraps her arms around Nina’s shoulders, and buries her forehead against her neck. Nina has held her countless times when she needed to get away from Jason, when she needed some kind of respite or reminder that maybe this wasn’t the way that things were supposed to be. This time, as she squeezes tight around Nina’s shoulders, it’s for both of them. She’s clinging to Nina like a life raft and working to keep her intact all the same.

“Is she going to be all right?” Nina asks, and then quickly shakes her head. “That’s a ridiculous question, considering the circumstances, but you know what I mean.”

“She’s pretty strong,” Brooke says, something unidentifiable twisting in her throat.

“I like her.” Nina touches Brooke’s forearm lightly.

“You do?”

“She’s a real person. And maybe I only have evidence contrary to this, but I think she might be good for you.”

Brooke laughs and smiles into Nina’s shirt. Because yeah, maybe.

When Vanessa marches back in, she’s got her hair tied up in a ponytail (with one of Brooke’s scrunchies, but she’ll process that later) and a face so serious that Brooke almost doesn’t realize the redness around her eyes.

“I’ve got a plan. And it’s not a great plan, but I’ve got a plan, and I think it’s about time we leap back into action.”

–

Vanessa takes a Tide stick to Nina’s dress before Brooke calls her a car.

It’s been about three years since Nina’s been in a stage production. Most recently, she played Miss Hannigan in that community theater production of Annie, and she brought in freshly baked cookies for the kids playing the orphans every night just to remind them it was all an act. She promised a lot of them she’d come back for a different show in the next season, but it never materialized. The symphony fundraising picked up dramatically, and Millie started taking tennis lessons over an hour away, so Nina took a more-than-brief hiatus from the stage. She hated it. Hates it, still.

All this to say, Nina’s ready to put on a show.

She smears her makeup, breaks one of her heels against the sidewalk, and marches into the police station.

(She digs up real tears for it. She cries for Brooke, who seems to have broken, but is reassembling the pieces of herself into something fragmented but new and promising. She cries for Vanessa, who she barely knows but seems to carry more trauma and passion than is humanly possible in her small body. She cries for herself, taps into the confusion and disorientation of this whole day that she tried to push down in front of Brooke so she could hear her out. She cries because loving your friends is complicated and doesn’t make sense, but she’d never consider for a second doing anything else. Maybe it’s steering a bit away from the character she’s trying to play. But that character is crying because her family could have been in danger, and honestly, it’s the same thing.)

Not only is Nina an actress, but she is also incredibly perceptive. She knows how to read the energy of an audience and give them what they want. These cops are too easy. They’re buying every second of it, taking detailed notes, handing her tissue after tissue which she graciously uses.

A carjacking. A young, white man, dark curly hair, shorter than her. A Best Buy employee name tag that said “Victor.” Vanessa even showed her pictures of him on her phone so Nina would really know what she was talking about.

The officers take notes. They nod sympathetically. She hands them her business card in case they have any further questions, and makes sure it’s the one with her husband’s company on it, the one with gold lettering that smells like juniper. They give her a ride back home, and as she catches her reflection in the rear view mirror, she tries not to look too self-satisfied.

In the end, Brooke doesn’t really need to buy her a new car. It’s covered by her husband’s auto plan. But perhaps she pockets the insurance money without him knowing, perhaps she lets Brooke buy her a car and feel like she’s paying her back in increments, and perhaps she books a solo spa retreat for a weekend in March.

And if it means that for a couple of days she gets to pick up the kids from school in Jon’s Porsche convertible that hasn’t been driven in years, so be it. Nina’s not complaining.

–

Once Nina is gone, Brooke walks out into the street in front of her house to double check that no one can see the car from the street. She’s fortunate. The shrubs are high enough that even when the gate opens, Nina’s car is completely hidden.

It’s not the best strategy, but it’ll have to do for now. If she had been able to think more clearly, maybe Brooke would have had the mind to put the body in the driver’s seat, throw the car in neutral, and push it off a cliff outside of town. That would have been dramatic, and exciting, and probably would have made her feel more like a real murderer.

This way is probably better, though. This way is quiet.

Jason’s sister got his hideous yellow Tesla in the will (and thank god) which means they could even roll it up into the garage, cover it with a tarp, and forget about it, and still have plenty of space for Brooke’s car–

Her car, which is still parked next to Vanessa’s apartment. Okay.

Just as it felt like the day was about to stop spinning, there’s another loose end. She wonders if this will ever stop, or if it’s just going to be all about playing catch up with this chaos from now on. She breathes and heads back in.

“I have to go get my car,” Brooke says to Vanessa, who is scrubbing dishes in the kitchen. Brooke searches through the detritus on the counter for her car keys. “Do you want to come with me?”

Vanessa’s hands still; the glass is clear of suds but the water is still running. Brooke reaches over her to shut off the tap.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and the room is too quiet.

“No, you’re right, I should probably go back.“

That isn’t what Brooke meant, and it’s definitely not what she wants. As they sort through the wreckage of the day, the real world seems to be catching up to them little by little. The real world, the normal world, which doesn’t revolve around them together at its center.

(Brooke is maybe starting to forget the contours of a world like that. It gets a little fuzzier every time Vanessa’s fingers brush her temple and she tells her – no, shows her – that everything is going to be okay.)

“No, no, stay here. You can, um…” Brooke fishes for a reason for her to stay behind that is relatively sensible, comes up a bit short. “You can burn the clothes. Or scrub the blood out of the driveway.”

“Glamorous.” Vanessa smiles like she’s trying to hold it back, and Brooke knows they’re on the same page. Vanessa’s hand is in hers and she’s not quite sure how it got there but she gives it a tight squeeze, only letting it slip with the knowledge that she’ll get to hold it again soon.

Brooke shows her how to work the fireplace in the backyard, fumbles with it a little as she and Jason never really hosted the outdoor cookouts she had dreamed of when they first bought the house.

She calls herself a car and says goodbye to Vanessa. It’s the first time they’ll be apart since the world hopped off the rails and started careening into god knows where. Brooke knows it shouldn’t feel scary, but it does. She’s not sure whether she should touch Vanessa, hug her, kiss her; the air hangs heavy with that unanswered question, another loose end.

Vanessa cuts the tension. “Go on. Maybe I’ll roast some smores while you’re gone.” She reaches out, touches Brooke’s elbow lightly, sends a shock that reverberates down to her fingertips.

“Hey!” She knows what that is now, knows it’s intentional, and she holds her hand over the spot as if to keep the magic from escaping.

“What?” Vanessa feigns innocence, a bit of a laugh behind her eyes. Brooke’s heart jumps, and she feels approximately sixteen.

She leaves with a smile and a little bit more stardust.

As she climbs into the waiting car, she thinks about Vanessa alone in her home, roasting marshmallows in her backyard, potentially burning the place down. It wouldn’t matter. She’d buy a new house, one without so many dark memories and a little bit more sunlight and no bodies in the backyard. She could move with Vanessa to the other side of the country, where they could start over, maybe.

And shit, that’s too fast. She shouldn’t think that way, but if her heart has brakes, she doesn’t know where to find them and nothing is out of the question now. She’s speeding full force into an open mess of possibility, equal parts horrifying and promising, one hundred percent unpredictable.

Weirdly, she wouldn’t trade it.

The driver is listening to Don’t Stop by Fleetwood Mac. It’s a little on the nose, sure, but she asks him to turn it up anyway.

–

Vanessa’s place in the daylight is jarringly charming. She lives on a residential street; there are people pushing babies in strollers and walking golden retrievers and there’s light filtering in through the gaps in the leaves on the trees. She’d only ever been around to drop Vanessa off at night, when the dread of going back overpowered any other perception of the neighborhood.

They left the door unlocked. For a second she worries, but nothing is missing, at least none of the things Vanessa had thrown into bags and left in a pile by the door. She scoops them over her shoulder, a little bit awkward, but manageable to maneuver down the stairs.

The kitchen still smells like lavender. She doesn’t linger.

Brooke leaves so quickly that she almost bulldozes over the caramel-haired woman who is waiting just outside the screen door.

“You’re not Vanessa,” the woman observes.

This is probably a cop. That’s what the nerves clawing in her chest are telling her. This is an impeccably disguised plainclothes officer dressed in athleisure with a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Brooke’s made it this far, though, and not even a nightmare scenario panic fantasy is going to stop her now. She sets her shoulders, imperceptibly clenches her jaw.

“No, I’m not,” she answers simply.

“Okay, so are you just stealing her things?”

“No. She told me to come get them for her. That’s my car right there.”

“That car was parked here overnight.” The woman narrows her eyes, waits.

Brooke’s stomach lurches, and something feels very wrong. “Mmhm,” is all she gives her.

“Oh my god, you’re so serious! I’m just messing with you.” The woman’s face softens, and Brooke doesn’t believe her for a second. It’s a convincing nosy neighbor routine, Brooke will give her that. “I just came over because I saw you from across the alley, and I liked your shirt. Where did you get it?"

It’s a vertical pink stripe button down that’s still wrinkly from where she picked it off of her floor after stripping off yet another bloody tee for Vanessa to burn.

“Um.” Brooke twists the sleeve between her fingers. “It’s J. Crew.”

“Okay. Well, when her body turns up at least I’ll know how to describe you. Tall blonde J. Crew model, got it.”

Brooke feels like she might puke but she smiles through the bile in her throat. “That’s funny.”

“I’m kidding! Seriously, though, tell her to text me. I’m Scarlet. I get worried about her. You probably know—”

“Yeah,” Brooke interrupts because it’s all she can handle. “I’ll tell her you were here.” She tries to say that last bit like it’s a threat, but she’s not sure it lands. Scarlet’s more than a little hard to read.

“Here, lemme help you.” She takes a duffel bag out of Brooke’s hand before she can protest, and Brooke has to follow her down the stairs.

Scarlet waves at her as she drives away. Brooke feels an ache settle into the back of her neck that pulses with her quickening heart.

–

Alone in the car, Brooke has a good spiral. Ultimately, it’s mappable, even if it feels like an explosion of morbid confetti as she’s experiencing it.

A.   That was a cop. Her name isn’t Scarlet, but Brooke will say that name to Vanessa and Vanessa will look back at her blankly because she’s never heard of any Scarlet who lives on the other side of the alley. Scarlet will have her license plate number, and a SWAT team will shortly break through the door.

B.    That wasn’t a cop. That was a neighbor who, like all of Vanessa’s neighbors, are going to notice that things are off. There will be gossip. There will be speculation. And someone (Scarlet) is bound to joke about the right things to the wrong people.

C.    That was a mirage, another ghost of her guilt, and Brooke is slowly leaving the human world of science and logic for a land with no rules, no guide rails, no compasses.

Brooke has made it to Scenario C by the time she’s pulled into her driveway. She’s got no solid refutations other than “there’s no such thing as ghosts,” but even that seems to be a questionable idea now. She can feel her own heartbeat as it reverberates against the pain in her neck, an unnerving reminder of the way it starts to race out of her own control when she overthinks.

Vanessa isn’t sitting at the breakfast bar, isn’t lounging on the couch, and it looks like the fireplace outside is still untouched. Her stomach twists with worry, but then she hears music coming from down the hall and a creak in the floorboards. If it’s a ghost, it’s a festive one.

It’s not, though. Brooke peeks in through the crack in the door to her room to see Vanessa shimmying, singing along loud and confident and endearingly off key as she arranges a stack of clothes on the end of Brooke’s bed. It’s a few shirts, Brooke’s favorite pair of jeans that once had a bloody handprint on them, clean and dry and folded neatly. Vanessa’s folding her own pants right now, the ones she had been wearing last night, setting them gently in a stack on top of Brooke’s.

Vanessa may not have been able to get her fireplace to work, but she’s sure figured out how to connect to the speaker system. She’s playing some song in Spanish, which Brooke doesn’t understand, but it’s all upbeat and full of attitude: esto está encendío, na na na na. And Vanessa just looks right. Happy.

Brooke can still feel her own heartbeat. Different, though.

The song shifts and Vanessa whips around in time with the music, catching Brooke’s eye. She doesn’t even try to hide the smile that lights up her face when she realizes Brooke is back.

“What? You never seen anyone folding laundry before?” Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat, jumps right back in to swaying.

“When I do it, I usually don’t have a soundtrack,” Brooke laughs.

“You gotta have a soundtrack. Always. It’s something my mama used to always do to cheer me up.”

Then Brooke notices. Vanessa is wearing her poutine shirt. It’s big on her, and it does look horribly dorky but also so adorable and endearing that for a second the throbbing pain in her neck stops, maybe because her heart skipped a beat.

“You…” Brooke starts, but she doesn’t have the words. Vanessa is wearing her clothes, in her bedroom, playing music on her speakers.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “I know I said I was going to burn it. But then these little guys kept looking up at me with their dumb googly eyes and I couldn’t do it. And I remembered you’re rich and you have shit like stain remover, so I saved what I could.”

“You wanted to burn it so badly!”

“Fuck you.” She beams and plays with the hem of the shirt. “It came out of the dryer all warm. And it’s cozy.”

(Brooke wants a home. That’s it, that’s the word she’s been searching for. A home isn’t a building with furniture and fully stocked spice racks, it isn’t a husband and two projected children, it isn’t even a garden and a sunny kitchen. Those things are just pieces that are supposed to go together, that get forced together way too often. But that doesn’t make a home. A home is the right pieces assembled in the right place at the right time. For the right reasons.)

There’s a moment where Brooke thinks about saying something she shouldn’t, but thankfully Vanessa jumps in.

“You looked all shook up when you came in here. Did something happen?”

The pain in her neck reminds her it’s still there. “Do you know someone named Scarlet?”

“Oh, that bitch. What did she say to you?”

Thank god, Brooke wants to whisper. Scarlet’s just a person. A strange person, but just a person.

“Nothing, really,” Brooke answers, “I think I’m just getting paranoid.”

“Yeah, she’s across the street a lot, she doesn’t even live there, but that’s not the point. She’s nobody bad.”

“Good, that’s good.” Brooke wants to kick herself for letting her mind run away from her like that, but she knows that edge of worry isn’t going away anytime soon. She winces a bit as she rubs at the back of her neck, trying to get the pain to simmer down.

“What’s wrong?”

“My neck, but it’s nothing—”

“C’mere. Sit.” Vanessa clicks her tongue disapprovingly, and pulls Brooke to the edge of the bed. She sits down, feels Vanessa cross her legs against her back, and she can’t help but lean into it just a little.

Vanessa brushes Brooke’s hair off the back of her neck, and Brooke isn’t sure if she’s using any magic or if this is just what Vanessa does to her now, but she’s never been more eager to be touched.

Vanessa presses her fingers into the tense tendons along Brooke’s neck, down and into her shoulders, finding and working on the thickened knots that have formed.

“Baby, I know you can afford massages, this is rough.”

When she was a dancer, Brooke had to force the tension out of her shoulders by any means necessary. Sometimes it was the slow route, learning to breathe and expand, but more often than not it was a hard tennis ball between her shoulder and a wall, or a friend’s elbow digging sharply into a knot in her back. This, though. This is ethereal, and she feels her shoulders start to drop, her neck start to loosen, just a little.

Vanessa hums, and she stops kneading, her thumbs coming to rest over the last vertebra of Brooke’s neck before it breaks into her shoulders. “Found it,” Vanessa murmurs.

She doesn’t press in, keeps her fingers light and barely ghosting over Brooke’s skin. And then she feels it, what must be the magic. It’s like a sparkler under her skin, a somehow soft and unobtrusive firework that dazzles away the pain and pushes it out like a draining funnel through Vanessa’s fingers on Brooke’s spine. The knots break apart, and she feels her body lengthen, loosen, settle.

“Oh.” Brooke can’t help it. She feels her own voice ring low in her chest as she breathes out. Her head drops forward instinctively. “That’s…” Brooke can barely speak, doesn’t know why she’s trying. “Holy shit, that feels incredible.”

She hears Vanessa chuckle lightly. “I can’t get it all. I don’t know, there’s something weird about it, but… does that feel better?”

“So much better.” The sparklers start to burn out and it doesn’t matter if it’s not all gone, the pain, the tension, whatever. Brooke rolls her neck a little, reveling in how it feels more open and aligned than any yoga class has ever made her feel.

Brooke’s ready to turn around, maybe lean into Vanessa’s side because she’s feeling loose and bold, but she hesitates. Vanessa’s hand is still on her shoulder, her thumb brushing over the thin edge of her shirt collar, dipping under just barely.

And then—oh.

She feels Vanessa’s breath warm on her neck, and the soft press of lips against her skin.

It’s so unexpected, but she doesn’t tense up. If she was relaxed before, now she liquifies. She can’t help the way her breath hitches, can’t help the way she stretches her neck to give Vanessa more room, can’t help the soft, high hum of her own voice as Vanessa’s lips pull against her sensitive skin. She works her way slowly from the corner of Brooke’s jaw to the flat of her collarbone. Brooke feels the slightest nip of teeth and she might be cracking open. She might be breaking into innumerable pieces but that has never felt more correct.

“Vanessa,” Brooke breathes, trying to sound as level and composed as she can.

But all of a sudden Vanessa isn’t touching her anymore, and a distance of a few inches feels like a mile. “Right, you’re right, too much, sorry.”

Brooke turns around immediately, grabs Vanessa’s wrists because they’re the first things she can find. “No, hey,” Brooke starts, but doesn’t know where to go. Vanessa’s eyes are locked on her, scared again, and it’s the last thing she ever wants to see.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Vanessa is frozen in place, her voice coming with just a small percentage of her normal energy. “I can’t read your mind.”

Brooke isn’t sure what she’s thinking, if she’s thinking at all. This morning, last night, she couldn’t have even thought to articulate what she was feeling. There were too many other loose ends to prioritize this, whatever was happening with them. But now with the body in the ground and Nina on her way home safe and Vanessa real and warm and concerned in front of her, there’s no more delaying.

She searches for the right words, can’t find them. She’s too blissed and transformed to worry about that, though. She loosens her grip on Vanessa in surrender. “Why did you kiss me? Last night, right now, why?”

Vanessa lets out the breath she’s been holding. “I think you know.”

“I don’t want to be wrong.”

“It wasn’t some panicked crazy murder kiss, if that’s what you’re asking.” Vanessa twists her hands out of Brooke’s grasp so that she’s holding one of her hands, tracing the whorls of her knuckles. “I meant it. I wanted it. I’ve wanted it for a while. And I’m real fucking scared you don’t.”

Brooke is in a million shining pieces and about fifteen of them are still rational and functioning at this point. They’re no match for the desire that comes bubbling up through the wide-open cracks and spills out of her mouth.

“I want you,” Brooke says, unencumbered, unafraid, any semblance of evolutionary defenses obliterated. “I don’t think I’m supposed to, but fuck supposed, I want you, I want this, I want—”

Brooke isn’t sure who leans in first; it happens too fast. Maybe it’s both of them. Maybe it doesn’t matter. But what matters so intensely is the fire and the meaning and the purpose when their lips meet this time, the way Vanessa’s tongue curls like a flame against her own, the way Vanessa’s breath stutters when Brooke pulls her lip between her teeth.

Vanessa falls back onto the bed, kicks the pile of neatly folded clothes into a lump on the floor. Brooke laughs as Vanessa pulls her down on top of her, hand fisting tight in her shirt and pulling apart a few of the buttons. Their teeth clack and it’s messy but it’s right. Brooke uses one arm to hold herself steady while the other gets lost in Vanessa’s curls, finally, finally, finally echoing like a drum beat in the back of her mind.

(One good thing. At least there’s one good thing. That thought’s softer, more distant, but certainly there. It’s an important one.)

Vanessa’s hands settle on her hips, link through her belt loops, and Brooke laces her legs in between Vanessa’s. And yes, okay, fuck, she hasn’t felt this kind of need in years, the way she’s desperate for some kind of pressure. She pins Vanessa’s hips down with one hand, grinds against her.

“Touch me,” Vanessa breathes into her neck like she knows it’s exactly what Brooke needs to hear. “Touch me please.”

Brooke’s hand drifts from Vanessa’s hip bone to between her legs. It’s already overwhelming, how warm she feels, even through her jeans. Vanessa rolls her body into Brooke’s touch, whines soft and pretty and exactly her, and Brooke is undoing her jeans, pushing them down somehow confident and sure.

“Wait,” Vanessa breathes, and Brooke freezes with her hand hovering excruciatingly close to Vanessa’s panties. “Wanna try something.”

Before Brooke can ask what she means, she starts to feel tingles over her hand, some feather-light force pushing it lower. She would think that Vanessa was guiding her with her own hand, but Brooke can feel them both bracketing her head, fingernails scratching into her scalp.

“Are you… Is this…?” Brooke can’t articulate it. Vanessa can manipulate bodies, she knows that, but she hadn’t even conceived—

“Mhm.” Vanessa smiles soft, her face flushed.

And Brooke surrenders, lets the invisible force guide her hand because she trusts it to take her where she wants to go, trusts Vanessa with her body, her heart, her life even. It’s intense, but that doesn’t feel so terrifying as before. The glimmering force moves her hand up and under Vanessa’s panties, and slowly (too slowly) lower.

When she draws her fingers through the slick wetness, that’s all Brooke. When she presses a finger in slow and sure, that’s all Brooke. When Vanessa throws her head back and whispers, “yes, god, oh baby,” that’s all Brooke.

It’s a bad angle. Vanessa’s jeans are still mostly on and they’re too tight, but it’s worth the wrist pain and it’s worth the sweat to see Vanessa looking up at her with eyes that are mostly pupils. Brooke curls her finger up and Vanessa makes a sound that shouldn’t be possible, shouldn’t be human, and Brooke keeps pushing her for more, more, more.

It happens too fast, but most lightning strikes do. Three short gasps and Vanessa is coming, squeezing tight around her and biting into her collarbone. Vanessa’s breath is low and heavy as she sinks down into the comforter, an echo of thunder off the walls of Brooke’s bedroom.

“Wow,” Vanessa finally says between breaths.

“Yeah.” Brooke pulls her hand back and Vanessa’s hip shakes from oversensitivity. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m…” Vanessa shakes her head dreamily. “I’m really good.”

Her breathing isn’t slowing, and Brooke smiles a little. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Brooke stands on legs that she shouldn’t trust, somehow makes it to the bathroom. As she fills the glass she considers herself in the mirror, almost unrecognizably disheveled. She pulls back the top of her collar, sees the red imprint of teeth in the shape of a half moon, and presses her fingers into it to try and recreate the sensation.

When she comes back, Vanessa has crawled up to the head of the bed, snuggled up under the comforter. Brooke hands her the glass of water and settles in beside her as she sips slowly.

“Still wanna touch you,” she says lazily. “Wanna make you feel good.“

“We’ve got time.” And damn, that fact feels nice. “Doesn’t have to be now.”

Vanessa nods, clearly sleepy, and hands the glass back to Brooke, who sets it on the bedside table. She settles into Brooke’s side.

��Stay here,” Brooke says softly into Vanessa’s hair as she slots her head against Brooke’s collarbone.

“You bet I’m staying, I couldn’t move if I tried.”

“No, I mean, stay here. Stay with me, for however long you need.”

A second passes, and Brooke wishes she could see Vanessa’s face. “You shouldn’t offer that.”

“I want you here. You said we’re in this together. I don’t think we should be apart.”

Brooke should be terrified. Those words shouldn’t feel sensical, but she can’t dream of an alternative. They’ve dug themselves into a hole, another painfully ironic turn of phrase, but this feels too right, too promising to ignore.

“Okay,” Vanessa says, barely a whisper, as she presses a soft kiss to the underside of Brooke’s jaw. “I’ll stay.”

–

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Scarlet sits topless in her girlfriend’s bed and lights a cigarette.

“Ashtray, bitch!” Yvie shouts as soon as she looks up from where she’s scrolling on her phone. She passes Scarlet a red ceramic plate from her bedside table; Scarlet is unperturbed. “I swear, one of these days you’re gonna light this bed on fire.

Scarlet grins smugly. “You’re implying that I haven’t already?”

Yvie rolls her eyes and looks back down at her phone.

“I’m trying to talk to you!” Scarlet gestures weakly in her direction. “I’m trying to tell you about my day.”

“And I’m listening. Vanessa’s sleeping with an older blonde woman. I thought we already knew that.”

“There’s something weird going on, though. She was all jumpy. And she was carrying a bunch of Vanessa’s stuff."

Yvie still doesn’t look up. “This might be a radical idea for you, but some people actually want to move in with their girlfriends.”

Scarlet gets quiet, pouts her lips around her cigarette as she takes a drag. “You’re being mean.”

“I’m sorry.” Yvie’s got a tendency to dig her heels in, but she knows better than to do that around Scarlet. She puts her phone down, stuffs it all the way under the pillow, and her voice gets sincere. “That was too much. Work is so soul-sucking lately, I’ve been out of it.”

“I thought you liked mysteries. Don’t you wanna solve this one?”

“I’d give anything for a good goddamn story. If I have to write one more fluff piece about a baby animal at the zoo I’m jumping straight into the enclosure.” Yvie traces listless lines across Scarlet’s bare arm, and Scarlet giggles and drops her head. “But I don’t think they’d bite at this one. I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’d read it! Secret Romance Rocks Local Neighborhood, Shatters Sad Man’s Heart. That’s a great headline.”

“If I was writing for a 1950s gossip column, maybe.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Scarlet dabs out her cigarette in the ashtray, tries to feign disinterest.

Yvie cocks an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

She pushes Scarlet back down into the mattress, and she quickly changes her mind.