#very much effort into the mascara droop look

[thinkingnot]

making an oc and she’s so cute

her name’s Droop and she’s a fully grown- teenager <- giving her a rebellious phase as we speak

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost 

↣ inspired by @haik-choo​’s post 

↣ wc: 2.4k

↣ warnings: emotional pain, swearing, mentions of sex (not outright anything).

↣ format: mixed

↣  song recommendation:  5 Seconds of Summer - Lover Of Mine &  5 Seconds Of Summer - Ghost Of You

↣  preamble: atsumu miya never understands what he has until its too late. from a young age, he only focused on his own satisfaction and accordingly, his own pleasure. the only reason your relationship was able to stand the test of time was solely because of your accommodating nature. but sometimes, it still hurts… the lack of appreciation. would he truly care if you stopped leaving him little love notes in your shared apartment? would he notice if you stopped keeping pace with him during your morning walks? did he even care that you only woke up at the ungodly hour to spend more time with him? with those questions unanswered, some days you wonder if love should hurt this much.  

After winning five consecutive matches, a formal banquet was arranged to celebrate MSBY’s notable achievement. The guest-list was littered with numerous B list celebrities, with the occasional A lister promising to attend. What was originally planned to be a small gathering morphed into an evening gala that attracted media coverage, and a significant crowd. Some were desperate to secure an invite solely to catch a glimpse of one of the star players; while others were significantly more interested in the foreign chief that would be designing the menu for the function. Whatever the motivation, each attendee expelled an aura of excitement, one that was highly contagious. Accompanying the delectable atmosphere was a sugary scent wafting throughout the establishment. It was what Atsumu Miya deemed heaven on earth.

The blonde setter had the stem of a wineglass tucked between two fingers nonchalantly, occasionally swaying the maroon liquid as he surveyed those around him. He adored these gatherings for numerous reasons, one being the unnaturally attractive crowd it allured. Not that he planned on approaching any of them with nefarious intentions – he had a date after-all. The same one for the last four years. You. However, he refused to believe there was any harm in simply admiring from afar what he could have but chose not to. It provided him a rush of exhilaration, knowing that if he chose, he could secure the interest of any woman within the vicinity. Oh yes, if only they were so lucky. But alas, they were not. Simply having their attention and compliments was enough, he was disinterested in the satisfaction of sleeping with them. The truth was, while they were surely attractive, none of them would provide him the consistency that came neatly packaged with you. To be blunt, you were easy. Low maintenance, as he explained two nights ago to his brother. Even now, rather than remain glued to his side, you were somewhere in the crowd, mingling with someone unknown. He preferred it this way, and you knew it.

Half an hour before dinner was to be served, Atsumu was invited to take a shot with the MSBY Ace. Bokuto’s best friend refused to drink, vowing to return home early to complete a manuscript, and so he sought a new drinking buddy. But when he approached the setter, his thoughts of drinking were replaced with a newfound concern. Atsumu notified his team-mate that his hair required a quick touch up. His usual spikes were beginning to droop, resembling a withering flower.  

“Akaashi! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Tsum, do you have any gel?” A pout registered upon his lips as he attempted to sharpen the ends of his hair using his index finger and thumb. What if someone caught a photo of him appearing less than satisfactory? The Ace, ordinary or not, should appear extraordinary on a night dedicated to celebrating him (and his team-mates).

“I don’t think it looks that bad, Bokuto-san.” The black-haired writer shook his head, prior to bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips. Okay, maybe he could have something earlier. But to his defence, he had only noticed the imperfection now. With a wave of exhaustion weighing over his eyelids, he was less perceptive than usual.

“You know lying to him ain’t gonna fix the problem, right?” Atsumu shifted his narrowed gaze at Akaashi questioningly, something the other male did not appreciate. “And do you really have to ask? Of course, I do. Come on.” The blonde tapped against his lower jacket pocket, where a thin container of hair-serum was kept.

“I’m going to my seat. I’ll meet you there when you’re done.” The comment was directed solely at Bokuto, in a tone that indicated the writer would rather not spend any ‘quality’ time with the setter unless forced to. The brunette was not his biggest fan to say the least.

“I’ll be back soon.” He was well aware that his best friend and team-mate were not particularly fond of one another, placing distance was perhaps the best available option. Once the writer was no longer present, the pair began walking towards the bathroom. “Say… Tsum, where’s y/n?” Instinctively, the Ace’s golden irises searched the space around them for your familiar face.

“I dunno. Somewhere. I’m sure I’ll see her at the dinner table, since we’re sitting together.” The disinterest laced in his tone startled the other male, who failed to mask his bewilderment. Atsumu ignored the puzzlement that shined in his team-mate’s eyes, dismissing the action with a limp shrug before entering the bathroom first.

Bokuto trailed in a second later, pausing at the mirror with a hand extended forward. “You guys are really weird.”

Retrieving the container from his pouch, the blonde handed his team-mate the gel then began adjusting his own appearance, beginning by ushering aside some fallen strands. The observation that was offered only brought a little laugh to exit his mouth. “Yeah? Why do you say that?”

“You don’t act like a real couple.” Bokuto did not intend to respond immediately, particularly because he desired to avoid the stare he was now receiving through the mirror. The lack of hesitation was not well received by the MSBY setter.

“We don’t need to abide by norms to be a couple, Bokkun.” Despite the sour taste curling around his tongue, Atsumu managed to maintain a smile on his lips, finding humour in his own explanation.

“Alright, so is that why you haven’t proposed yet?” The white-haired Ace mentally scolded himself for his lack of restraint. He should have bit his tongue. Oh, if only he bit his tongue –

However, this was not the first time the question was posed to him. In fact, two days ago, it was exact topic that resulted in a very heated argument with his twin-brother. He truly did not understand why proposing was necessary. You both already lived together – was that not enough?

“It’s not that serious.” Tugging at his sleeves, the setter then adjusted his cufflinks. “I love her, but I’m not sure she’s the one. I don’t know if I can really give everything up forever, for her. For the time-being, I don’t mind. But I’m not giving everything up just yet.” The final sentence uttered by the blonde was more of an affirmation to himself, one that did not register well with his team-mate. It seemed that everyone but Atsumu could see how much you did for him. His unappreciated nature was rather toxic.

“That doesn’t sound like love, dude.”

No. It certainly did not.

They say that the truth will always be revealed sooner or later. Perhaps Atsumu Miya’s true feelings would have been revealed later, if he chose to lower his voice and restrict his sincerity. Had he known that you were outside, he certainly would have taken some precautions. But how could he have known that you were searching for him, when you ran into Akaashi? Who unfortunately knew exactly where he was?

How many warnings were issued by your friends over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? What would they say now? How many red flags did you ignore? 

How curious how easily you confused ache for butterflies.

The strain circling inside of your temples morphed into a throb as the liquid distorting your vision began spilling down your cheeks, dragging your mascara along with it. Behind you someone whispered your name, fear gripping their throat and muffling the sound. But you were unable to recognize who the voice belonged to, as you no longer held the luxury of having a stable state of mind.

Lifting your trembling fingers to the area below your eyelids, you stumbled attempting to discard the substance hanging on your lashes. “I need to go. I… Oh, I’m stupid. I just… I need to leave. Please.” Sluggishly, you shifted your body to face the person who addressed you earlier, seeking any aid that was offered. You couldn’t face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I know. Come on.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi accidentally stumbled onto the scene just as Atsumu began responding to the inquiry. He was not staggered to hear the cruel statements fall casually from his team-mate’s lips. Similar statements were uttered in the locker-room on numerous occasions. It was your reaction that tugged at his heart. No one deserved to hear the one they loved speak with such venom, and certainly not you. “Let’s go before they come out, shall we?”

The thrill of partying as a newly single bachelor provided Atsumu Miya temporary satisfaction. Each night a stranger’s mouth was attached to his, as he clung to them, desperate to combat the vanilla scent that circulated in the apartment, even weeks after your departure. How many girls had now laid in the exact spot you once occupied on the bed? Dozens? And yet, every morning when he awoke, he continuously thought it was you in his arms, and not someone whose name he did not bother remembering. His endeavours to erase you were fruitless. Not due to a lack of effort, but because the truth was… He didn’t want to forget you.

It took a month for the realization to settle in. No longer interested in the meaningless sex that was offered by mistresses of the night, he found himself unable to leave the apartment unless there was a match scheduled. It was the only location where he could feel some connection to you. Particularly when intoxicated, he swore he could hear you whisper soothing sentiments into his ears, dispelling his fears that you no longer loved him.

But each morning, reality would register once more, providing him a metaphorical jab to his chest.

Today was no different.

It had been forty days since the gala. Forty days to mull over how just how much you did for him, and just how little he did for you. It wasn’t always like this. Over the years, he became too accustomed to your giving nature. Soon, he developed a toxic mentality that he was entitled to everything you provided. But it wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t. At least that was what he repeated to himself, hoping it was the truth.

After downing a liter of water, the throbbing in his head had dimmed to a tolerable level. And once the lights no longer strained his eyes, he reached for his phone, determination igniting in his heart. 

“Hi.” The greeting was exhaled softly into the phone, as anxiety prompted your heart to beat irregularly. The uncertainty of what would be said by your former lover had your thoughts tangled into an incoherent mess.

“Hey. Thanks for talking with me.” Atsumu pressed a fist against his mouth, muffling the small whimper that threatened to sound. Oh fuck. You actually picked up. A single word overwhelmed him with the storm of emotions he usually suppressed with alcohol.

A little hum was given to acknowledge his gratitude, it was honestly the best you could offer. But it was unlike you to be so quiet. The thought that he impacted you this much only expanded the guilt he was suffocating in.

“Was I always this bad?” The setter’s eyes stung with fresh tears forming along his lids. Did he even deserve to speak with you now?

Inhaling a lengthy breath of air, silence greeted him for a minute as you mustered the courage to respond. You knew you should hate him. and yet, hearing the tremor in his voice broke your heart. Was it really your fault that you still loved him?

“You weren’t.” You prayed the words were audible, since you were unsure whether you would be able to repeat yourself.

The blonde found the slightest bit of relief in your response, although it only eased a tenth of the tension he was battling to contain. Swallowing once, he strived to stabilize his breathing.

“Will you give me another chance?”

You caught onto the small crack in his voice, symbolizing his distress and sincerity simultaneously. But you wished you hadn’t.

“Atsumu. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a future with me.” Even now, stating a reminder of what you heard activated the emotional wound you spent the last month attempting to heal. Could you truly ever get passed this?

“I can’t see a future without you in it.” He interjected, not missing a beat. He refused to deny it any longer. He was an idiot, but he loved you. It was more than the fact you were low maintenance. He knew that now.

“I feel like I wasted four years, do you understand that?” His confession promoted a swarm of butterflies to parade inside of your stomach, but the mental reminder of your friends scoldings kept you grounded. Pretty words would not heal the damage. Not this time. “I’m sorry. I can’t waste any more…”

“You won’t have to, y/n. I promise. Let me take care of you this time. It will be different.” At this point he was essentially begging you to place trust in his promises, even if he had no credibility.

Maybe it was unhealthy how much you wished his promise to be true. How desperate you were to lower your armor and envelope him into your embrace instead. You knew your friends would never approve of him, but his pleads were weaved together with a vulnerability you had never heard before. Before you could stop yourself, the one word the setter was waiting for left your mouth. 

“Okay.” Dropping your face into your palm, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. 

The second you agreed, the blonde was already on his feet, fetching his keys before rushing to the front door. It had been so long since the setter was flooded with joy, he could barely contain himself. “Where are you? I’m coming to you now.” Clicking the lock to a close, he nestled his phone against his shoulder.

Upon hearing the shuffling in his background followed by his question, you instantly shot up to your feet, feeling a surge of hope enter your system. “Don’t you have practice soon?” You certainly did not expect this. Not at all.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway, he blew out a scoff. “I don’t fucking care. I need you in my arms now. Text me the address and I’ll be there. I fucking love you, y/n I love you so much. I’ll never let you go again. I promise.”

It should be noted that he wholeheartedly intended to keep that promise, and thankfully… he did.

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast​ @shakiraisawesome​

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: “Girlfriend Material.” (Brick/Blossom)

February Fic Prompt #21 - Author’s Choice

For the wonderful @carriedreamerx, a fellow Reds die-hard and all-around A+ lady. Also can be read as kind of a part 2 to an earlier one-shot called Shook.

Summary: Blossom is having a bad day. Brick accidentally makes her feel better.

xxx

The four most dreaded words in the English language haunted Blossom after Julie’s party on Friday. They’d ruined the night, causing her to leave at nine p.m. alone, she didn’t want to drag Bubbles home early just because of her. They’d ruined her weekend plans—movie night with her sisters and Robin, studying at her favorite table at the public library, and Sunday family brunch. Through it all, Blossom was quiet and morose, and no one could get her to talk about why.

Why.

Those four stupid, little words.

They were just words, sticks and stones, as she often would tell Bubbles whenever she got upset about teasing that went too far.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four words.

xxx

Monday’s alarm went off at six a.m. sharp, and Blossom rose on autopilot to brush her teeth and get ready for school. She was halfway through applying a bit of mascara when she realized Bubbles wasn’t awake, and the Professor hadn’t called up to announce breakfast. And then she remembered.

Fall Break.

Blossom slumped over the sink, heavy and lethargic, the tube of mascara limp in her hand. How could she forget they had a whole week off from classes? Where was her head?

Her reflection was washed out and pale in the morning gloom through the bathroom window, and she looked ridiculous with only one eye made up. Sighing, she hastily did the other one, put the mascara away, and went to get dressed. Bubbles slept like a rock on her stomach even through Blossom’s alarm. The girl could have slept through an earthquake, no doubt. Buttercup, however, shifted in her bed.

“Going somewhere?” she called in a raspy, sleep-addled voice.

Blossom smiled and smoothed her sister’s mussed bangs. Even though there was no longer any visible trace of the many injuries she had sustained fighting Butch on Friday, Buttercup would need a couple more days of rest to get back to her regular shape. The IV drip next to her bed held a bag of Chemical X, nearly drained as it fed her through the night little by little.

“I forgot we’re on break,” Blossom said softly so as not to wake Bubbles.

“You nerd.”

Buttercup’s eyes drooped, but a smile tugged at her chapped lips. Blossom grabbed her half empty glass from the nightstand and refilled it in the bathroom sink.

“Go back to sleep,” Blossom said, leaving the fresh glass of water on the nightstand.

Buttercup turned over in bed and pulled the covers over her head. “Way ahead of you.”

That was that. Blossom floated to the window and quietly unhooked the latch. The Professor was moving around downstairs, but she didn’t much feel like talking to him right now. No doubt he would press her about Friday again, as he’d tried several times this weekend. The sun was rising steadily in the distance, casting the suburbs in a strange, dewy glow.

“Hey,” Buttercup called.

Blossom paused.

“Whatever it is, it can’t hurt you. You’re a badass.”

Blossom bit her trembling lip. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She glanced back at Buttercup, but she was under the covers with her back to her. Even so, Blossom could not bring herself to speak. If she did, she might say too much.

She slipped out of the window, pulled it closed behind her, and flew towards Townsville.

xxx

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Blossom flew over Townsville waking up. It had rained last night, and the fog was thick over the bay as it battled the encroaching sun. She’d read a short story once about monsters in the mist. Gruesome, Lovecraftian horror, the type she never sought out but couldn’t refuse when it was a recommendation from her English teacher. There were no monsters in the mists shrouding Townsville of course, but she imagined them all the same, lurking voyeurs.

One day, she wouldn’t even remember this morning, this feeling, the quiet so high up insulating her from the city sounds far below, tires screeching and jackhammers crunching and a thousand feet scuttling. Logically speaking, none of it mattered.

But it still hurt.

She wasn’t hungry, and she wasn’t cold. She was rarely cold, being a block of ice herself. The ice queen. An unoriginal and lazy moniker, but one that stuck among her peers. Smart, studious Blossom. Commander and the leader, it’s lonely at the top. Come down from your snowcapped throne now and again to walk among us poor plebeians, why don’t you?

They weren’t all like that. The ones who mattered, mattered. Usually it didn’t bother her anyway. Sticks and stones, as they said, but they also said the pen is mightier than the sword. So which is it?

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Logically speaking, people told themselves what they needed to hear to make themselves believe everything was fine.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four paper-thin words.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four soul-crushing, little words.

xxx

Logically speaking, there were no monsters in the mist.

xxx

Brick wasn’t sure why he went.

Up at the ass-crack of dawn because his alarm was set to repeat and he’d forgotten to turn it off for the Fall Break week, there was no going back to sleep now that the damage was done. Boomer flung his pillow at Brick’s bed to try to kill that screeching alarm, hit him in the face, and suffered a very hard, very warranted shove off the sofa.

“Dude, what the fuuuuuuck?” Boomer whined from the floor in his boxers.

“What the fuck do you mean, what the fuck?” Brick demanded. “Why are you sleeping on my couch?”

Boomer rubbed his tired eyes. “Butch’s snoring is so loud since he started that X drip and I can’t take it anymore!”

“Not my problem.” Brick went to his closet to pull on a fresh shirt. Fuck, it was cold this morning. He grabbed a hoodie from a hanger.

“Briiiiiick,” Boomer whined. “I’m so tired.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I’m going out. You better not be in here when I get back.”

Boomer was already crawling back onto his couch as he left his room to use the bathroom though. Whatever, it was too early to deal with Boomer’s crap. The two-bedroom apartment was claustrophobic this morning, like the walls were closing in on Brick, and he had the immediate urge to get out.

After he cleaned up, threw on his cap, and grabbed his keys, he took off into the early morning sky with no destination in mind as long as it wasn’t home.

Fall Break. What was he supposed to do for an entire week? At least Butch was out of commission paying for the consequences of his hormonal jack-assery. Boomer had his friends to hang with, but he could get clingy when the brothers were confined to home without a schedule. And Brick was pretty sure he remembered Wes saying he was going to be out of town with his folks, so that left Boomer best friend-less for the foreseeable future.

Hence, Brick wasn’t sure why he went to the ruined Shankaplex lot. Only, his head was full of all these useless thoughts and he wasn’t thinking straight and anyway it was hard to miss with that enormous fucking crane they’d brought in to help clear up the remains of the movie theater parking lot Butch and Blossom had completely demolished in their fight.

She was already there.

Her red hair cut through the grey of the broken asphalt and concrete like the sun through the rain-cold fog, but little about Blossom was warm. Brick frowned at the thought. He hadn’t seen her since Julie’s party, and even then only for a few minutes. She’d left really early.

She sat alone on the roof of the neighboring Cooper’s Market watching a team of construction workers in orange vests slowly working to clear the mess of tree trunks forcibly uprooted during the fight. They were scattered like dominoes on the asphalt. Brick’s eyes traveled from the back of Blossom’s head to a particularly deep crater where she’d stood towering over Butch, cowed like Brick had hardly ever seen him before, her eyes red with power as they lifted to meet his.

He barely touched down when she sensed him and turned. Her eyes were red, like before, but not with power.

Blossom hastily wiped her puffy eyes and the few tears wetting her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

Brick froze where he stood. Every instinct in him told him to flee, get the fuck out of there, her tears were not for him to see. Heart pounding in his ears, he clenched his suddenly clammy fists because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with them. “Nothing,” he said, like a total idiot.

Fuck, she’s fucking crying, what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still in full-on idiot mode.

Oh thank god, she’d turned away. He couldn’t see her crying anymore, but that little sniffle sent a chilling pang down his spine that was almost painful. He suppressed a growl at the sensation.

“My alarm woke me up,” she said glumly. “I forgot to turn it off for the week.”

Brick stood petrified behind her, and it was a wonder that she couldn’t hear his heart hammering loud enough to give him a headache. Her banal words were a lifeline he clung to through the noise, and he swallowed hard.

“Me too,” he said. “Habit.”

She nodded, as if the effort to respond was too great, and it was the respite he needed to calm the fuck down. He considered just leaving, but she’d acknowledged him, and leaving now would look like running. Brick didn’t run, especially not from her.

Feet leaden, he shuffled to the edge of the roof and sank down a respectable arm’s length away from her. She said nothing, and their legs dangled over the edge overlooking the red and white striped awning. A big, neon sign advertising the grocery store buzzed and glowed yellow at the other end of the roof. Brick took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and put it back on. Still, she said nothing, so he glanced at her.

She was in jeans and a plain, white tank top, no frills and not even her usual pearl studs she always wore. Her hair was long and loose, draping her shoulders. Brick shivered just looking at her. Wasn’t she cold?

“How’s Butch?” she asked.

It took Brick a moment to comprehend her question. She was looking right at him. Despite a little residual puffiness, her eyes were dry as a bone.

“Sleeping it off,” Brick said.

She nodded and went back to watching the construction workers.

Brick racked his brain for something to say to her. “It’s actually kind of nice having him out of commission. Everything’s quieter.”

She hugged one knee to her chest and shrank in on herself, and he bit his tongue.

Great.

He’d never had a problem talking to Blossom before. She was just Blossom, the uptight, annoying, micromanager he had to put up with in all his classes and at some social functions where their friend circles overlapped. She was just always there, always shrewd, always ready to shut him down if he so much as breathed at her funny. But this was like pulling teeth. What had changed?

Well, he knew exactly what had changed. Right there in that crater, in fact. He could picture it so clearly, could hear the pride in her voice as she exuded her total and absolute control like she’d been born to do it, and he’d never quite noticed before. How had he never noticed before? She was always right there.

“Can I ask you something?” She tugged on her hair. Nervous habit.

Why is she nervous?

Brick dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Am I girlfriend material?”

He stared, waiting for her to crack, but Blossom never cracked.

Oh.

She was serious.

“Girlfriend material?” he repeated. It took every ounce of his incredible self-control to keep his voice neutral as he studied her impassive face.

“Girlfriend material,” she confirmed.

And damn, could she be cold when she wanted to be. Not even her tears could shake her now as she watched him, waiting on his answer like they were at war and it was go or get out of the way.

“To a specific person?”

“Objectively speaking.”

“That’s not an objective question.”

“Sure it is.”

He frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Western beauty standards would suggest otherwise.”

“So you want to know if you’re hot?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But it’s the standard you’re basing your question on.”

She wrung her fingers in her hair. “I guess it’s related. But that’s entirely my point. There are certain traits or standards that inform what makes someone girlfriend material.”

“Objectively speaking.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Brick considered her. She was nervous, fucking crying when he’d found her. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what had probably happened, even though he was, in fact, a genius and she was completely transparent right now, besides.

Is she messing with me?

If she was, the crying was some Olympic level acting he’d never known her capable of. Blossom was many things, but she wasn’t duplicitous.

How was this nervous, self-conscious girl the same one who had completely dominated Butch in a fight and loved every minute of being seen doing it?

Brick cleared his very dry throat and sat cross-legged to face her. “You mentioned traits and standards. What are the others?”

“Others?”

“That make someone girlfriend material. We already established that number one, she has to be hot.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say super model hot, but probably conventionally attractive.”

He waved her off. “Fine, whatever. Next?”

Blossom thought about that. “Well, I guess she should be nice.”

“Fine, but she can’t be boring.”

“Being nice doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

“It does if that’s all you are.”

“Of course that’s not all I am.”

Brick snorted. “No, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.”

Blossom narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. She should be smart.”

Blossom looked like she wanted to press him, but she refrained. “I agree. Intelligence is attractive.”

“But not too smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“And social, but not annoying about it. She should be able to keep up and complement you in any situation, but not overshadow or steal the spotlight.”

Blossom flushed in anger. “You realize how incredibly misogynistic that is, don’t you?”

Brick shrugged. “You said objectively speaking.”

“Oh, and you think all guys want is a party girl with above average looks and below average brains to stroke their egos?”

“No, I think your premise itself is flawed and I was proving my point. There’s no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend. That’s bullshit, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.” He watched her avert her gaze like a timid little bird. “Anyone who tries to meet such a bullshit standard is also an idiot.”

That got her attention, and she turned angry, pink eyes on him. “I’m the last person on the planet you should be calling an idiot.”

“I was speaking objectively,” he sneered.

Okay, that was petty, he could admit that to himself. But it was worth it to see the indignation on her pretty face. She got up in a blaze of pink. He was not far behind.

“This was a mistake. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you of all people.” She began to walk away.

He followed. “That makes two of us.”

The sun was up now, and more construction workers had shown up to operate the crane. Even up on the roof, it was beginning to get a little noisy for anyone with sensitive Super hearing.

Nonetheless, they remained on the roof.

xxx

Conceited jerk, Blossom fumed on the other side of the roof with her arms crossed. Why do I even bother?

The conceited jerk didn’t know how to take a hint.

“You’re not actually upset,” Brick said.

Blossom glared back at him. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you get to dictate my feelings?”

“No, obviously. I meant why are you upset?”

Her lip trembled, but she bit down on it hard enough to hurt. No way was she going to cry in front of him again. Bad enough that he’d surprised her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you care.”

Red sparks crackled on his skin. Blossom felt the sudden push of his choleric power like a punch to the gut, but she held her ground. It was over so fast that it left her breathless.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “This is so fucking stupid.”

For once, Blossom was inclined to agree with him.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“At Julie’s party. Whoever told you that you’re not girlfriend material. Who was it?”

Blossom shook her head, stunned. “That’s not… You weren’t even there—”

“You ran outta there like the place was on fire right after I got there,” he interrupted her. “So who was it?”

Blossom continued to stare at him. Angry Brick she could handle. Smarmy, arrogant, crass Brick she was used to brushing aside, loudly challenging, or ignoring completely depending on the mood. But this—no, not concerned, certainly not, more like curious Brick—was a subtle beast.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Just tell me.”

Without Blossom realizing how or when, something had shifted between them. She had never been afraid of Brick, not even when they were kids and literally trying to destroy each other to no avail, and she wasn’t afraid now. But something in his countenance, in the casual way he rested his hands in his hoodie pockets, the power to crush mountains kept at bay with frightening ease, gave her pause.

Logically speaking, there are no monsters in the mist.

None that could hurt her, anyway.

“Just…some girls,” Blossom said in a voice she hardly recognized. “Just some mean girls.”

Just four little words that hit like bullets.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

Blossom could not begin to understand why, but standing there on the roof with him as the construction workers hammered away below, she was struck with an overwhelming sadness as bleak as the fog that settled in the streets. If he were anyone else, his pity would have shamed her. But Brick had never once pitied her.

“I don’t get it,” she said. She was bullet proof. She’d faced monsters and demons and nightmares alike. Buttercup may be the toughest, and Bubbles may be light in the darkness, but Blossom was always in control, and control was power. It was everything. She could even face Brick’s chaotic brother on a Chemical X bender, and it felt good. She’d felt good. But this, these four damning words, hit her where she was weakest and most vulnerable, and she just couldn’t help it.

For all her power and control, she was just a seventeen-year-old girl who wanted to fit in.

She hugged herself close, wishing someone else would. “I don’t get it all.”

“I know.”

Blossom looked up. She’d forgotten Brick was even still there, but there he remained, stock still and staring off into the distance, his jaw set.

“You…”

“I mean, I get it,” he snapped. He scowled, but not at her.

Bewildered, Blossom could only stare as Brick became even more uncomfortable than she was. And then, it hit her.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“I’m just saying.”

She stepped closer, unsure if she was hallucinating. “Why?”

He took off his cap and roughly carded his fingers through his short hair. “Because it’s fucking stupid. Not you, but you being so upset. Not like that—” he preempted her protest that never came, “—just that they could make you feel so shitty when you’re so…” He gestured to her.

“So what?”

His face flushed in anger. “You know, you.”

Blossom frowned. “I don’t understand—”

“You’re you. Class president, smart as fuck, you know, future Time Person of the Year type of shit—”

“That’s not—”

“—so beautiful and you know it. Hey, don’t make that innocent face. You’ve always known you’re gorgeous, you’re just too busy being nice to the morons in this city who couldn’t tie their goddamned shoes without whining for help to make a big deal out of it—”

Blossom matched his flush. “Just because people need my help sometimes doesn’t make them morons—”

“—and it just pisses me the fuck off because you’re this force of nature who can make my psychotic brother eat a dick one minute—”

“Oh my god—”

“—but then you fall apart because of what a bunch of obnoxious high school girls say to you drunk at a party? Jesus fucking Christ, Blossom.”

Blossom was so livid that she didn’t hesitate even a second to get in his face. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

Brick leaned down so close their noses nearly touched. “Like what?”

“Like you’re so above it all when you just admitted to me that you’re not.” Pink sparks materialized upon her skin as her temper flared to match his. How dare he try to play her for a fool? He of all people knew better.

Brick’s fingers on her cheek were the last thing she expected, and she recoiled with a gasp. Her power danced between his fingers, caught and mingling with his, and he made a slow fist one finger at a time. Blossom watched, mesmerized and unable to fathom why, but her eyes were blown wide and her lips parted.

Brick’s gaze flickered from his fist back to her, and she bit her lip. He had never looked at her like that before, except…

Except when she shoved Butch into the ground, exhausted and sore, and found Brick watching her like she was all that was worth looking at in this world. Shock and awe, she’d chalked it up to surprise at her actually beating Butch. Of course he’d underestimate her just like his brother, like everyone else. But no, that wasn’t right. This close to him, that heated look was unmistakable now.  

The moment passed like the sun dipping behind a cloud, and he pulled back. He slipped his hand back into his hoodie pocket and smiled in that subtle, diabolical way he’d perfected years ago. “Much better.”

Blossom swallowed hard. Had she… Had she imagined it?

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her stomach growled, excruciatingly loud to her Super hearing and his.

Brick burst out laughing.

Mortified, Blossom blanched and covered her mouth and wished she could just disappear. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And she would have flown right out of there if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. Still grinning, he tugged her back. “No, don’t leave.”

Blossom squeezed her eyes shut and wondered why the universe hated her so much. “We’re really done here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.”

The initial embarrassment faded, and she was left to wonder at his very odd choice of words. “What?”

“There’s a 1950s style diner I like a few blocks from here. I skipped breakfast too.”

He wasn’t laughing at her anymore as he waited on her acquiescence.

His hand was fire around her wrist. For the first time that morning, she started to feel the chill.

“All right,” she said.

“All right.” He let her go and began to float. “This way.”

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

Especially not pain.

Blossom sipped on the best vanilla milkshake she’d ever tasted as Brick rattled off dish after dish to the flabbergasted waitress who could not be blamed for not knowing the curse of Chemical X-induced inhumanly high metabolism.

“Hey, Brick?”

Brick looked up from their feast of eggs and bacon and pancakes. “What?”

Logically speaking, he’d only called her gorgeous and smart and amazing because she was those things, objectively. But there was no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He flushed and played it off like it meant nothing. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Logically speaking, nothing lasts forever, but they took their time anyway. What was the rush?

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 12

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3,191 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Also on ff.net and AO3. Note: I haven't actually read either of the books referenced in this chapter, but they came up when I was doing research and seemed to fit so I threw them in there.

Scars are souvenirs you never lose The past is never far Did you lose yourself somewhere out there Did you get to be a star

We grew up way too fast And now there's nothing to believe And reruns all become our history

-Goo Goo Dolls, "Name"

————————– 

Then. On Monday, Tim went to the library as usual once classes were over, but with a different purpose in mind than simply secluding himself in studies.  …That is to say, he wouldn’t be by himself this time. He wondered why he even agreed to this. That knock on the head must have scrambled his judgment – that was the only explanation he could think of for permitting himself to be possessed by such an insane notion. When he reached the agreed-upon meeting place though, there was someone else sitting at the table instead of the person he expected.  She had short, pitch black hair – sleek and strict – a style resembling Annie’s but with a widow’s peak; far darker bangs parted in the center, pulled back taut by a barrette. In addition, her skin was much more pale in comparison, emphasizing midnight mascara and lips.  Both her chin and slanted eyes were sharper, piercing pupils snapping up from her book to stare straight at him with such intensity he flinched on instinct.  He’d never seen anyone react so immediately to his presence. “Uh… Hello?” She eyed him with suspicion, silent and unmoving.  Statuesque. “Sorry to bother you, but… I’m supposed to be meeting someone here soon…” Again, no response. Tim didn’t know what to do. He thought about just giving up and turning tail (hey, can’t say he didn’t try at least), though somehow the prospect of presenting his back to her seemed like a dangerous idea.  He was about to retreat in reverse by slinking slowly into the shadows – safety – of shelves when a pair of hands suddenly emerged from behind him, blocking his vision. “Guess who~?” “Gah!” He whirled around in a panic, almost about to punch the invader to his personal space when he saw it was – of course – Stephanie.  The librarian sternly looked up from the counter at the loud disruption and pursed a finger to her lips, shushing. “Fuck- don’t do that,” he hissed with a sibilant shiver, clutching his rapidly beating breast. “…Sorry,” she whispered back, contrite. “It’s okay,” he muttered with a heavy sigh.  “Just give me some warning next time.” Meanwhile, the seated spectator was still watching the two intently, stony view shifting back and forth between them.  Tim felt even more uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze, and was about to suggest they move to someplace else when Steph waved to the glum girl in gleeful greeting. “I see you’ve met my roommate,” she chirped as she bounded over, cheerfully clasping hands on the sculpture’s stiffened shoulders.  “This is Cassandra, but you can call her Cass.  She doesn’t say much, but she’s a nice girl.  I hope you don’t mind if she joins us for today.” As she briskly babbled introduction in lieu of the stranger herself, who still had yet to speak, Tim felt he was starting to understand how Steph was able to put up with his own severe lack of social skills. “Um… Okay.  Sure.” ��Awesome.  I’ll be with you guys in a sec, just let me finish shelving these books.” She bustled off again, leaving Tim alone with Cassandra before he could even say anything. Defeated, he laid his bookbag on the table and took the chair diagonally across from her, not wanting to remain directly in her field of vision.  She continued to follow his movements closely though, keeping sight trained on him as if a hawk tracking its prey – rigid and unwavering.  …It was starting to seriously creep him out. “So, er… What’s that you’re reading?” He blurted out in a feeble endeavor to fill conversation. Mechanically, she raised the cover so he could see.  Judging by the winged figure in frilly jeweled fashion painted next to a medieval knight, both holding what appeared to be fanciful masks, it looked like some kind of fantasy young adult fiction novel. “I… see.  Is it interesting?” She simply nodded, before (blessedly) returning attention to her reading material. … Can I go now? As the suffocating silence stretched on, Tim wasn’t sure if the situation was any better than before. Though her scathing appraisers were now fully fixed on the page in front of her rather than him, they didn’t seem to be making any progress.  …Which he supposed only made sense, given the orientation of the subject. …Should I let her know she’s holding that book upside-down? To his surprise, a rosy tint developed on the other’s complexion as she subtly flipped the tome to the correct position.  Odd, he was sure he hadn’t said that statement aloud.  …But then, reality was such a fickle thing these days. Yet, even though the volume was righted, her focus still didn’t seem to advance at all.  He mused idly if she was actually absorbing any of it. Don’t tell me she can’t actually read. “I can read.” Tim startled at the unanticipated answer.  …Okay, this was really getting weird.  He definitely hadn’t said anything that time.  Given that the supposed responder still hadn’t budged an inch, he began to doubt whether he was really hearing things… Before he could decide whether to inquire further out of sheer curiosity, Stephanie conveniently showed up at that precise moment, arms inflated with textbooks. “Back!  Sorry about that.” She plopped the heavy publications and herself down, insinuating cozily between the two, apparently without noticing the aura of awkwardness permeating the air. “Shall we get started then?” “Y- yeah.” Tim cast one more confused look at Cassandra before attempting to apply concentration to his other company instead.  It was difficult when said study partner’s own awareness kept wandering though, growing bored and fidgety within minutes.  In the corner of his periphery, he could sense the third party’s irises still peeking at him from over the pages as well, albeit remaining mute throughout the entire period. By the end of the (exhausting) hour, Tim had managed to at least hammer in a few concepts.  As they finally stood up and started gathering their things, Stephanie sheepishly apologized for her short retention span, and promised she’d be more attentive next time.  Meanwhile, Cassandra quietly shut her text and rose, maneuvering fluently – like lighter fluid, hazardous and almost undetectable – around the desk to approach Tim.  To both his and Steph’s astonishment, she leaned in alarmingly close, lifting delicate digits to lightly touch his forehead.  He swallowed apprehensively as she scrutinized his mystified expression, as if searching for something. After a bewildered beat, she lowered her hand, and placed the paperback she had in his. “Here.” He blinked at her in bemusement. “Read it.” She merely instructed, before departing without another word. “…What the heck was that about?” Steph pondered, scratching her hair. Tim shrugged.  “Beats me.  You know her better than I do.” “Yeah, but I have no idea why she does stuff sometimes.”  Stephanie paused, contemplating with a half-anxious, half-amused countenance.  “Hey, maybe she likes you.” Tim blushed, busying with packing away his possessions again. “Yeah, right.” … As he lay on his dorm bed later though, looking at the lent item against the light, he reflected on the strange glance and gesture she gave him.  It wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced before.  It was as if the cold contact infiltrated deep into his soul, chilling to his very core… Conner came in then, bearing a broad grin. “Yooo Timbo, so how’d it go with that girl?” Tim shrugged, sitting up. “…She brought her roommate along.” The other boy elevated an eyebrow. “Dude.  That’s a bad sign.  Inviting someone else on the first date means you’re totally in the friendzone.” “I told you, it’s not a date.” “What is it then?” Tim exhaled, shaking his head. “…I don’t know.” Conner crossed over to clap a thick paw on Tim’s shoulder. “Lighten up, man.  You’ll win her over, don’t worry.” He elbowed with a wink and cheesy thumbs-up, and Tim rolled his retinas, but didn’t say anything. Conner’s eyes caught the object in the other’s lap, and he plucked it up without warning, wrinkling his nose as he examined the lacey title. “The Black Swan?  Since when do you read chick lit?” “It’s not mine,” Tim defended hastily.  “Steph’s roommate told me to read it.  Now give it back.” Tim made a swipe for the article, but Conner easily kept his extended muscle out of the shorter one’s reach as he flipped teasingly through the embarrassing narrative, reciting passages aloud with gusto. “‘Odile watched her father's back, swallowing involuntary bitter tears of disappointment and rejection, feeling her head droop a little as her heart sank with dejection.’” “Will you shut up?” “‘If she could have wept, her tears would have burned furrows down her face, so bitter were the dregs of degradation that she drank at that moment.’  …God, who writes this stuff?” Tim grimaced as he made another desperate effort to grab at the entity.  In the midst of their scuffle though, two tags secretly tucked into the spine slipped out from between the sheets, landing at their feet.  They both blinked and bent down to pick one up each, puzzled by the bizarre bookmarks. They were playing cards. Conner glimpsed up from the Ace of Clubs he was holding towards Tim, whose eyes were expanded wide with shock and – horror? – as his hand began shaking. “Hey, you okay, man?  What’s wrong?” Gulping, Tim gradually rotated the thin cardboard around to reveal its front: not a number or face… but a Joker. Anger and concern promptly carved onto Conner’s visage. “What the hell is this?  Some kind of sick joke?” Tim said nothing, as he peered down at the scarlet diptych design of mirrored angels and demons on the backside to find a brief note written in bold, black marker: Park.  4PM. Biting his lip in baffled frustration, Conner revolved his own cue around to discover a much longer message.  His brow furrowed as he tried (rather unsuccessfully) to pronounce the alien language it was inscribed in. “‘Rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno’ – what is this, French?” “It’s Latin,” Tim clarified.  “’A rare bird in the lands and very much like a black swan.’   It likely refers to a recent theory published by Taleb.  It’s a metaphor to describe an event that comes as a surprise, that’s hard to predict since it’s beyond the realm of regular expectations, and has an extreme major impact as a result.  Afterwards, it is rationalized by hindsight, as if it could’ve been anticipated if the relevant data were available – but this only becomes apparent in retrospect.  The phrase itself was coined by the ancient poet Juvenal, back when people thought black swans didn’t exist and that such an abnormality was impossible. It was only later proven wrong when the first one was discovered in 1697.” Conner blinked vacantly at Tim, looking as lost as he always did whenever the other went off on an encyclopedic (if perhaps slightly pretentious) tangent. “So…  What does it all mean?” “I don’t know,” Tim admitted as he took the pair and headed determinedly over to his computer, booting up the system.  “But I’m going to find out.” He navigated to the browser window – keeping a weather eye on the worrisome memo as it unwillingly brought back bad memories – and did some digging. … By the time he was done with his research, the hour of summons was fast approaching.  He snatched his jacket and was out the door before Conner could even get a word in edgewise, racing towards Gotham Central Park. As soon as he arrived there, he stilled for a second at the entrance gate, surveying the tranquil scene of people walking casually to and fro: lovers holding hands, families enjoying late afternoon picnics and games of Frisbee or Fetch with their pets, children running joyfully to their parents across the grass – the latter giving affectionate hugs and pats before sending off with smiles to the playground, all while keeping a careful watch on their precious bundles from a distance. Tim spotted Cassandra sitting by herself on a swingset towards the outskirts, exuding a gloomy atmosphere that likely aided in deterring any nosey youngsters. He neared cautiously, observing her glide like a gentle pendulum for a while, before she slowed to a stop and looked at him finally. “You came.” Dispensing with preliminaries, Tim cut straight to the chase. “How did you know who I was?” Cassandra smiled softly. “The way you move – it resembles him.  No openings, always on guard, not a single wasted motion…”  She then added in a hush: “Plus, I read your mind.” Her head declined in apology. “Forgive me.  It’s not something I normally like to do to others, especially to someone I’ve just met. …There was such a dark cloud surrounding yours though, I- I couldn’t help it.” She dragged a heel through the dirt. “Besides, you know who I am now, don’t you?” Tim sat down on the swing next to her, repeating everything he had learned based on his hunch. “Several years ago, the Joker broke into a Cadmus facility in Arizona. He released five metahuman kids, who had been abducted from their families shortly after birth and raised as secret weapons for the government.  He took them on as his own protégés, calling them the ‘Royal Flush Gang’.  The strongest of them was named ‘Ace’, who possessed telepathic powers the likes of which the world had never seen before.  …’Ace’ reportedly died not long after of a brain aneurysm in the presence of Batman, who was the only witness, in a park not unlike this one.” Cassandra merely nodded affirmatively. “…He helped you fake your death, didn’t he?” “It was the only way to free me completely from Cadmus’ clutches.  Otherwise they would keep hounding me forever.” She gripped the chains bitterly. “He sent for an expensive foreign doctor who performed the surgery in secret.  Afterwards, he gave me a choice: I could stay and be a part of his team, or I could live peacefully on my own. …I chose this.” Tim afforded her an odd look, thinking how close he evidently could’ve been to having an actual “sister” his age. “…I’m guessing ‘Cassandra’s’ not your real name either.” “It is the name he gave me.  After the Greek prophet from mythology.” “Can you actually see the future?” Tim questioned, genuinely intrigued. Cass regarded the horizon, as if squinting into some sort of far-off void. “What I see are… ‘possibilities’.  Infinite paths our lives could’ve taken, had we made different choices.  If just the slightest factor changed course.  ‘Alternate realities’, if you will.” She told him, about a world where there weren’t just two Robins, but a third Robin and then a fourth, a world where Barbara was the one shot and paralyzed instead of Dick, where Joker lived and he died and came back to life and his name wasn’t Tim it was- “Stop.  I’d rather not hear any more.” Tim prolonged a palm to halt her crazy-sounding speech, grasping his aching skull in the other. “I’m not saying I totally understand or believe you, but basically what you’re saying is… ‘Something’ was bound to happen sooner or later.” “…If that is how you wish to interpret it.” She removed her limbs from the links, resting on her legs instead. “I am sorry, for what he did to you.  The… things I saw inside his mind, they were so terrible, I should’ve known better than to leave him be.  I… should’ve ended him when I had the chance.”  Her knuckles clenched, impressing into her thighs. “Even though they trained me to use my powers to kill, I- I couldn’t.  I didn’t want to.” Tentatively, Tim reached out to wrap his own hand soothingly around her wrist. “Hey, that’s not on you.  It’s not your fault.  None of it was your fault, including-”  He hesitated. “-What happened with your parents.” He heard an abrupt wailing coming from the court where a kid had tripped and fallen from the bottom of the slide, scraping her knees on the wood chips.   Her mom and dad hurried to her side, cooing and consoling as they stuck numerous kisses and band-aids with colorful cartoon kitties and pretty princesses on them to the boo-boos.  Turning, he saw there were tears rolling down Cassandra’s cheeks as she unfurled her fist, knotting fingers into the comfort of his. While her nails were startlingly long, she took care not to wound his flesh, closing just tight enough to exchange warmth. “You and I… are similar.  I don’t mean just because of Joker either.”  She meditated off into that empty space again.  “The two of us are anomalies.  Outliers.  Outsiders. We don’t fit into the grand scheme.  We’ve always been… ‘different’.  We don’t ‘belong’.” Tim wasn’t sure exactly what she was talking about.  But he took a stab at alleviating the mood anyway. “I guess you could say we’re… ‘Wild Cards’?” She stared at him. “…Sorry, bad joke.” And people say I’m humorless now. Cass looked a little put-off as she pouted, and he winced, remembering she could hear what he was thinking as well.  He swiftly opted to switch the topic instead. “You cannot tell Stephanie about any of this.” “I don’t intend to.”  Gray eyes narrowed with gritty resolve as her voice dropped to a grave mumble, digging her toe into the earth and gravel.  “Someone like her should not know of the horrors we’ve been through, the darkness that we come from.  The number of evil sins we’ve committed.  …It will only lead to causing the same kind of pain in the end.” Her face contorted obliquely as she said this, ominous and foreboding. Breathing out, she monitored the fading violet brightness of the sun as it started to set. “Stephanie… is light.  A ray of hope.  She’s the first person I’ve met who wasn’t instantly afraid of me, but accepted me right away for who I was. She’s the first real ‘friend’ I’ve ever had.  …I would never do anything to hurt her.” She looked down at their connection, as if realizing the implication just now, and nervously began to relinquish.  Tim didn’t let go though.  Something she had said triggered a thought in the back of his conscience, and he stood up, coaxing mildly. “Come on.  There’s someone else I think you should meet.” Timidly, she trailed after his tow.  Whilst they stood there waiting for the bus, he overheard a passing elderly duo remark wistfully on that “cute young couple”, which in turn urged him to be the one to impulsively liberate this time.  As they both coughed and avoided each other’s eyes, Cassandra spoke up in a somewhat troubled tone. “There’s… something else I should mention.” “What?” “When I… looked into your subconscious, I saw an even greater darkness buried deep down.  I can’t explain it, but… I fear it may consume you someday.”  She frowned in vexation at her inability to identify, to express.  “…It bears strong resemblance to him.” Though he was afraid to ask, Tim did so anyway. “Who?” She gave him an ambiguous look, constricted and conflicted dots overwhelmingly obscure. “Both.”

————————–

And now we're grown up orphans That never knew their names We don't belong to no one That's a shame But you could hide beside me Maybe for a while And I won't tell no one your name

[inyournightmares97]

Antipathy, part six

In which Park Jinyoung, a possibly murderous cat hybrid, makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Warnings: Possible strong language and hybrid!Jinyoung. Light steam. 

Word Count: 3.1k

part one  part two  part three  part four  part five  part seven  part eight  part nine

You leaned back against the sofa, feeling slightly drowsy.

Jinyoung had already fallen asleep with his head in your lap. You had never imagined that he could be so cuddly but his cheek was pressed against your knees, one arm wrapped around your legs as he slept soundly. He seemed to be sleeping a lot today, and you suddenly wondered if he’d been getting enough sleep for the past couple of days. It probably hadn’t been easy to adjust to a new place.

You were running out of cartoons to watch and the afternoon was getting on, when you phone suddenly rang. Jinyoung stirred slightly at the sound of your ringtone but you answered quickly, gently patting his head to put him back to sleep.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey! What are you up to?” Nari asked cheerfully.

You shrugged lightly. “Nothing, I’m lazing around and watching television. Is your boyfriend still working Saturday nights?”

Nari pouted. “Excuse me. I don’t only call you when my boyfriend is busy-“

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, maybe I do. It’s not like you have anything better to do, right? Let’s go get drinks, there’s a new bar that opened up near my place and they’re giving out free drinks for ladies. That means no sleazy guys hitting on us and trying to buy us drinks, we can just get drunk and release our stress! Doesn’t it sound amazing?” she gushed. Nari had an eerily accurate sense for knowing exactly when you needed to release stress. To be honest, drinks sounded good. You had been bottling a lot of stuff inside and releasing it with drinks seemed fun.

“Just the two of us?” you clarified.

“Why, do you want to bring someone?”

You glanced down at the hybrid sleeping in your lap. Jinyoung’s breathing was soft and steady, his warm breath tickling your legs as he snuggled closer to you. Part of you didn’t want to get up, because it meant he would let you go. You couldn’t exactly bring Jinyoung to the bar because most drinking establishments didn’t allow hybrids. Alcohol affected them more strongly than humans, and nobody wanted to deal with hybrid bar fights. They got extremely ugly and usually involved bloodshed.

You bit your lip and sighed into the phone.

“Never mind. I’ll meet you at your apartment in like, two hours?”

“One hour. They stop serving free drinks after a while and I’m too broke to pay for my own.”

You hung up, and tossed the phone onto the sofa. Then you looked down at Jinyoung. You let your fingers run through his soft hair once more, before patting his shoulder and leaning down to whisper into his ear. “Jinyoung? Hey, Jinyoung. I need you to wake up…”

He opened his eyes sleepily and looked up at you. Jinyoung’s cheeks flushed pink when he realized how tightly he had been holding onto your legs and he moved away quickly, rubbing his eyes. You grinned and smiled down at him, patting his head. “Did you sleep well? Sorry I had to wake you up. I’m heading out to meet Nari…”

Jinyoung sat up and blinked at you. “Oh, okay.”

You noticed his ears droop slightly as you stood up and went into your bedroom, grabbing your towel to take a quick shower. Nari always got really dressed up when the two of you went out drinking so you had to put in a little effort in order to not look underdressed beside her. But there was hardly any time to get dressed up and you knew Nari would be furious if you were late. She took drinking outings without her boyfriend very seriously.

“Jinyoung! Can you help me?” you called out, desperately.

Jinyoung trudged into your room, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you in a very pretty top and heels. He’d only ever seen you dressed in sweatshirts and jeans, and you noticed his gaze flicker from your head to your toes briefly before landing on your face. Jinyoung gaped at you for a few moments, before nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“You… you look nice,” he mumbled.

You smiled, noticing how his cheeks had turned slightly pink. Was he usually this shy? Jinyoung’s nervous gaze was making you feel a little flustered and you didn’t have the time. Besides, he was a hybrid, he couldn’t possibly be attracted to you! You plugged in your hairdryer at your dressing table and held the machine out in his direction. “Can you help me dry my hair? I need to do my makeup and Nari’s going to be furious if I’m late. She’s probably calling me already.”

Jinyoung nodded, reaching out to take the device from your hands. You turned to face the mirror and began dabbing foundation onto your skin, while Jinyoung hesitantly lifted the hairdryer up to face your damp hair. You could see his hesitant expression through the mirror and blinked.

“Jinyoung?”

He flushed red. “Uh, I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Just point it at my hair, it’s not that hard. You can’t really do it wrong or anything,” you replied dismissively. You were focusing on spreading the foundation on your skin and you still needed to do your eyes and lips. Jinyoung bit his lip and pointed the hair dryer at your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, using his hands to softly move the damp locks aside as he blow dried them. You found yourself smiling when you noticed him in the mirror and saw how focused he was on doing such a simple thing.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, so you should probably just order takeout for dinner?” you told him as you carefully applied mascara to your eyelashes. “Is that okay?”

Jinyoung didn’t take his eyes off your hair, gently moving one section aside to blow dry the rest. He was biting his plump lips as he concentrated. “Huh? Yeah, okay.”

“Which lip gloss do you like better? The sparkly one or the dark one?” you demanded, holding up two tubes. Jinyoung stared at them for a long moment, his eyes flickering nervously from your lips to the tubes, and then back to your lips again. His fingers stilled in your hair. “T-the sparkly one?”

“Good call,” you muttered, opening the bottle and swiping the brush across your lips. You looked yourself over in the mirror and then glanced up to meet Jinyoung’s eyes. “My hair seems dry enough, right? Thanks so much for helping me out, you’re a sweetheart.”

Jinyoung lowered the hair dryer, looking slightly disappointed. “Uh, that’s fine-“

“I’m going to run,” you replied, leaping out of your chair and grabbing the purse that was lying on the bed. You smoothed down your clothes and hair, before smiling at Jinyoung, who was still gaping at you silently. “I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

He nodded silently, watching you hurry out of the apartment.

--

You and Nari had a bunch of cocktails at the bar, while you both drunkenly whined about your lives. She talked about how her boyfriend was always working and never seemed to have time for her anymore, while you complained about your Economics professor and how you were probably going to fail the class that you had been working so hard for. It had been a while since the two of you had talked things out (albeit the conversation might have flowed better if you were more sober), and it felt nice.

“How are things with Jinyoung? Do you still hate me for making you take care of him?” Nari wondered.

You bit your lip and smiled at the thought of Jinyoung. “He’s okay, I think.”

“I knew if anyone could crack his shell, it would be you. He had the same look in his eyes when I picked him up from the shelter that you had when I first met you. You know that look? That I want somebody to love me but I’m too afraid to ask or expect it from someone look? Poor Jinyoung’s been carted around a bunch of different shelters and adoptive homes in the past couple of months, nobody ever seems to love him enough. I felt like you could do it.”

You stared at her, brain slightly fuzzy. “Wait.”

“What?” Nari asked lightly.

“You told me you just wanted me to take him in for a week! You never said anything about wanting somebody to love me and all that shit!” you cried, pointing at her. Your mouth dropped open. You’d never imagined that Nari could be so sneaky and her happy giggle gave her intentions away. “You’re a horrible person!”

“No, I’m not. Hybrids can make you really happy if you let them. And I knew you would never adopt one on your own, so…”

“So you adopted one for me and forced me to take him in?”

Nari pouted. “Are you mad? Please don’t be mad! I swear I wasn’t just trying to shove any hybrid on you, I just got this feeling when I looked at Jinyoung, he reminded me so much of you! Do you know how difficult it was to make friends with you? You come off as pretty mean and closed off at first too, you know? So you should give Jinyoung a chance. Hybrids are really loyal once they get attached to their owners and they provide great emotional support.”

You looked down at your drink with a pout. “Jinyoung is kind of cute and sweet once you get to know him…”

Nari beamed. “I knew it!”

“So you’re not actually looking for a new owner for him?”

“Look. Here’s the thing. It’s only been three days. Give it some time, at least wait until the one week is up. If you seriously still want me to find him a new home then I will. But I’m pretty sure you’ll want to keep Jinyoung around before long. How does that sound?”

“Fair,” you admitted.

“Excellent! Let’s have another round of drinks to celebrate! We’re doing tequila shots this time, so grab those lemon slices, baby!”

--

It was almost 3 am when the doorbell to your apartment rang.

Jinyoung had been pacing the living room nervously for over two hours, his entire body tense as he waited for you to come home. True, you hadn’t said what time you would be back but how was he supposed to sleep when he had no idea where you were? He’d been debating waiting for longer or going out to look for you himself when the doorbell rang. He practically ran towards it, yanking it open and hoping to see you.

Jackson was standing in the corridor, half-carrying you. Your arm was thrown over the dog hybrid’s shoulder and he was propping you up as you stood unsteadily on your feet. You let out a happy, drunken giggle at the sight of Jinyoung and beamed at him.

“Jinyoung-ie!” you chirped happily, stretching your arms out in his direction. It made you stumble and Jackson had to hurriedly tighten his grip on you so that you didn’t fall to the floor. You were completely ignorant of how the dog hybrid was struggling to hold you steady because you were too happy to see Jinyoung’s adorable face. Wasn’t he cute? Has he always been this cute? He had such adorable pouty lips that you just wanted to kiss them. “Fancy seeing you here, Jinyoung-ie! Why aren’t you smiling? Aren’t you happy to see me?” you slurred cheerfully.

You expected Jinyoung to say something in return. What you didn’t expect was for Jinyoung’s eyes to narrow dangerously. He reached across the doorway and grabbed your arm, pulling you tightly towards him. You squealed as you lost your balance and immediately collided with Jinyoung’s hard chest. Jackson’s grip on you disappeared and after one slightly dizzying moment, you found yourself leaning on Jinyoung instead, one of his arms around your waist as he held you against him. You took a deep breath and inhaled his scent; he smelled like soap and something distinctly Jinyoung-like.

“Hey, careful!” Jackson cried, shocked when Jinyoung practically ripped you out of his arms. “She’s really drunk-“

“I can see that, get your dirty hands off her,” Jinyoung hissed angrily. You were shocked at the anger in his voice and you placed a hand on his shoulder clumsily, noticing that his entire body was trembling. Your cheek was pressed to his chest and you could almost hear an angry growl rumbling under the surface. “Don’t ever touch her again, I don’t want to see you anywhere near her,” Jinyoung snapped.

Jackson backed off, shocked. “Okay, relax, I was just bringing her home-“

Jinyoung hissed, and you looked up at him, pouting. “Hey, Jackson was just trying to help-“

“No, he’s not allowed to touch you-“

“He was being nice! Don’t be mad at Jackson, I asked him to bring me home because I was too drunk to walk here alone from Nari’s!” you whined, looking up at Jinyoung. Your view from below was kind of awkward since you were mainly staring at the underside of his chin, but you could tell that Jinyoung was still glaring furiously at Jackson. His ears were stiff and he looked ready to attack Jackson at a moment’s notice.

“Get out,” Jinyoung told Jackson firmly.

You poked Jinyoung in the chest. “No! Bad kitty! Don’t kick him out, be nice!”

“He’s leaving. Bye.” Jinyoung held you steady with one arm while he slammed the door shut in Jackson’s face. You gaped at the door in shock but there was nothing you could do. Jinyoung leaned down and gently lifted you up in his arms, carrying you into your bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stared at him, looking at the way his lips were pressed together tightly and his eyes were still narrowed. Jinyoung set you down on the bed and you collapsed against the pillows in an ungraceful lump.

“Are you mad at me?” you whined.

“Stay put.”

Jinyoung disappeared and you sank back against the pillows, feeling the room spin. Those tequila shots had been a bad, bad idea because now your stomach was churning and you couldn’t really think straight. Jinyoung returned a few moments later with a glass of cold water and shoved it into your hands.

“Drink,” he told you firmly.

You accepted the glass obediently, taking a long drink from it as Jinyoung moved down to the end of the bed and began taking your heels off your feet. You sighed happily and wiggled your toes as he removed the painful footwear and tossed it aside. Jinyoung then came over to take the glass out of your hands and set it on your bedside table.

“You should go to sleep,” he told you, before leaning closer to you. His frown deepened and he scrunched up his nose as he looked into your unfocused eyes. “God, you stink.”

You flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I probably smell like alcohol-“

“No, you smell like Jackson. It’s disgusting.”

Jinyoung placed his hand on your cheek and leaned closer. You stared at him blankly, your mind too muddled to comprehend what he was doing. Was he wiping something off your cheek? Instead, Jinyoung placed his nose at the crook of your neck and took a long, deep sniff. His lips brushed the skin at your collarbone as he spoke, and your entire body went stiff. “I can’t stand it. I need to get that smell off of you,” he whispered.

You could feel your throat tightening. “I could shower-“

“No.”

Jinyoung placed his lips over yours. You barely saw it coming, but Jinyoung’s lips were soft and warm and passionate. You could feel the desperation and the possessiveness as he leaned forward and half-lay across your bed, pulling you into his arms. Jinyoung smelled amazing; his gentle scent of soap and laundry detergent and hints of vanilla made you feel more light-headed than ever. He caressed your lips with his for a few moments, letting you melt into his arms.

You had never kissed anyone quite like this before. It felt so different, so desperate and when Jinyoung’s tongue slipped past your open lips, you gasped against his mouth. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue and he slid his fingers into your hair. You could feel Jinyoung’s hot hands roaming your body. One of them explored your back, roaming your shoulders and then moving down to brush the top of your ass, as though he wanted to touch and claim every part of you.

“Jinyoung,” you moaned against his lips. You couldn’t take it. Your body was trembling under his touch and his lips were making your head spin like crazy. He pulled away from you for a brief moment, his fingers releasing your hair and coming forward to softly brush strands out of your face.

“Shh, I’m not done yet,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can still smell him on you.”

You whimpered as his lips came down on yours again. They were slightly slower this time and you could feel a gentle purring coming from Jinyoung’s chest as he explored your mouth with his tongue. Jinyoung’s breathing was getting heavier and you could feel his warm breath on your face every time he pulled away and then leaned down to kiss you again. You weren’t sure whether it was thirty seconds or ten minutes; your senses were completely on fire. Finally, Jinyoung pulled away and stared down at you.

“Gone,” he whispered softly.

You stared up at him, eyes wide and head spinning. “Jackson’s scent?” you wondered weakly.

“Yes. It’s gone. You’re all mine now,” he purred gently, craning his neck up to kiss your forehead. You stared at him with wide eyes. What was happening? Had Jinyoung just kissed you senseless or were you dreaming all of this? Your heartbeat was thudding and you watched in silence as Jinyoung slowly extracted himself from you and got off the bed. “You should sleep, you’re still very drunk.”

You nodded. “Uh…”

“Good night,” Jinyoung whispered, his cheeks flushing red as he looked down at you, your eyes wide and your lips swollen from the kiss. You looked adorable and he could feel his heart swell, watching at you lying so innocently under him. “I should go,”

“Okay,” you whispered dazedly as Jinyoung stepped away from you, backing away to your bedroom door. He hit the light switch on the wall and then stepped out, leaving you alone in the darkness to process what had just taken place.

--

A/N: Well hello there, folks, hope you’re all doing great! This part was a load of fun to write and marks the descent of cute cuddly kitty Jinyoung to possessive angry feline JInyoung, lmao. Hope you all enjoyed it, let me know your thoughts!

[once-upon-a-storyy]

Isn’t It Lovely?- H.O. (4)

Summary:  Isn’t it lovely? When someone loves you more than anything else in the world. For Y/N the concept of love was foreign; even if she was adored by millions of loving fans. Love scared her, for a good reason too. She’d never been around it in a pure way. It had always been destructive, harmful. That was until she met a certain someone. A certain someone named Harrison.

Paring: Actor!Haz x Actress!Reader

Warnings: some angst, talk of emotional abuse later on, drinking

Word count: 2,444

A/N: Sorry it’s on the shorter side, but it’s very important for what’s coming up. We’re about to really get into the story, and I’m so excited to take this journey with all of y’all! Also, for some reason, Tumblr isn’t letting me put my moodboard up, so when that is fixed, I’ll add it in! Thank you lovelies for being patient! Updates are going to start being on Wednesday’s.

“Y/N,” a voice muttered, shaking her shoulder gently.

“Mm,” she groaned, shrugging the hand off. Giggles erupted around her as she curled further into the small plane seat.

“Y/N c’mon, we’re here,” the voice was louder this time.

“Ugh,” the actress groaned, stretching her arms out, her eyes fluttering open slowly, “What do you want?” She snipped, a small yawn escaping.

Harrison chuckled, “C’mon sleeping beauty, it’s time to disembark,” Y/N’s head snapped up at the accented voice, a small blush tinting her cheeks.

“S-sorry Haz, I didn’t, I didn’t know it was you,” she tripped over her words slightly, unbuckling her seatbelt. Her brows furrowed together, “Wait, where’s Tom and Chris?” her eyes scanned the aisles around them, not finding the other members of their group.

Harrison chuckled, leaning back, “They’re waiting in the terminal for us,” he fixed his grip on their bags.

Y/N nodded, standing from her seat, noticing the bags in his hands. Her eyes softened at the sight as she slipped out of the aisle, “You didn’t have to do that,” she motioned to her bag.

He shrugged, a smile pulling at his lips, “I don’t mind,” his gaze found hers, and the two held it for a lingering moment.

“We should probably go,” her voice was soft, barely over a whisper.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes still glued to hers. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “Shall we?”

She nodded, turning her head away in an attempt to hide her coming blush, “I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough,” she started making her way to the exit, a question nagging in the back of her mind. “Harrison,” she started once they were in the tunnel leading to the terminal, “Why did you stay behind to wake me and not Chris?” she bit her lip afterward, fiddling with her fingers.

Harrison blushed, keeping his head ducked down, “I, uh, well,” he stumbled over his words as they walked side by side to the looming door leading back into the airport. “I, well,” he sighed softly, shrugging one shoulder, “I don’t know actually. Just wanted to I guess,” his voice was almost timid.

Y/N was silent for a moment, processing his words. ‘Maybe Chris was right,’ she thought to herself. “Oh,” she nodded, not wanting to embarrass him further, “Okay then,” her voice was soft, comforting to the young man beside her. They stayed silent the rest of the walk.

“There they are,” Tom’s face brightened when he saw his friends walk out, “I thought you’d never wake up,” he nudged Y/N joking smile in place.

The young actress rolled her eyes, playful smile pulling at her lips, “Whatever Holland like you’re any better,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

Tom put a hand on his heart, mock pouting, “You hurt my feelings with these lies, darling,” he batted his eyes at her, trying to squeeze a hint of pity from her.

She raised a single brow, “If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, it’s not gonna happen,” she waltzed closer to him, placing a hand on his chest, “But nice try Holland,” she smirked, patting his chest before backing away, sending a small wink his way.

Chris laughed, shaking his head, “One of these days you’ll learn Holland,” he glanced at the young actor, who had a joyful smile on his face, “But I’m afraid today isn’t the day,” he started to follow after the girl, knowing she had no clue where she was going.

“It’s worth it!” Tom called, him and Harrison scrambling to keep up, “If it makes her smile or laugh, it’s worth it,” he shook his head, glancing at Haz, “Isn’t that right Harrison,” a sly smirk etched its way onto his lips.

“Huh?” Harrison dragged his eyes away from Y/N’s figure to focus back on his friend.

Tom and Chris both laughed, shaking their heads at the poor boy, “Mate, you’re so whipped,” Tom wheezed, eyes crinkling up as he laughed. Chris pulled away from the pair to go converse with Y/N.

Harrison glared at Tom, though they both knew it meant nothing, “Shut it Holland,” he muttered, tightening his grip on their bags. Tom continued to laugh and poke fun at his friend the entire way to the car.

-

“So,” Chris started once they got settled into the car, “We’re a little behind schedule because of all the fans at the airport,” a loving smile appeared on his face when he talked about his fans. “But, it’s not too much of a big deal. We get today to settle into our rooms, and tomorrow we have a full day of interviews,” Chris shook his head, glancing back and forth between Tom and Y/N.

Y/N looked over at Chris, dragging her eyes from the window, an awestruck look on her face, “Do you think we could like, I dunno, go sightseeing today?” She was nearly jumping in her seat, her features brightened in a way no one except Chris had seen before.

Harrison’s expression softened as he looked at her, noticing the little dance she was doing in her seat, chuckling softly as she failed to contain her excitement. Chris laughed, “Are you sure you’re even up for that?” He raised a brow in question.

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You sound like such a dad right now,” she flopped back into her seat beside him.

Chris laughed again, shaking his head, “You do know we have four days here right? One day to settle in, two of work, and then we have a free day,” he eyed the young girl, “I promise, you’ll be able to do everything you want to do,” he threw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug.

She huffed, her arms crossed over her chest, “Yeah, yeah, whatever dad,” she glanced up at him, biting her lip to stop the smile from spreading.

Chris rolled his eyes, patting the top of her head with his hand, “I like you a lot better when you’re sleeping,” he grumbled.

Tom and Harrison watched the two with curious looks on their faces. Well, Tom watched curiously, Harrison watched Y/N mainly, just like the love-sick puppy he was. “You know,” Tom whispered, leaning over to Harrison, “Nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t ask her out,” he glanced back at Y/N and Chris, who seemed to be arguing over something petty.

Harrison’s cheeks flushed, “Nothing’s gonna happen, Tom,” he shook his head, dropping his gaze, “She’s just getting started in her career, she doesn’t have time for a boyfriend,” he glanced back at his friend.

Tom scoffed, shaking his head, brown curls flying, “You can’t make that decision for her mate,” he shrugged one shoulder, deciding to let it be for now.

Harrison nodded, not saying anything else about it for the rest of the drive.

-

“Y/N,” a voice called, muffled by the door of the hotel room, “Y/N c’mon, open the door love,” the accent filtered through, causing the young actress to groan, snuggling her face further into the cloud-like pillows the hotel offered.

“Go away, ‘m sleeping,” her voice called, thick with sleep.

She heard a chuckle as the knocks kept coming, “Seriously Y/L/N, open up.”

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes as she dragged herself out of bed, H/C hairs sticking up with static. Her makeup had been smudged in some places, leaving streaks of black mascara across her cheeks. Grudgingly, she opened the door, a loud ‘huff’ leaving her lips. “What do you want?” She groaned, leaning against the doorframe. Her eyelids were droopy, begging her to sleep off the jet-lag.

Tom laughed at the young girls' appearance, “Wow Y/N, you look like you got hit by a bus,” he tried stifling his laughs, but his effort was in vain.

The young girls’ eyes narrowed at him, “Gentlemen as always I see,” she rolled her eyes, her head drooping to fall against the frame, a small yawn escaping.

“Well, I was going to invite you to the pool with Haz and me,” he gave her a once-over, smirk pulling his lips, “But now that I’ve seen you, I think it’d be better for you to stay in,” his face scrunched up playfully.

Y/N reached out to slap his arm, “And here I was going to invite you inside, but I think I’ll just go back to bed,” she smirked, pretending to close the door.

“Wait, love,” Tom called frantically, stopping the door with his foot, “Did I mention Haz was gonna be there?” He tried again, chocolate eyes searching her E/C ones.

Y/N eyed him, considering her options. The pool did sound like fun, well getting a tan sounded like fun, but she was feeling a bit jet-lagged. After a moment she sighed, her head falling back, “Fine,” she groaned, knowing full well that Tom was jumping up and down outside her door, “I’ll go to the pool with y’all,” she sneaked a glance at him, finding the actor grinning from ear to ear, pumping a fist in the air.

“Yes! I knew you’d agree!” He jumped once more, turning to head back down the hall, “You won’t regret it!” He called.

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the smile forming on her lips at his childish antics, “I’ll meet you at your room in twenty!” She called, shutting the door after her. She shuffled around her room, finally picking the suitcase that had been waiting by the door up, moving around to place it on the bed. The soft orange comforter made the room glow with the slowly setting sun reflecting off of it. She sighed softly, digging around her bag to find the simple black string swimsuit. Y/N moved to the bathroom, swimsuit dangling in her hand. She jumped at her reflection in the mirror, her face scrunching up, “Maybe Tom was right,” she shook her head, grabbing a makeup wipe to scrub the day’s makeup away. She fixed her hair, throwing it back into a messy bun before she changed. Satisfied, she grabbed a towel and slipped her black flip flops on before swiping her room key. Y/N threw the towel over her shoulder and left the room, walking down the hall a bit to Tom and Harrison’s shared room. “Tom!” She hollered, pounding her fist on the door.

She heard a startled yelp, and a loud thud causing her to laugh. “One minute!” A British voice called back. A loud shuffling could be heard, and she swore she heard a whispered argument take place, but the door swung open to reveal a grinning Tom before she could be sure. “Y/N, darling, so glad you decided to come,” he grinned, throwing the door the rest of the way open. He was already in his swim trunks, and she couldn’t deny that he looked good. His abs were prominent and very defined, she swore you’d be able to grate cheese with them.

She raised a brow at his behavior but shrugged it off. “Tom I literally told you twenty minutes ago that I was coming,” her brows pinched, confusion swirling in her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Harrison called, stepping out of the small bathroom, towel hanging off one of his broad shoulders. “I have no idea what’s gotten into him,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Y/N slipped him a small smile, “If anything, he’s being more Tom than usual,” she giggled, moving one hand to cover her mouth.

“Hey,” Tom pouted, appearing in front of the two, phone and room key in hand, “I can still hear you, ya know,” a single curl fell against his forehead, and Y/N had to refrain from moving it back.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, gaze moving between the two boys, “Are we going swimming or not?” A single brow rose, and she cocked one of her hips, choosing to ignore their eyes sweeping over her figure. “Guys,” she clicked her tongue, attempting to get their attention, “My eyes are up here,” her voice was a little harder, and their heads snapped up, a blush tinting their cheeks. “Idiots,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the door.

She heard the boys scrambling after her, tripping over their feet to try to catch up to her. “Y/N!” Tom called as he and Harrison sprinted after her, confused on how she was so far ahead, “Aye, wait up!” Rolling her eyes, she stopped in front of the elevators, turning around slowly to meet the two boys, eyebrow raised expectantly.

“We’re sorry, Y/N,” Harrison couldn’t meet her gaze, instead he locked his eyes to the floor, staring at the swirling pattern of black and white.

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Tom risked a glance to Harrison, who nodded, still refusing to meet her gaze.

Y/N sighed. She was very tempted to tell them it was fine, that it happened all the time, but there was something in the back of her mind that wouldn’t let her brush it off completely. “Look,” she started, glancing between the two boys, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. Her thoughts battled one another. One part of her wanted to tell them to never let it happen again, simply because it scared her, but the other part of her didn’t want to have to explain herself to them. She wasn’t ready to talk about it with anyone who wasn’t Chris. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around her torso, trying to make her as small as possible.

The boys risked a glance at her, noticing the slightly pained look on her features. She didn’t seem to notice them at the time, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. The two shared a look of confusion, not entirely sure what to do. “Love,” Harrison called softly, concern laced in his tone, “Are you alright?” Hesitantly, he reached out a hand to her but snapped it back as she recoiled from his touch. A look of hurt passed over his face, but she didn’t see it.

“Y/N, darling, what’s wrong?” Tom’s eyes filled with concern, not knowing exactly what to do. When she didn’t respond, he glanced over at Harrison. “You stay with her, I’m gonna go get Chris,” he started backing away. Harrison nodded and Tom took off at a sprint back down the hall, getting the only person he could think of that might be able to help.

Taglist: @sincerelymlg @theaphroditex @dee-rosemary @stardxstparker @heavenly---holland @all-american-fangirl @mobtomsgirl

[neo-kajatrash]

Nimble got walked in on crossdressing--which he knows there’s nothing wrong with, but he still freaked out, because that’s what he used to be bullied for and lost his hand over. But Sil (human belonging to @deezmo)​ was so nice and just held him and let him cry... so yeah I drew my goblin boy crying he’s only 19

That’s the short version anyway, but here’s a snippet of the story if you want to read the scene (written half by me and half by @deezmo​ in case you don’t know):

Nimble decided not to pick up his tools--at least for a little while. Besides, Sil told him to take a break, didn't she...? He'd spent a good amount of money on a gorgeous dress "for his sister," and he hadn't worn it in a while. He quietly, happily slipped it on and did his makeup carefully. Then he stepped out of the bathroom into his bedroom and did a twirl for himself in his tall mirror. The motion made his dress sparkle and wave, and he felt such a surge of happiness and belonging within himself.

He had black eyeliner and winged mascara, a dash of shimmering eyeshadow and shiny earrings--the one in his right lobe was a dangling one. The dress was white and sparkly everywhere, reaching his bare ankles, and the front of it was beaded with white and silver beads, wrapping around his neck in a snug collar and leaving his arms completely bare. He lightly brushed his mohawk with his hand, grinning and satisfied. He looked beautiful.

He plucked at the dress a little and stood in thought, twisting a little to watch it shimmer. He wondered idly if he could travel somewhere to attend some kind of party or event, and pose as a female...? But no, maybe he wouldn't pass... and it seemed much too complicated of a plan anyway--he should just stay home. He knew it wasn't a very big deal to most others (especially goblins) but still, it felt like one.

"H-Hello, Nimble? Uh.. It's me, Sil!"

He flinched when he heard the bell of the shop door, cursing himself for forgetting to lock it. But he panicked when he heard Sil's voice. He totally forgot she would have come round any time today.

"Shit, shit, shit..." he frantically looked around his room, as if a solution were to spring from the walls. Feeling stiff and not knowing what to do, he stared at himself in the mirror and simply called,

"U-uh... hey Sil! One minute!" He started to tug at the back of the collar, but it was difficult to unfasten with half of his fingers made of relatively flimsy metal.

"Alright! ...I'll be sure not to touch anything!"

Nimble hopped on his heels with frustrated effort, starting to just pull the collar over the back of his head and getting it stuck over his ears. He huffed in annoyance and glanced back in the mirror, realizing he was still wearing a good amount of makeup--and he forgot about the dress for now. He hadn't cared too much before when he wore light makeup in front of Sil, but now his fears started to grow. What if she laughed at him... or took her offer of friendship away...?

The corners of his lips turned down in a tight frown, and he miserably smeared the makeup on his right eye with the back of his hand, trying in vain to clean it up. He was so afraid of Sil seeing him like this that he didn't think to go into his bathroom to try to wash it off.

"...J-just, hang tight!" he called through his door, face and ears growing hot. What a damn inconvenient time for dressing up, he scolded himself.

In an attempt to pull the dress off without damaging it, he became unbalanced before he knew it and his mechanical hand shot out to catch himself at the end of his bed. The bed frame knocked loudly against the wall and rattled one of his shelves. He only turned just in time to see a pot of still-growing gummy leaves topple to the floor and shatter. Dirt and pieces of the pot scattered across the floor.

"Ugh--SHIT!"

Wondering what was taking so long, Sil was just about to poke something on a shelf when she heard something smash and Nimble curse. Maybe it was the fact that she had a new leg and felt a little like her old self again, that her reflexes kicked in and she hurried towards the sound. Thinking he was in danger and feeling a little panicked with the need to assist. However as she entered what was obviously his bedroom -going by the goblin sized bed- she noted with relief that he was fine aside from the smashed pot that had another one of those gummy leaf plants and was spilled over the floor.

It even took Sil a moment to recognize that the goblin in the room was Nimble. Her eyes widened a little as her brows raised in surprise at seeing him so dressed up. Of course she hadn't forgotten the time she held him and felt him wearing a bra, but this was different. He looked so.. stunning. He had obviously put in a lot of effort applying the makeup and she only now noticed as she stared in silence, that he had tried to hastily rub it off of one eye and he looked so upset. Like he had been caught doing something wrong and Sil thought over what it was that he had said about the people in his life in the past..

"I was never quite right either," he explained. "Usually either got made fun of, or told I was... I dunno... jus' disappointin'." He shrugged and looked up at her with a serious expression. "I never did anythin' wrong... I don' think..."

Sil felt like she could truly relate in some way to Nimble. Having wanted nothing more than to pick up a sword and wear armor to go off on grand quests. How amusing it was to her that such a similar thing could happen to another yet in an opposite way and to a goblin. Feeling her chest hurt as she suddenly felt that she understood, she held out a hand so he would stop panicking. Softening her expression with a small smile and brows pinched upwards. Wishing nothing more than to move closer and hold him but not feeling like she knew him well enough for such a thing, she calmly spoke instead, almost as if he was an injured bird.

"H-hey.. it's alright. You don't have to worry.."

Nimble gasped and practically jumped when Sil entered the room--he leaned down to hopelessly try to pick up the broken pot, but stood back up stiffly and faced her with quivering ears that soon drooped. He blushed furiously and stayed frozen, heart beating out of his chest as he looked up at her like a deer caught in a goblin trike's headlights. His happiness at seeing her using her leg so well was easily buried under his fears.

Without realizing it, he gripped his hand with his mechanical one, as if he were trying to protect it. But her words were so nice, and there was no laughter or hatred in it. Sudden cautious relief over her reaction made hot tears well up in his eyes, and he frustratedly blinked them away.

"S... sorry, I... b-broke my pot..." he stammered, trying to think of an excuse. "I... uh..."

Sil's jade eyes glanced at Nimble's trembling hands then back up over his blushing face. His large ears drooped and shaking and she felt her heart go out to him. His watery, rose eyes didn't go unnoticed by her as he blinked rapidly and she once more idly thought how lovely he looked. Wondering why she should think such a thing as he was a male and a goblin no less, Sil cast her eyes over the floor and the smashed vase. Only now noticing he was barefoot and obviously still flustered from her intrusion, she didn't wish for him to cut himself. In an effort to try and make him feel more comfortable, she tried not to look at him too much and felt her own face warming up. Really Sil? Focus, woman!

"Don't move.. there's shards of ceramic everywhere.."

Walking towards him while keeping her eyes on the floor, Sil avoided stepping on any shards. Even if she was wearing a shoe and her other foot was metal, she didn't wish to make any more of a mess. Making her way over to stand in front of Nimble and before she thought too hard about it, she placed her hands over his sides and along his ribcage and lifted him up a little. With a small huff, Sil gently sat him on the bed so he wouldn't cut himself. It was a lot easier to lift him in such a way than she did before and she was once more grateful to him for building her such a sturdy leg. Looking down at him with her soft smile, she continued to speak kindly.

"Do you have a broom? I'll sweep it into the corner so you don't cut yourself."

Against her orders, he took a step backwards when she came closer. Involuntarily, his heart leapt and thumped painfully when she reached down for him, breathing shallowly as if she was going to hurt him. When he only felt her hands around his sides and was sat on the bed, he failed to suppress an anxious sort of whimper--and he soon realized that Sil hurting him was a stupid thing to be afraid of... right?

He felt like his outfit needed to be addressed, but when she asked for a broom instead he just fiddled with his shaking fingers and watched her with wide, watery pink eyes.

"Mmmh..." he whined a little under his breath. "S'in the... closet," he mumbled softly, feeling tense and hunching over as he sat on the end of his bed.

"I forgot that... you were... coming. Th-thank you... for help--" his voice caught in his throat and he struggled for a moment, feeling a storm of confused emotions. Was he embarrassed, frightened, relieved...? He couldn't stop thinking about how he must look to her... covered in makeup, beads and sparkles. He glanced at what he could see of his reflection in his tall mirror, and this time he shied away from it--noticing how terrible his smeared makeup now looked. He fumbled with his dangling earring and pulled it out, then stared intensely at it as he held it on his shimmering lap.

"--helping clean it up."

He sniffed miserably and tried to rub more of his eye makeup off, still only smearing it further and feeling stupid. He was not ashamed of what he liked. But that didn't save him from the fear of being mocked, like he had been in the past.

Feeling her heart sieze up as she noticed and heard just how shaken he was, Sil put aside the thought of cleaning for now and just wished to console him. Reassure him that it's alright and she wasn't going to berate him for wearing such things. As she watched him seemingly start to deflate as he sat there on the bed and rubbing at the smeared eye makeup with his eyes still watering, Sil leaned down and gently gripped his wrist to stop him. Now that she was face to face with him, she felt her throat close up as she looked into his miserable expression and hoped he didn't whimper from touching him this time.

"Nimble.. it's alright.. really. I won't.. tell anyone if that's what you're worried about.."

Letting go of his wrist, she gently cupped the side of his face and ran a thumb over his cheekbone and along the corner of his eye in a small effort to rub away the smeared black eyeliner and glittery powder. Looking into his face with what she hoped was a reassuring expression as seeing him in such a state over so little of a thing had her wanting him to smile. Glancing down at the dangly, star earring in his lap, she brought her eyes back over his own. Sil spoke before she even thought over what it was she was saying, idly figuring it was alright to as it was the first thing that came to her mind when she saw him. He looked like a shooting star.

"You're beautiful."

Nimble's lips quivered when she stopped him from smearing the makeup more, flinching at the fact that she touched him in such an anxious spot--right near his only hand. When she touched his hot cheek, he didn't know what to do... He believed now that she wasn't going to ridicule him, and that surprised him because of her typical human culture. But at her last words, his ears fell limp again and he blushed even more, feeling a creeping sob rise deep in his throat. He felt such a swelling of acceptance, relief, and belonging... he didn't even realize before his face was streaming with tears. "...No one's e-ever said that ta m-me," he explained quietly, cursing himself for being such a crybaby and making his makeup even worse now. He shut his frowning mouth and wiped the tears that had pooled at his chin, sniffing and finally meeting Sil's gaze again. He didn't think it was physically possible to smile at her now, but his shimmering pink eyes showed his intense gratitude for such a simple, yet piercingly meaningful compliment. His voice was almost a whisper. "Thank you..."

Sil felt like her heart was breaking as he trembled more and tears started flowing down his face. She sadly did believe him when he said no one had said such a thing to him and she wondered if he had a wish to wear such a ensemble out somewhere. It was an extravagant dress and even she thought it was a waste that he had to hide in his room like this. Seeing his makeup start to run as he sniffed, she couldn't help herself this time and moved forward to hold him. Her arms under his and hands over his bare back, pressing him close to her like she had done so the night she woke up and cried in front of him. Sil once more spoke quietly in an effort to help calm him as she rubbed his back in small circles.

"It's okay.. it's alright.. You're allowed to cry.."

Not caring if he got tears and makeup over her shoulder, Sil gently moved a hand along the back of his neck and head. Hoping he felt more secure in her arms as she knelt in front of him, still a little taller than he was even like this.

"I've got you.."

Nimble was immediately grateful for someone to hold on to... he had many friends but he very rarely shared anything personal with them--and if he was honest with himself, he really needed a hug. He wouldn't have been able to stop himself even if he wanted to, and as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed his face into the human's shoulder, a long, breathy sob escaped him.

"I-I shouldn't... hhn... I'm sorry, we're suh-supposed ta... *sniff* work on ya leg..." he whimpered. "You're alre-ady... usin' it so well! Heh... B-bad timin'... on my puh-part..." He continued to frown miserably against her, feeling his whole body seize up with another sob and his hands moved up on her back. He felt so accepted and appreciated, and for some reason it hurt his whole being. He was embarrassed and shameful just before, but now he felt as though he really did look beautiful.

As Sil just held on to him and let him unload on her, She mused at how small he felt in her arms as he trembled and sobbed and was content to let him. It wasn't so bad and actually felt a little nice to be able to comfort him so much as she knew how such interests were hard to enjoy and often done behind closed doors. Wishing to help ease him some more and reassure him that she didn't judge him over such a thing, she chuckled softly and spoke warmly.

"It's fine, Nimble. Really.. and yeah.. I'm actually late because I got.. lost a few times. The leg is perfect though. And hey.."

Moving her hands to rest over his bare shoulders, she moved back from him so she could look into his tear-streaked face with a kind smile.

"If I'd have known.. I'd have brought my bag with me. I've got plenty of dresses I have no interest in that need a good home."

Sil idly rubbed his shoulders with her thumbs as she held him, moving a hand up, she gently moved the back of her fingers across his cheek. The eyeliner he wore had ran and smeared and she wished her presence hadn't upset him so much and ruined his makeup. She really did think he looked lovely and once more was confused over herself for thinking such things. Moving on from the thought, she ran a curious hand over the neckline of the dress and thought that goblin females must really like to dress flashy. {Males too now she knows.} The bead-work and sparkles were very intricate and caught and reflected light brilliantly.

"Hm.. I'd have to adjust them them a bit to fit though.."

Nimble sniffed loudly and shrugged a little when she pulled back, gratitude and happiness finally showing in his eyes as he let himself grin slightly.

"Hehe... I knew the l-leg was good. Let ya f-friends know about me. *sniff* Get my nuh-name out there... Heh..."

At the mention of her dresses, he felt a few more warm tears slide down his face, and his eyes widened with a furrowed brow.

"Ruh-really...? I dunno... what ta suh-say... I sold the rest o' what I had t-to buy this..." he motioned down at himself, then looked back up at her and swallowed, trying to regain some composure.

"I ain't a lady... I jus'... *sniff* I-I dunno..." Trying to explain himself made him suddenly get more flustered and afraid. His mind could reel right back to the times when he'd lived in fear of being hurt for wearing his sister's clothing, and the words stopped in his throat--he couldn't utter anything else. I like looking pretty, he explained to himself inside his head. And those kids... were just assholes... But no matter how many times he told himself that, it was still hard to believe. He cleared his throat and avoided her green gaze, not knowing wether he felt great or awful.

"Anyway..." he mumbled through his returned frown, "I never told no one... since I got ta Kalimdor... so uh... *sniff* th-th... mh-hnn--" he had one more sudden, soft onslaught of sobbing to himself, while also trying to rub the stinging makeup out of his eye and bending over.

"Th-thanks f'not... makin' fun o' me..." he muttered. Even though he was still crying, he felt remarkably better about himself with Sil's support. He couldn't believe he'd found such trustworthiness in a human warrior.

Sil had always made sure to keep up a tough facade in her life, never crying in front of others and hating appearing weak or worthless. Yet she had broken down in front of this goblin and seeing him in such a state had her own eyes start to prickle with tears. Keeping her hands over his shoulders, she slid them up and down his arms slowly in an effort to try help ease him and still speaking in a soft, calm tone.

"I would never make fun of you Nimble.. especially not for this.. I think.. I can understand.."

She tilted her head a little as she looked down at him for a moment, glancing around the room and spotting what she needed. Sil quickly rose and grabbed a few tissues, kneeling down in front of him, she gently rubbed his face with a small, concentrating frown. Moving her hand slowly, she carefully cleaned his cheeks and his jawline with a hand while she used the other to cup the side of his face. It didn't get rid of all the makeup, but it did help dry his face as yet more tears fell.

"Is-.. do you just.. feel more. Like yourself? Like.. um.. you want to feel beautiful?"

She just wanted to understand and hoped she wasn't prying and that by doing so, actually helped him in some way if he talked about it. He never had someone to, he said so himself and Sil couldn't imagine having to keep something like that to herself. She had friends to confide in and talk to. Her voice was void of judgement and just full cautious curiosity, not wishing to have him shy away from her and open up some more.

Nimble's brow stayed pinched as she wiped his face, feeling somewhat like a child but not stopping her. His lip trembled as she helped clean him up--for the second time, even. Sil had seen more of his true self than most anyone, and still she didn't treat him differently or hold any kind of judgement. He thought he may as well try to explain it to her.

"I... *ahem.* I dunno... there's a lotta expectation ta be s-sorta macho...? An'... I'm not. That's not everythin' though!" he quickly explained through the tissue on his face, looking a little worried.

"It's just... I do feel fine, wearing anythin'. But, when, it's... *sniff* when it's feminine like this, it... feels and looks more like... Nimble. Like there's more o' my insides showin'... like I d-don't gotta hide..." he cast his eyes down shamefully.

"But I g-guess I hide, still. Most goblin folk don't care very much, but... k-kids'll use anythin' against ya, and I guess I'm jus'... still a kid... I dunno."

He looked down at his dress, a small smile creeping back as he remembered how good he looked before he ruined his makeup.

"Doesn't change anythin' about me," he almost spoke to himself, now. "Just feels good, ta look pretty... but I'm suh-still... the same guy." He looked back up at her with a sort of lost expression, tears welling again as he thought of the question that constantly killed him inside. He spoke without thinking.

"Why didn't my folks understand that...?"

Nodding a little as he explained, Sil cast aside the dirty tissues onto the floor so she could sweep them up with the debris later. Taking in all that he said and wondering if that accident with his hand was a result of him being bullied because of all this. Nimble's question as he looked at her, had her still for a moment in troubled thought. Sil could somewhat understand all that he's gone through and still going through, just because of how he is inside. Looking off at nothing, she idly held both his hands in his lap, rubbing her thumb over the top of his real hand.

"I think.. some parents just have certain expectations of us.. they never.. never really see you as you own person but more of.. a stepping stone to get ahead in life.."

Knowing that she was speaking more from her own experience rather than trying to offer him an explanation of his own parents, Sil tried to think why and couldn't find anything.

"I guess we both got unlucky with who our parents were.. but it's not our fault and.. I'm.. sorry you feel the need to hide this..Kids can be so horrid.."

The warrior was sincere in that statement and hoped it didn't come off as too lame. She was lucky that most women in armor and performing the roles and duties of men wasn't all too frowned upon and she felt a little blessed for that and wished the Nimble didn't have to hide. In an effort to try and make the conversation lighter again, Sil smiled warmly once more as she spoke and gently squeezed his hands.

"And you really do look pretty.. even with most of your makeup gone."

Nimble nodded in agreement, feeling a little better now that his face was drier and he wasn't scared like he had been at first. But when Sil mentioned her parents, he remembered the news her priestess friend had told him--and he was about to say something, but remembered that Sil didn't even know that he knew that her father was dead... He didn't want to bring it up in case it made her upset.

Still he felt like he needed to hear what she said... about his parents whom she didn't know, and about it not being his fault. It was so easy to believe that he was at fault--if he was only someone different... But he remembered that it just couldn't be on him. He hadn't done anything to hurt anyone.

At her last remark, he suddenly laughed with a kind of happy sob. A smile leapt onto his face while his eyes were still sad, and more tears started to run down his face.

"Dammit. Y-you're makin' me ruin it even muh-more... hehehe..." He didn't want to take his hand away from hers to wipe his face, so he just let his head drop with a sad giggle. He couldn't believe she would say that, and likely mean it. It felt so important... "Thank ya, Sil," he mumbled bashfully, feeling beautiful again.

Then he lifted his head and glanced toward the mirror, exasperated at his ruined makeup.

"...Such a crybaby," he told himself.

[chamomilehoneytea]

“Out of Reach”

“Yano-chin! Hey, wake up!”

Slumped over her desk, Ayane only offered a muffled groan from the makeshift pillow of her arms. To wake up she’d need to be asleep first, and that was impossible with Chizu around.

“It’s only the first day of the term! You’re off to a worse start than me,” Chizu said, clapping a hand on her friend’s shoulder and shaking, to no avail.

Summer vacation had been far from rejuvenating. Her days were spent poring over complex equations, nonsensical English words, and obscure dates that all ran together like a cruel sequence of code. The few hours of sleep she’d granted herself had been wasted staring at the ceiling of her room.

And it was all his fault.

“Ugh, wake up for real this time – Pin’s coming!”

Ayane’s head shot up from her desk so fast that Chizu nearly fell over.

Did she have any stray hairs? Dried drool on her cheek? Smudged mascara? Her hands were at a loss what to fix first, and before she could decide, Pin was at the front of the classroom.

“So, how was your summer break, brats? No, don’t bother answering – I know it wasn’t half as good as MINE!” he yelled, opening the attendance book with a sloppy flourish.

“Yeah, right! I watched you get turned down at the convenience store! I’ve never seen a girl run that fast!”

“Whoa, no way! I saw him get rejected at the park! And the movie theater! How is that possible?”

“SHUT UP!! I’M TRYING TO TAKE ATTENDANCE!”

Warmth spread through Ayane’s cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat pressing against the windows. She lowered her eyes to the top of her desk, praying that no one had noticed her embarrassing reaction.

He’s still trying to pick up girls? When will that idiot learn…?

“KURONUMA!”

“H-Here!!” Sawako answered frantically, as if trying to match Pin’s energy.

“SANADA!”

“Here,” Ryu said, his tone sleepy and uninterested.

As Pin screamed through the rest of the list, Ayane found herself staring at him. She may have been tired, but for the first time in her life she had been desperate to return to school. After so many days of not seeing him, her eyes travelled eagerly over the gentle lines of his face, the dark tips of his hair, his long eyelashes…

“YANO?”

He was staring back at her, heavy brows raised and mouth open, like he was waiting for her to speak. The best response her frenzied thoughts could render was a straightforward, spontaneous:

“Huh?”

The whole class burst into laughter, submerging her in an unapologetic chorus of brays, giggles, and snickers. Even Chizu was covering her mouth in an effort to stifle her snorts.

How long had he been calling her name?

The intense heat in her cheeks spread to her ears.

Did everyone notice her staring? Did he…?

“Here!” she quickly cried, praying that Pin would spare her any further humiliation.

But he just smirked, turning his eyes back to the class roster.

“Yano’s break must have been so good, she’s still there!!”

Ayane shot him the greatest glare she could muster, though she found it strangely difficult to stay angry with him as he continued down the list of names. She was the one who’d let her guard down, after all…

I’m the idiot!

The nights were starting to cool, and the rain drying on the asphalt rose up in a weak mist over the streets. The cricket-song had long faded, but the sound of water dripping into drains filled the silence left by summer’s passing.

Sawako and Kurumi were walking home in the opposite direction, their long hair bobbing gently as they went. Studying together at the library after cram school was becoming routine, and for Ayane, it was a welcome distraction.

At home she was too scattered to accomplish much of anything.

The sight of Kurumi and Sawako striving towards a common goal never failed to motivate her. How often had she wished to be someone like them? Cute, intelligent, and above all, honest. In love with the same boy, they had both fought to make their feelings known, even at the risk of a painful rejection.

I could never do something that stupid…

Ayane smiled a little, turning her back on their receding figures. The walk to her house was long, too long, but she shortened the distance with quick, efficient steps.

A too-long walk meant too much time to think.

In the middle of studying for the most important exam of her life, her traitorous mind continued to circle around Pin. What he might tell her if he knew she was struggling. The feeling of his hands enveloping her own, his hand on her shoulders, his hand on her head. The memory of his touch never failed to reassure her…

Every morning he was in the careful curl of her lashes, the pat of blush to her cheeks, and the gloss on her lips. The face staring back at her in the mirror was the face he would see that day, after all. Pin would have doubled over laughing if he knew that she cared what he thought of her appearance. Last year she might have joined him, mocking the girl who wanted such a cocky, careless, coarse man to think she was beautiful.

Ayane’s cheeks flamed at such an embarrassing idea. How old was she? Thirteen? Five? With those fairytale expectations she felt young beyond her years. Besides, what would it matter if Pin thought she were pretty? He’d never…

She stopped in her tracks.

Never…what?

She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head from side to side to banish those reckless, terrifying thoughts.

What am I going to do? I need to get a grip, before someone sees me…

“Oh! It’s you, Yano!”

His voice washed over her like a pitcher of ice water, and her body went rigid at the sound. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes confirmed the horror of her ears. 

Pin stood not five feet behind her, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He eyed her with a certain suspicion, as if he were struggling to read her frightened expression.

“What are you doing out this late? Cram school was done hours ago,” he said, taking a step towards her.

Ayane quickly turned her head away from him. “I was studying at the library…”

“Ha! I figured as much. The way you were dragging your feet was a dead giveaway,” he said, and she could hear the cocky smile in his voice.

“No way! Were you stalking me or something?!”

“My apartment is this way too, idiot!!”

“That doesn’t mean–”

The words died in her throat as she turned around to find they were no more than a foot apart. He looked down at her with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“You’re studying so hard there’s no more room in your brain for comebacks!”

She took a step back, adjusting the bag on her arm. “I’m…that’s not…”

Her cheeks were burning, just like that afternoon at the train station. Being close to him had been much harder since then, despite the fact that she increasingly craved his company. How could someone like him make her feel so awkward?

“Let’s keep moving – I don’t have any extra meat to protect me from the cold,” Pin said with a smirk, rubbing his hands together as he walked past her.

“I-I don’t have any extra meat on me either, if that’s what you’re implying!” she stammered, running to catch up to him as his pace quickened.

The rain-darkened streets were empty and quiet save for the echoes of their coupled footsteps, soft and rhythmic, like a pulse. Her own heartbeat was aggressive and angry, so she kept her gaze fixed on the minute cracks in the pavement.

One look at him would kill her.

“Not too long before it snows,” Pin said, tilting his head back. “This year is really flying. Pretty soon you’ll be taking exams…”

“Don’t remind me,” she said, her shoulders slumping forward.

“You’re too young to be that tired!” he said, pointing a finger at her drooping posture.

“I’m doing my best, okay? Even when I sleep I dream about studying,” Ayane said, vigorously rubbing her eyes.

Too young. I’ll always be ‘too young’…

Pin suddenly turned away from her, hands clapped over his mouth. Panic ran cold down from her head. Had she said that last part out loud?!

“I-I can explain!!”

Then she heard them: the quietest of snorts.

“Are you…?”

The dam broke, and laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“You must really be tired…your…eyes…BWAHAHAHAHA!!!”

What the…?

Her hands shook as she retrieved a compact mirror from her bag. Flipping the lid, she braced herself for the worst.

The eyeliner and mascara she had carefully reapplied before leaving the library were generously smeared around her eyelids, and her lashes were thick and clumped together, sticking out at strange angles. She’d been so wrapped up in their conversation that she’d rubbed her eyes without thinking!

“You’d give Kuronuma a run for her money!” he cried, wiping a tear from his eye.

This wasn’t how she’d wanted him to notice her efforts, but seeing the way this laughter brightened his face almost made up for the initial embarrassment. She could see the happy little creases at the edges of his eyes, the dimple winking near the corner of his mouth…

Her cheeks flushed as she turned her face away from him again. It was all too easy to get caught up staring at him.

“Hey, your face is kind of red. Are you feeling okay?”

She froze in her tracks. How could she play this off?

“I-It’s nothing…I’m just a little cold – that’s all!”

They continued walking without another word, and for the first time that evening Ayane could breathe a sigh of relief. Pin kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, as if lost in thought, but he seemed to have accepted her explanation. There had to be a way to control her blushing, or this would be a very long year…

Since their meeting at the train station, she’d become aware of the strange sensations he produced in the pit of her stomach. Light-headed and queasy, with heart racing, she’d been sure she was deathly ill at first. But with that intense nervousness there was intertwined a euphoric excitement that was addicting. She suddenly craved his presence; every afternoon as she walked the halls of Kitahoro High, she fanned a flicker of hope that they’d meet. That she’d catch a glimpse of him, or hear his wild voice reverberating through the walls.

I really am pathetic…

She was startled out of her thoughts by a slightly scratchy material brushing past her cheek.

Pin stood close to her side, wrapping a long, marled gray scarf around her in tight loops; before she could faint from the shock, he had stacked it all the way up to her eyes. Sputtering and more red than ever, she ripped the garment away from her face.

“W-What are you doing?!”

“You said you were cold, so I’m letting you borrow my scarf,” he said, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jacket.

“I can see that…but…” she said, grabbing each end of the scarf, “…don’t you need it?”

“You can’t afford to get sick right now.”

Her chest tightened, and for a moment she was sure there were tears in her eyes. He was worried about her health…!

Turning away from him, she carefully re-wound the scarf around her neck, adjusting the oversized garment as best she could. It had a distinct smell that was difficult to describe. Warm. Soft. Salty. Deep. Her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed it in.

His smell.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just give me a trash bag,” she said, smiling a little into the warm knit.

“Crap! And the convenience store’s up ahead too! Give that back to me,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

“Thank you,” she said, looking him in the face for the first time.

His expression seemed to soften, and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. Rubbing the back of his neck, he resumed their former pace.

“Yeah, well it looks silly on you,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Then it goes great with my makeup,” she said, playfully blinking her smudged eyes at him.

He laughed, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. “You’ve got that right!”

As they neared her house, Ayane gradually slowed her steps. Their walks never felt quite long enough, but tonight the idea of parting with him was almost unbearable. Why? She would see him again tomorrow, and the day after. But in the halls of Kitahoro there were a thousand reminders that despite their affinity, they really were living in two different worlds. There, they conversed across a wide desk, she in her uniform and Pin with a pen in his hand.

‘What do you think of me?’

The question still haunted her months after that meeting. She hadn’t meant anything by it, not then, but with each passing day, the desire to know his answer loomed over her thoughts. He had probably forgotten that exchange, as well as every one they’d ever had. She seemed to remember every word he said, but there was no way he did the same for her.

Why would he?

Sneaking a glance at his face in the cold, unnatural light of the street lamp, she felt a deep ache in her chest. Being this close to him would make it all the more difficult to be apart in the morning.

It wasn’t fair.

“Here we are,” he suddenly announced, stopping in front of the entrance to her house.

Do you want to come in? Just for a minute? I could make us some tea, or grab you a beer? We don’t have to drink anything. Oh, just to talk. I have a few questions about the application process…I know I could ask you at our next conference, but I thought I should do it while they’re fresh in my mind.

We don’t even have to speak. Being near you is enough for me.

“Be careful on your way home. Sawako told me she felt a presence today as we were leaving the library, so who knows where it is now. Those spirits move fast,” she said, quickly stepping onto the walkway.

“I HAVE TO GO!!” Pin yelled, sprinting down the street.

That’s that, then. See, it wasn’t so hard to split up, was it? You were sad for nothing…

As she turned the key in the lock she was suddenly aware of the weight around her neck.

Crap! I forgot to give him his scarf!

Slipping the key into her pocket and dropping her bag in front of the door, Ayane raced back towards the street.

He was running so fast earlier, I probably won’t be able to catch up –

But there he was, no more than a few yards ahead. She was surprised to see he was walking slowly, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

He’s braver than I thought…

“Pin! Wait!” she called, unwinding the scarf as she ran to meet him.

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!” he screamed, stumbling backwards as she approached. “Stay away from me, Spirit!!! I’m just a humble homeroom teacher, I’ve never done anything wrong and –”

She stopped in her tracks. Spirit?

“It’s…just…me…” she said, bending over a little to catch her breath.

“It’s just you, Yano…” he repeated, staring down at her with a look of wary relief in his eyes. “You know, it’s not nice to play pranks on your superiors!”

She held out his scarf. “Unlike you, I don’t enjoy tormenting people! Keep better track of your things.”

“You’re welcome,” Pin grumbled, reaching for the long garment. “Kids have no sense of gratitude these days!”

“You’re one to talk! I ran all the way over here to give it back to you when it would have been so much easier to just throw it in the trash once I got inside!” she yelled, her tongue lashing at Pin’s ego.

“Why, you – !”

They stood there for a few moments, bristling but silent in the cold night air. Ayane stared at her feet in an effort to obscure her blazing cheeks from his gaze. That wasn’t how she’d meant to react, but only he seemed capable of drawing those biting retorts out of her…

I should apologize.

“I’m…sorry. Thank you for letting me borrow your scarf,” she said quietly, still staring at the ground.

He didn’t answer her right away, and for a second she wondered if he was actually angry with her.

“Thanks for returning it.”

His soft voice took her by surprise. She met his eyes in spite of her self-consciousness, but her heart still leapt at the sight of him.

“It was nothing,” she said, feeling for the bag that was no longer on her shoulder. “I thought you’d be halfway to your apartment by now.”

He clicked his tongue at her, wrapping the massive scarf around his neck. On him the knit looked completely normal; she’d been swimming in it! She couldn’t help but stare as he effortlessly adjusted it. His long fingers were surprisingly elegant for their size, and they captured her attention with their precise movements.

They really are beautiful…

“Is something wrong? You kinda zoned out,” Pin said, waving his hand in front of her face.

A new surge of heat rushed to her cheeks at his sudden proximity, and she shook her head frantically to cover for it. Did he have any idea how he made her feel?

“Well, you should probably head home now. I don’t want to be blamed for distracting you!” he said with a laugh.

You have no idea!!

“R-Right!” she squeaked, trying to look sincere. “Thank you again…for the scarf.”

“Night, Yano,” he said with a gentle smile, turning away from her and starting down the lamp-lit street.

“Good night!” she called after him.

Pin answered her with a brief wave of his arm. As his impressive shape sank into the shadows at the end of the street, Ayane was suddenly overcome with the desire to follow him into that dark unknown.

What would it feel like to walk with him all the way back to an apartment they shared? 

Her house would be just another building they had to pass on the journey home, and not the end of their time together. Unlocking the door, she would see their shoes, side by side against the wall; though she’d make sure that hers were neatly placed, she’d leave his the way he haphazardly tossed them on the floor. She would scold him as a formality, but secretly she’d treasure the little signs that he lived there.

Dinner wouldn’t be anything special, just the cup noodles they had hiding in the back of the pantry. But he would loudly praise her for it while messily slurping it down, as if the way she carefully poured the boiling water into the Styrofoam had any bearing on the taste. He’d grin at her across the table, laughing at something his students did that day or teasing her about the way her face still turns red when she holds his hand.

At night, he would begrudgingly let her ruin the hairstyle he was so proud of. She’d run her fingers through his hair, ruffling the thick strands and assuring him that he was even more handsome with it down. He’d press a soft kiss to her lips.

‘That’s why you’re the only one who gets to see it,’ he’d say.

Lying together on the futon, she would insist that it’s time they buy a big, Western-style bed. He’d remind her that the apartment was too small for that, and besides, futons were much cooler. She’d snuggle closer to him in the dark, promising that she’d earn a raise soon and that once she did, they’d find a spacious house with room for a thousand beds, so he’d better get used to the idea. He’d scrunch up his face in mock-anger, declaring that if he gets the raise first, they’ll buy the spacious house, but they’ll sleep on this very futon for the rest of their lives!

She’d pretend to fall asleep to his arguing, and when he’d eventually realize that she’d drifted off, he’d let out a tiny, exasperated sigh.

‘You’re such a pain…’

He’d gently stroke her cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

‘Night, Ayane.’

When she’d finally hear the sound of his quiet snoring, she’d move even closer, burying her face in his chest. She’d always fall asleep this way, submerged in his deep, familiar scent, with his comforting pulse beating against her cheek.

‘Good night, Pin…’

Ayane covered her eyes, shoulders quivering in the chill of the night. Her silly, embarrassing fantasies were just that: fantasies.

All her life she’d taken pride in her sense of realism. People might have called her cynical or pessimistic, but she’d avoided a great deal of pain thanks to her outlook on life. Without any expectations she’d felt free to live without worry.

It wasn’t failing if she didn’t try in the first place.

Then Pin forced her to doubt everything she thought she knew about herself. She’d dismissed his suggestions at first, but, sure enough, beneath that cool, detached façade was a deep ambition she’d tried for years to ignore. ‘Ayane Yano’ was not the mature, aloof woman with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

She was a teenage dreamer reaching for a distant sky with stars in her eyes.

Now, without knowing it, he was inspiring all sorts of strange new feelings in the depths of her heart. At first she’d excused them as a kind of pathetic admiration for the lessons he’d taught her over the years. But admiration didn’t make you long for someone’s touch the way she longed for his.

“Admiration” didn’t capture the racing of her heart when she caught a glimpse of him.

Walking back towards her house, she resolved to fight against those persistent feelings by studying harder than ever. Pin’s face would be forced out of her mind by newly memorized algorithms and formulas. The sound of his voice drowned out by English CDs on repeat. Diagrams, essays, and case studies would supplant every last trace of him.

She just had to make it to graduation, and then all of the confusing sensations would disappear. They wouldn’t see each other regularly after that, and if she were accepted to J University in Tokyo, she probably wouldn’t see him ever again. She would eventually forget about him, and he would definitely forget about her.

The thought should have lightened her mood, but as she passed through the front door, she felt sick to her stomach.

 What am I going to do?

Thank you so much for reading! (Now go rest your poor eyes!)

There have been massive developments in the last few months for ayapin, but I wanted to explore what Ayane might have been going through in the period between Chapter 107 and Chapter 111. The first part takes place when they return from summer vacation, and the second takes place in late September / early October.