#Gosh I hope this entire message makes as much sense as my brain thinks it does

[jinxofthedesert]

Hi there!!! It is the same anon that requested some fic recs ☺ Thank you so much! I may give them a read! They look very interesting! But tbh I'm looking for fics that deal with some more in-depth approach to the twins' psychology and character (I don't mind the romance. In fact, I think it's a really interesting plus to the story when handled well).

(Below this is the rest of the messages, put together. Farther down, below the line, are my responses)  

 I’ve usually seen that the twins are portrayed as soft, loving and caring guys with their partners without real motives for such drastic change of dynamics in their twisted personalities. I mean, the usual Valeska centered fic goes like this: they meet the OC in Arkham or during their childhood in the circus and for some reason they reunite in the present, and then it is just the twins somehow falling for them, changing their whole way of being and only wanting to bang the OC the whole time (without taking into account the lack of the OC's inner conflict about loving such twisted men, because these OCs usually are "sane" and good people that somehow are dragged into the twins' world and for some reason they just fall in love with them without questioning it). But for me the least realistic thing about these fics is that the twins become super nice guys all of a sudden. I mean of course there can be character develoment and growth (up to a certain point), but I haven't really found a story that contains such deep explanation. Let's face it, they're still psychos no matter what, even if they have a partner.  In the last season we get a glimpse of how Jeremiah treats Ecco, someone that he used to appreciate and care for deeply, and she still meant little to him. So it doesn't add up to me when the twins are magically turned into these super sweet caring guys while their twisted, evil and manipulative side is completely ignored. I am not saying they can't love, I am just saying that they surely have their own twisted perception of what love is 🤔 Sorry for my rambling, damn, it took soooooo many comments hahaha!!! OMG, Sorry!😂😂 I had a LOT to say 😂😂😂 But I just find these characters very interesting and I would love to read a story with a more realistic approach to the construction of their personalities (and their twisted way of loving too!). Let me know, please, if you happen to know about some fics/authors 😘 thanks again! 

- - - - - - - - -  Hi again, anon! I’m sorry my list of content in the previous ask wasn’t exactly what you were looking/hoping for. As of right now, besides the ones I sent you that may delve a little bit below the surface, I can’t think of a true ‘character study’ type story that I have read so far. But, again, I usually stay in the area of romance so I wouldn’t be surprised if there are such fics out there under a different genre.

I’ll be quite honest, it’s been a very long time since I’ve read any oc/(input character here), including ones with the twins. Normally, I forget they exist until someone brings it up or I stumble across one on Tumblr accidentally. I do agree, the twins suddenly changing for an OC (or anyone) can be a bit unrealistic but from my years of reading and writing, creating stories with such things is a bit of ‘wish fulfillment’ which, to be honest, isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes a reader just needs content that is kind of good-feeling type fic (though not in a sense of how murderous the twins can be but in them getting some kind of positivity in their lives, whether it be through an OC or another character in the universe). When I wrote Oc’s at the beginning, it was either wish fulfillment for me or simply just wanting these characters I adored to finally have some kind of happy ending which they probably did not deserve, at all. 

A reason you might not find such content is also because, character studies are hard. Especially if you don’t have a complete picture of the character. With the twins, a lot is just coming up with stuff, imaging their past and how it still affects them, even if, on the upper layer we’re shown, doesn’t portray those scars left behind. 

With Oc’s, they can usually be pretty hit or miss. It’s not like you’re taking an already known character with known flaws and putting them in your story. Those characters have a foundation already built. For an Oc, the writer has to literally make someone from the ground up, which is equally as hard without making them seem too whiny, too mary-sue like, or just too problematic. This can leave a lot to be desired which can create something unrealistic as well. That’s why I usually only look for content centered around characters from the show, instead of Oc’s; like with Bruce and the twins because canon-wise there is already something there (depending on how you look at it and write it). 

In regard to Ecco: firstly, I think it’s arguable what type of relationship she even has with Jeremiah when we first are introduced to them. We’re shown some concern on his end when she’s clearly been hypnotized but this can be seen as a boss concerned for an employee, an employee who he’s probably had for awhile now and is one of the very rare few who he trusts to an extent. However, we just don’t know much of anything about their relationship or past together. She might have hardly seen him, only contacting him through phone calls and text messages; she may have only brought him supplies through the maze and never was in his inner personal areas. This treatment is all possible given how Jeremiah is quite literally a paranoid mess before the spray, no matter how well put-together he appears. And, if we’re to compare this to his eventual obsession with Bruce Wayne, we can take a guess that Jeremiah and Ecco probably didn’t get very deep with this connection they had. Mainly because with just a few compliments, Jeremiah is invested in Bruce, something we don’t see with Ecco before or after the spray. So we have Bruce enter the picture (someone who has run into his twin on multiple occasions, a fact Jeremiah must know to some extent with his paranoia probably leading him to constantly check newspapers and the news for info on Jerome) and, if you look at things from Jeremiah’s perspective, besides complimenting him, Bruce looks at him and only sees Jeremiah. And this would be baffling to Jeremiah if he knows the affect Jerome has had on Bruce, for him to look at Jeremiah and not see his twin after everything would be just as big a compliment as anything because it’s differentiating him from his twin. Someone who has probably feared being compared to his brother, for people to look at him and only see Jerome (such as what occurs with Jim and Harvey only hours prior). Because of this, when compared to Ecco, we can deduce that either their conversations never went in such a direction, or she hardly had the extended physical contact to ever bring up Jerome or compare or compliment. If so, it’s possible with how Jeremiah is that something similar could have happened with Ecco. And this eventually leads into the spray where his only true attachment is not Ecco but with Bruce, especially, after his initial spray, Jeremiah’s hatred for Jerome is far worse than it had been before, making Bruce’s assessment of Jeremiah simply being himself and not his brother, far more endearing as well. So, in comparison to Bruce, Ecco means absolutely nothing to him, a means to an end. 

I’ll admit, reading content where the twins are somehow in a relationship (with an oc or canon character) while still being rather insane, are quite interesting. However, for stuff like that to work in a compelling and ‘actual’ way, characters like that have to be bent because these characters logistically working in that kind of environment may never be realistic anyways. This can be worked around of course, but it takes so much time and effort; even now, as I write my stories for Gotham, I’m still trying to work around how to make these ships work for the twins because they’re stubborn and although they have obsessions they, at their cores are not good people and while they may try, seriously try to better themselves, there will always be slip-ups.

I do agree, they can love but it would always be twisted in some way or another (look no further than Jeremiah with Bruce). They’re also a lot of fun to take apart and analyze or try and come up with a type of background that works with all the hints we’ve been given. Background-wise, the twins are really something a writer can make their own which is an interesting concept.

This turned more so into a long ramble of writing and Ocs and lots of Gotham lol but anyways, I wish I could give you a story to fit your needs. I quite hate when I have an itch for certain fics and I either can’t find them or the number of fics is so daunting that I don’t dare even try. I would recommend just going through them, possibly looking for complete content first, or ones with high hits or kudos (depending on the site you’re searching on) because I don’t have any at the moment I can suggest. 

(Honestly the ideas for the twins never stop coming lol, perks of their backgrounds and everything else being so hazy.)

I hope some of this message was at least interesting lol and I do wish you luck in finding good twin content that delves into their character or, maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will publish something like that soon! Either way, I hope you find something 😘

[nad-zeta]

Vincent - Art Class

Fandom: Ikevamp

Pairings: Vincent x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff Modern AU

Words: 1500+

Comments: Eeeeep and so the birthday bash week continues hehe! Eeeek so excited! Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤ ❤😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈 Hope yall enjoy!!

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:

“Would you like to go on a date?” Stood the eight little words written on a note attached to a pressed sunflower found in your jacket’s pocket after spending the evening with the friend of a mutual friend.

To say you enjoyed the evening with the golden sunshine would be a gross understatement. You had no intention of interacting with anyone at the party when you had initially arrived, yet, he found you there —hiding in the corner— stuffing your face with snacks and well, one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you had spent the entire evening with him.

The evening was perfect, well near perfect.

A shiver went down your spine as you remembered the death glances you had received from Vincent’s younger brother, man, that guy was scary, and he certainly made it no secret that he was less than impressed with you stealing his brother’s attention away. Neither the less you whipped out the phone from your pocket with a stupidly wide grin plastered on your face as you messaged Vincent your answer.

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

You drummed your fingers against your arms as you waited outside of the art building. Surely he would not stand you up? After all, he seemed sincere in his invitation. Then again, perhaps he had, like so many others, fallen prey to the dumbassery that was stupid bets with friends, which in turn lead to even more stupidly hurtful consequences.

Your eyes roved over the groups of people from all walks of campus life filing into the building. You were about to leave, turn around and call it quits, that is until the echo of a familiar soft voice could be heard accompanied by a heavily out of breath Vincent jogging towards you.

“I’m- so - sorry - I’m late,” came the huffed out words of the unfit artist trying to catch his breath.

You offered a friendly smile shaking your head, “not late at all. You’re right on time.”

Your anxieties seemed to melt away with the presence of the angel in the yellow cardigan and instead was replaced with a warm comfort flutter of the heart as he offered his paint-stained hands to lead you inside.

You found your seats easy enough, being placed in front of a large canvas, and handed menus to place your orders before the activities of the evening commenced. “Do you come to this kind of thing often?” you lifted your eyes from the cafe menu to curiously ask.

Vincent shot you a sheepish smile in response, racking his finger through his golden hair, letting go of a nervous chuckle, “Yes and no. You see, most of the time, I am on the other side of the canvas.”

Your eyes followed his line of sight to fall upon the art instructor for the evening before shooting back to meet Vincent’s china blues, “WAIT! YOU TEACH ART! That’s truly amazing!”

Vincent flushed a little at the comment, hand scratching the back of his neck as he looked away from your dazzling gaze, “Theo thought it might be a good way to gain exposure and encourage young new upcoming artists.”

He snuck a glance at you, only this time it was you who looked away, “now I’m a little nervous. I’m not much of an artist,” you admitted meekly, knowing your capacity for art went as far as a stickman with a triangle shape as a dress. On the other hand, you vaguely knew Vincent to be an artist of sorts, or rather, you gathered as much from word of mouth from mutual friends, but still, you’d never imagine he’d be at the level of teaching an art class.

Sensing your inner distress Vincent gently reached over and curled his fingers around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze with some words of wisdom, “If you hear a voice within you say, you cannot paint, then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”

You lifted your gaze once more to be met with intense blue eyes shining so brightly. You repeated the word to yourself, and slowly but surely, you found your anxieties melt away, “then I’ll try my best!”

You and Vincent were in a world of your own, food having come and gone, and the instructions of the art teacher blending into the background noise of the cafe. The two of you had gone against the grain of the class, painting your own creations instead of the prescribed bowl of fruit placed in the front. And try your best you did, as orange-amber hues turned to swirling blues.

You found the suggestion to paint each other a picture as a memento to commemorate your first date more fun than a stuffy old bowl of fruit. Soooo, you ventured onto your most remarkable feat yet, painting a bright yellow sunflower to match the bright sunny warm personality of your date.

”Hey Vincent, can you show me how to make that textured effect again,” you turned to ask, swishing the paintbrush in the air with a flick of the wrist, causing the unintentional spatter of bright yellow paint to hit your and Vincent’s face.

“Oh, my gosh, i-am so s-” your apology was interrupted by the sound of giggling bubbling from Vincent’s chest, bringing about a laugh of your own.

“You are so cute,” the words slipped from his mouth as he leaned in closer, fingers brushing across your cheek in an attempt to wipe off the paint smear, only to make a bigger mess.

“Oh dear, I think I’ve made it worse,’ he admitted sheepishly, with cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

Smile, never leaving your features. You reached up to imitate him, “These now we match!”

Just before Vincent could get a word out, the two of you were interrupted by a very unimpressed instructor clearing his throat. “Am I interrupting something,” he scoffed out, causing you and Vincent to jump back a little from embarrassment.

His eyes befell the paintings before they bounced between you and Vincent. Admittingly the two of you looked like guilty school children with your hands caught in the cookie jar. And rightfully so, as not only had the two of you completely ignored the instructor for the duration of the evening, but the cosy interaction from only mere moments ago was enough to make any outsider raise a brow. Without another word, the man simply signed in defeat and shook his head as he walked away, “I don’t get paid enough for this job.”

Once the man left, you and Vincent looked at each other before bursting into laughter, scooting closer to each other once more. “You wanted to know how to create a textured effect right,” he inquired, dipping his own brush into the bright yellow paint and handing it to you.

He then wrapped his hand around yours and demonstrated the technique. Your heart picked up pace at his proximity, warm scents of vanilla, sunshine and sunflowers reaching your nose. “It’s super easy. All you have to do is blot it like this!” he said, utterly oblivious to the way your heart galloped at a hundred miles per hour or the warmth that rose to your cheeks from the simple touch of the hand.

Honestly, it was hard to focus on the task at hand when he was so close, wreaking absolute havoc to your senses. His blue eyes filled your vision, almost nose to nose, and if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting before, it sure as hell was short-circuiting now. “Got it?” he asked curiously, releasing your hand and retaking position behind his own canvas with a sunny smile.

“Y-yeah!” you managed to stutter out, trying your utmost best to reign composure.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch, and it wasn’t before long that the class had officially come to its end. You nervously exchanged paintings with Vincent, eyes roving over the picture of a thousand sunflowers in the bright lower field. “This is amazing”, the two of you spoke at the same time. Giggles erupted once more between the two of you as you nervously shifted your eyes away from the man tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “You really think so.”

Vincent nodded, blue eyes shining as he struggled to tear it away from the painting. “Of course, in fact, I might have to hide this away from Theo, else he might try and sell it off,” he said with a bashful smile.

With ever reddening cheeks, a question lingers in his china blues as he looked you straight in the eyes, “y-you think you might want to go on another”

Your heart soared at the question of a second date; you imagined you must have been wearing just as flustered a look as he was, as you somehow actually managed to stutter out, “I-I’d really like that.”

The two of you shared a final parting smile leaving the place, paintings in hand and plans to meet up again for a second date.

[mintchanniemint]

pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount:  ~2.6k  [these events are not chronologically connected to the previous parts!] taglist: @100797-bc @chansrms

Achoo! 

You groaned as your own sneeze made you feel like your whole head spinned for five minutes straight. You were desperately trying to reach for your phone on the bedside table but your forces were nearly nonexistent, it felt so difficult to even just move your eyes. You could hear the never-ending buzzing of the device, and you couldn't even wonder who would be able to make so many notifications pop up in such a short time. You had caught a bad cold, probably due to the previous night, but you weren't even able to tell your friends about it. You just hoped they didn't worry that much. You sighed, giving up on your small mission to let your hands finally reach your phone and decided to rest a little bit, hoping you would gain some energy to get up and go get some medicine for your headache. Not even ten minutes had passed and that peaceful, way too silent silence got interrupted by a really long hold on your doorbell. 

You suddenly opened your eyes and stared intensely at the white ceiling. It's Chan. Only that guy was able to be so annoying just by ringing the bell. But how could you tell him you got sick? And that it was entirely your fault since he warned you and told you to bring a jacket with you and then found yourself in an unfortunate rainstorm with just a simple t-shirt? 

"Eugh… give me a minute…" You murmured, somehow hoping your voice could reach your friend's ears although it left your mouth in a really low whisper. The ringing got even more annoying and obnoxious and you took a deep breath before finally trying to leave your warm bed. "The quicker I move, the faster it will end." You kept repeating to yourself as you got up, tried not to lose balance, stomped your feet around to catch both your slippers but being able to only wear one, and proceeding with quickly moving from your room to the front door, your right hand always following the wall by your side as everything around you was spinning. 

You struggled a bit with the various locks but then you finally were able to open the door, and the annoying ringing stopped when your tired, heavy eyes met with the red haired guy's. 

"Why didn't you answer my messages-" 

Your ears were barely able to catch those words before everything around you suddenly turned off. 

The next thing you saw was that familiar white ceiling: you were back in your bed, under many warm blankets, and a beeping thermometer under your arm.  Your gaze slowly moved to your side, seeing a bottle of water where your phone was previously left on your nightstand. Raindrops gently hitting against the surface of the window as you got welcomed by your friend.

"You're awake." Chan's soft voice reached your senses as you felt like you were slowly relaxing. He sat on the bed and your eyes focused on his silky features, as his warm hand got the thermometer from under your arm and he checked the temperature.

"Is it bad?" 

He only sighed, his eyes fixed on the display. 

"That bad?" Your voice sounded a bit worried and he quickly turned off the small device and put it back in its case. His eyes met with yours and his gaze softened as he let his hand wander under the four piles of blankets just to look for yours, and hold it. 

"It's really bad. Why didn't you listen to me and left without bringing a jacket with you." 

There he goes! You huffed and you quickly pinched the same warm hand you were distractedly letting your fingers trace on a few seconds before.

"Did you really come all the way to my house, ring my damn door for, like, ten minutes without even giving me a break, only to scold me?" 

"Yes." 

You pinched his hand even harder. 

"Not only for that."

Your two fingers let go of his hand for a second, distractedly tapping on the same spot they were previously pinching, waiting for him to continue. 

"I also got to see you faint in front of me." 

"You're such an idiot." You couldn't help but let a tired giggle leave your lips, as those words were blurred out together. 

"Make sure to eat something before taking your medicine." 

You looked at him in silence, blinking a few times as your eyes didn't move from his. It was as if you were trying to tell him something without actually saying it.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… don’t make me say it- 

"Why are you looking at me like that." 

"...Channie, I'm kinda sick, could you please make me some food? A sandwich maybe? Hm? Hm? Or porridge? What about some-" 

"Don't call me Channie-" 

"Oh, c'mon! Please, please, please!"  You started whining right away, now both of your hands holding his and randomly pulling it and just… throwing a whole tantrum while trying to keep a cute tone in your voice. His expression didn't change a bit, he was definitely not surprised by that whole theatrical scene. 

"Okay, okay. I'll make something for you. Stay here and sleep." 

You suddenly stopped and looked at him with sparkly eyes as you started to loudly thank him. 

"You don't look that sick anymore, though. Maybe I can just go home-" 

"No, don't go!"  Those words left your mouth before your brain could even register what you were going to say. You looked at Chan in silence as he was clearly processing what you said. Those were, really, a few simple words; but it was probably the veiled desperation hidden in your tone that got both of you quite startled. When did you even become this clingy?

He didn't say anything, probably not to make that small situation even more embarrassing, and left your room, not before making sure that you were going to rest and not follow him around. 

"But Chan, this is my house!" 

"I'm in charge of cooking today. I don't want to see you wander around the house like a lost raccoon looking for food." 

You had no words left to win that debate so you just huffed and hid under your blankets, leaving only your face uncovered as you stared at a small wolf plushie sitting on your desk; its cute, closed eyes reciprocating your gaze. You started to feel your mind slowly wander from thought to thought before you finally fell asleep, hoping to feel better after the nap. 

You couldn't really tell how much time had passed, but you tried to slowly open your heavy, tired eyes as you were feeling, once again, the whole world spinning around you. 

"Gwah… Chan…?"  You mumbled as you heard his steps, signaling that he probably just finished cooking some small meal for you. He left a bowl on the nightstand and sat on the bed. He probably could tell that you were more in pain than earlier. 

"Are you okay? Do you have a headache?"  His voice reached your ears in a soft, low tone, the only way you could answer was by slowly nodding. You felt his big hand quickly reaching your forehead.

"Gosh, I can't even open my eyes…"  You blurted out and slowly opened one eye as you tried to somehow focus on Chan, sitting right next to you, his back now facing you as he was looking for the thermometer he had used earlier to check your temperature. 

Before you could even say anything else, he suddenly turned around once again, his dark eyes meeting with yours for a fraction of seconds before you squeezed your eyes. 

"It hurts…"  You mumbled under your breath. Chan just sighed, his soft hand slowly moving some strands of hair from your face.  His hands felt quite cold, probably meaning that you were boiling hot since they were usually warm whenever he touched you.  You turned your head, letting your cheek lazily rub against the palm of his hand.  The red haired guy suddenly moved a bit closer to you, hesitant for a bit, before you felt his soft, plump lips rest against your forehead. 

What…?! 

You abruptly opened your eyes, but he was leaning against you and all you could see was his torso covered by one of his usual black hoodies. 

"Chan-" 

"Yeah, you're getting worse. Can you sit properly? So you can eat." 

Damn… why couldn’t he just use the thermometer?! It’s literally in his hands!

That was quite unexpected, the words you were trying to say faded on the tips of your lips and before you could even realize it, you were now sitting on your bed. Chan moved various pillows behind your back so you could rest comfortably and he brought a small cloth to put on your lap, on top of the various layers of soft blankets that were covering you. 

"What’s on the menu today, chef?"  You giggled lightly, your voice not able to filter your tiredness as you suddenly sneezed. You were glad he left three boxes of tissues right next to you. You were able to catch a really light smile painting his lips before he sat down holding the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. 

"Just some porridge."  He replied with his usual colourless voice, although you had to admit that at this point you were able to see every single one of the many colours that he always coldly tried to hide from others. 

"Here, be careful not to get your blankets dirty while eatin-" 

"Aaaaahn..."  You didn't even think twice before making that really childish noise as you opened your mouth, waiting for Chan to feed you. Your eyes met his as realization was slowly hitting you. 

… wait a minute… 

Was I just… supposed to… not… Chan… wasn't he…  

Silence brutally struck in the room as you suddenly felt like that plushie on your desk got really and fascinatingly interesting to stare at and to give your whole attention to. 

He wasn't going to feed me! I'm such an idiot! Why did I even think about that? What's wrong with me!! 

Your mind was getting beaten up by such thoughts as your eyes intensely kept staring at the plushie, completely ignoring Chan next to you. 

"I heard all of that." 

You nearly screamed as you quickly looked at him, your eyes drowning in terror. 

Is he some wizard or something? Did I talk out loud?! No… Maybe he’s an alien?

You quickly brought your hands on top of your head, as you started glaring at him, your lips pressed in a pout and your fingers slightly tapping on your head. 

"What are you doing now, the food might get cold if you keep messing around, idiot." 

"What am I thinking now? Can you read my mind?! How much do you know?!" 

He looked at you, clearly unamused, and took a deep breath as he stirred the meal in the bowl. 

"Here, open your mouth. You're clearly not gonna recover from this at all."  Ignoring your words, he carefully led the spoon full of warm porridge to your pouty lips and, as you kept staring at him, hands still on your head, you slowly opened your mouth, welcoming the exquisite food that the bassist in front of you was able to make. 

"Mh… it's really good!"  You mumbled between spoonfuls. Chan kept feeding you and, after you thanked him for the meal, he gave you a glass of water and medicine. 

"Drink it, so that headache won't bother you anymore."  He said, as you were slowly drinking your medicine.  It tasted so bad and you couldn't help but whine, looking at the glass in your hands with a rather upset expression, when you suddenly heard a giggle coming from Chan. 

"You looked so ugly right now." 

"Hey! So rude! Don’t make fun of me!"  You jokingly stuck your tongue out. He smiled and lightly booped your nose before he got up and brought the bowl and glass back to the kitchen. 

As you could faintly hear him washing the dishes, you lay down again under your blankets, your eyes following some random raindrops that would end up against your window, racing against each other and tracing abstract figures on the glass.  You were feeling really thankful for Chan, if he wasn't there you probably would have spent the whole day sleeping not able to take care of yourself. He was always there for you, he would always come to help at the right moments and although sometimes you might have shown reluctance to him, you had to admit that you had always enjoyed every single second spent with him by your side. 

As you were getting immersed in your own thoughts, your eyes suddenly met with those of the fluffy wolf plushie that was previously on your desk.  You didn't notice Chan entering your room and in order to get your attention, and maybe also make you cheer up a bit, he decided to use that plushie you intensely stared at before you had your meal.

"Isn't he cute?"  You smiled at him, taking the plushie in your hands and slowly patting its cute head. 

"Mh."  He nodded, he looked both way too focused and distracted at the same time. You often wondered what was going on in his mind, sometimes finding yourself wishing you were secretly able to read his thoughts.

"Chan, are you okay-" 

"Be careful next time." 

"Oh, c'mon… this stuff can happen! I'm completely fine now, thank you. And sorry… for probably ruining your whole day? It’s also raining, you shouldn’t have come all the way to my h-" 

“I was in the area anyway.”

Yeah, no. He used that excuse so many times, along with his usual “I was at the grocery store” when the same exact store is also in his neighbourhood. He often tried to save himself saying that “the cookies in the one next to your house are better”, but you just let him be and as a consequence he was probably convinced you fully believed in that tiny lie. 

You didn't get any kind of reply from him besides those few words, and you started to think that… maybe you did ruin his day? What if he had other plans? What if he was supposed to go practice but instead he got stuck spoonfeeding his way-too-stupid-but-not-enough-not-to-catch-a-cold friend? 

You sighed, but before you could say anything, his hands took the plushie from yours and he carefully examined it in silence. 

"Tell her she might be stupid, but that she would never ruin my days." 

"Chan, what-" 

"And tell her that she might be careless sometimes, but that she's also really strong and that I would always come to help her no matter what." His eyes were glued on the soft cartoonish wolf in his hands, and as every single word left his lips, you could feel your cheeks heating up and this time was definitely not because of the fever. As your tired eyes tried to focus a bit more on Chan’s face, you were able to notice that his cheeks as well were now tinted in a gentle light red.

"...And tell her that I can't read her mind. That place is probably some maze full of weird fantasies about me feeding her." 

"Hey, stop that!"  You suddenly looked away, covering your face with the blanket as you tried your best not to get up and use the little energy left in you to knock him out. 

"You idiot!"  You mumbled, your voice wasn't able to hide that shy smile printed on your face, but before you could even formulate a proper answer to everything he said, you heard a small, gentle and comically serious "boop." leave Chan's lips as he made the grey plushie gently hit your forehead. 

"And lastly, tell her to get better soon. I want to go look at the stars with her again."

[espresso-lessdepresso]

Hello Sofi! The lovely anon

I’ve just read all your messages and seeing as you wanted to be anonymous, I’ll simply reply though here without directly replying to your ask and without disclosing your account.

 I feel like a 40 year old woman that has to sit down with her coffee and glasses to read the story her favorite writer just dropped.

Honestly, I feel very similar, in the sense that, whenever I’m writing, I’m in some alternate universe where I’m pursuing writing and am writing to publish some book of mine :] 

I’ve also read your comments beside writing and I hope you’re doing okay, it’s a tough year especially all the weird and sad situations going on that hit like a truck but remember that you followers and me are here to support you. You can talk to me about anything you need, I’ll always be here to help you, it’s the least I can do as a big fan of yours.

It has been a rough year for most if not all of us. On top of personal family issues, my writer's block and depression seem to be wombo comboing my ass for the past few months. Evident by the lack of new works on this blog as well as the second chapter of The Cage that I had promised. I really appreciate how understanding and thoughtful you are ^^ I should be back on my usual habit hopefully soon. 

And I am so thankful that you took the time to read my letter and you loved it and will save it, it meant not only the world but also the whole entire galaxy to me. I meant every word I said and will keep on sending lovely asks because you absolutely, with no shadow of a doubt, deserve them. ILY, stay safe my love and sending all good and calming vibes your way <333

Gosh, this is all so sweet I don’t know how to express how grateful I am. I truly am! Your kind and sweet messages haven’t failed to brighten my day whenever I’ve received them. THANK YOU <3

hihihii !! it’s me again, the lovely anon lol. You can call me sofi btw if you want to :D. So I’m coming with another message, sorry if they bother but I really like writing them and idk, it just feels right.

I’m very much fine with such kind messages so no need to shy away! In a way, it is nice to interact with my readers and know a bit about them and what they think about my writing. Lol, it feels less like I'm putting my writing out into the void and more like to people with similar interests and likings. 

Anywayssss, so yesterday I was listening to Conan Gray and I had this weird awakening, while listening to ‘Memories’ I remembered the dialogue you wrote, the one where the reader was left alone and GOD. I read it while listening and it fitted so well, I firmly believe you just have a way to convey so many emotions into one scene like a full on movie script and like I get this tight feeling on my chest, so sad and prominent that only REALLY GOOD STORIES make me have.

I like writing just dialogue because unlike the other proper stories, which have settings, dialogue, descriptions, etc, etc.- the reader gets to make and take away from the dialogue as much or as little as they want to. Like, sprinkle your brain glitter on it and make it as emotionally harrowing as you want ^^ 

I listened to Memories and oh my god, I did not know that there would be a song so fitting to this dialogue as this is! This song has like 90% of what my thought process consisted of when I was writing D4. This is just so wild and interesting I'm like all giddy and frazzled. And once again, thank you so much. My writing is almost always self-indulgent and with this, I’m very happy and satisfied that the emotions I was feeling were able to transfer into my writing. Please I hope you had some chocolate after the pain that my writing inflicted!!! I can’t lose my readers!!! 

If I could add and expand, the rest of the 10% that I wanted to convey into the writing of D4 was... anger accompanied by betrayal. In my mind, the ‘reader’ in D4 struggles with abandonment and attachment so being left all alone, a lot of hurt and confutation was laced into the last dialogue. 

That’s you power, absolutely incredible. I cannot stress enough about how amazing you are, seriously you’re super cool and I hope you know that whatever you come up with I just love it so much. Even the small and insignificant make such a difference for me, also you made want to pick up a story I left long forgotten before I started college. It’s just idk, you reminded me how sweet it is to step back and write something cute and warm (I’m a film student, most scripts I write are horror lmao) so thank you so much for that, hope you’re getting better everyday. Stay safe, ily and sending you all the good vibes <333

Hearing all of this motivates me so much to write and makes my brain brrr like there's no tomorrow. 

I’m glad that you’ve reconnected with your own writing <3 If you ever post your writing online, I would love to read them! I enjoy reading horror, mostly Stephen king for now (I hope to explore), so if your horror scripts are ever posted as well, link me! 

I apologise for such a late reply. I hope you are doing well! All the good vibes to you too and I hope you take care Sofi <3 !!!

I just realized I wasn’t hitting the anon button all this time 💀 now you know my secret identity

Hmm, it seems that I have spontaneously forgotten the name of your account and now your online identity will remain an absolute mystery ;] 

[iiasha-archived]

Here’s another ask game for ya! Assign your moots as seventeen comeback aesthetics (can include solos, OSTs, collabs, Japanese comebacks, etc) and say why you associate them with that aesthetic! Some can overlap too!

ooo okay.. i’m really bad at these kinds of things but i’ll try my best ❤️ i would have loved to do all my mutuals but my brain isn’t strong enough for everyone so i’m so sorry ahead of time if i didn’t get you!! 😭

edit: also i just realized this said COMEBACK aesthetics but i just did svt. well. anything lmao

@s0ftbb as clap: c just gives me such wonderfully colorful and bright vibes (esp with the use of the colored text lmao it always adds such a nice extra flair to all ur posts <3) and also all her creations and videos give me such HAPPY and LET’S HAVE A GOOD TIME vibes u know what i mean 🥺 and also just that splash of insanity that we all love <3 in particular i’m thinking of that montage scene near the end where there’s like confetti flying everywhere and it’s in slow-mo and stuff lmao

@rosevlolets as fallin flower: alexis gives me super soft and refined and of course flowery vibes! i think it also helps that all her tags for the svt members are literally flowers so it always feels like a cherry blossom breeze every time i see her on the dash or in my notifs <3 (oh gosh i hope that wasn’t TOO cheesy lmao) hehe but yeah i always think flowers when it comes to alexis which is perfect for fallin’ flower

@scoupsy as fear + fearless being the sister song: not because dreamy is intimidating or anything LMAO but i think this association immediately came to mind because of her astounding and beautiful graphics, i feel like they match the fear aesthetic super well. there’s like kind of a dark and elegant atmosphere i always associate with her gfx and in turn her but in like that really beautiful way <3 but ALSO fearless comes in bc i find dreamy’s personality super, well, fearless LMAO and just badass. i really love how she doesn’t hesitate to speak up for herself ❤️

@jonghan as (never-ending) aju nice: GO CRAZY GO STUPID GO WILD LOSE YOU’RE FUCKING SHIT AS WE GO WILD EVEN MORE!! i think yza perfectly encapsulates the never-ending aju nice stage as well as all the crazy antics that come along with it especially as of late LMAO. and again i tend to associate people’s content with their i guess. being? lmao but aju nice is equally as colorful and vibrant as her gifs PLUS she’s so prolific (e.g. never-ending but in the best way) like god damn idk how you keep up with it all afjksldjf

@soonhoonsol​ as healing: idk man chey just gives me very... lmao HEALING vibes :D seeing you on the dash and in my notifs fills me with this very feel-good “ahhh it’s chey!!!” and upbeat feeling hehe <3 and you almost always have such nice tags as well that i read them sometimes and i’m like 🥺🥺🥺 my soul = cleansed. but there’s also this sense of like... i hope this is for the long run you know? LMAO by that what i mean is the whole thing of healing is like DON’T stop this healing right basically i hope you continue to bless the dash for a long time whether it be with your creations or simply good vibes <3

@gotseventeens​ as change up: i don’t really have a reason for this other than vibes? LMAO i’m using vibes all over the place but yeah like for some reason the vibe i get from belle reminds me of the bold colors and suave/cool nature of the change up mv hehe ❤️ i think it’s because belle’s vibes also strike me with this air of confidence that is still kind of chill/lowkey about it lmaooo like YEAH you totally got this ;D

@tzhao12 as 2019 TTT (camping ver.) but specifically when they’re talking about their feelings at the end: because what speaks better about everlasting friendships than the friend i’ve been blessed with for what. is it 12 years now. she’s probably not even gonna see this for like 3 months bc unlike me she escaped tumblr. anyways tiff i’d die for you can’t wait for y’all to jumpscare me this thursday <3 i’m gonna cry i’m serious <3

@vernons as any vocal unit song: oona gives me very soft and gentle vibes which is a lot of what i get from most of vocal unit’s songs! if i had to pick exactly one maybe we gonna make it shine but that’s probably just influenced by me having listened to it recently hehe <3 also a lot of the nature aesthetics and makeup looks i see you post on your main blog feel like they fit in as the visual side of the aesthetic the vocal unit songs give me if that makes any sense??? LMAO

@heartgyus as snap shoot, + the creative process behind it: so in my heart rhys is like a leading mingyu stan here so naturally i had to pick something with mingyu’s entire heart and spirit behind it LMAO but in general rhys vibe and aesthetic gives me SUPER happy/fluffy upbeat like “whoo hoo!” vibes??? afdjklajf a little silly a lot of cute and a lot of fun :D  

@haniehae as pinwheel: for some reason when i think of anna i get this sense of a breath of fresh air??? idek why this is another one i can’t really explain hahaha but yeah pinwheel is what immediately came to mind! i think also because when i see a lot of your moodboards pinwheel kind of naturally comes as like the backtrack for a lot of them??? i think it’s something about the instrumentals of the song. anna just overall also gives me very relaxing vibes whenever i see her on the dash hehe <3

@xuseokgyu​ as when they were filming the 2019 gose intro: okay this is really specific but for some reason that’s what came to mind afjkadslj MY REASONING is that belle just gives me the vibes of being like. super enthusiastic and supportive about EVERYTHING whether it be her own work or the work others are doing!!! also lowkey i get parental vibes from her LMAO so it somehow reminds me of when they were in the house and seungkwan was like “OKAY KIDS... GATHER AROUND...” lmao but in general the whole energy of that entire thing where they were like “okay here’s this thing we’re gonna DO IT” but in a enthusiastic/happy way is why i picked this jfaksldf

@17hateblog as seventeen’s humor: kay and i don’t really talk but she consistently has the funniest fucking tags ever known to mankind. it might not specifically be the same as the humor seventeen show us in, say, gose, but the way they both make me die laughing is the same <3 it doesn’t even matter what the post is everything she puts on her blog is an adventure and i am fucking here for it. AND she’s a jun stan so what’s not to love <3

@vixenjun as light a flame: because kaya and her blog literally embody sexiness + junhui in that choreo....... >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> everything. i also really feel like her aes kind of fits that dark mysterious too-good-for-you beauty vibe that i also get from light a flame lmao (but underneath that kaya is obviously a sweetheart <3)

@happysmilebtr as hitorijanai: anna is just like. genuinely one of the most supportive and happy vibing people i’ve met on here? lmao and i feel bad bc i basically have now left you on read KJFDLAJDS but all our dms have been so much fun like i love just talking about anything <333 but yeah the way you’re so open and loving and supportive 100% gives me hitorijanai vibes and the message behind it :D

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 16

oh gosh, i'm so sorry for the late update!! i promise i'm still working on this, little by little. i am on vacation next week, so maybe i'll get the chance to really put some work in.

in any case, enjoy today's update c:

okay, so who the hell was gonna tell me that CBG’s designed a whole-ass album cover for my favorite artist of all time?

scratch that. who was gonna tell me she designed my FAVORITE album cover for my FAVORITE artist of all time?

Bubbles, as it turns out, has known Marinette Dupain-Cheng since he was four years old. Went to school with her and everything. So that’s another scoop to the shit Luka’s landed himself in. He still isn’t sure what gave him greater whiplash: finding out about that connection, or finding her name in the fine print of Jagged stone’s album credits. He also isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing that Nino mentions little else, and especially dodges the question of if it’s even cool to actually admit to having a gigantic crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or whether he’s just wasting his time.

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool.

(Luka is most definitely not cool.)

Especially for those freeze-frames of time that he wonders, to his own horror, if Bubbles has been Adrien Agreste all this time.

It takes him the better part of an hour of pacing and fidgeting with his guitar pick to realize that no, he hasn’t been casually messaging a fashion mogul’s son who also just so happened to be Marinette’s own gigantic crush. He doesn’t seem like the type to use “dude” in everyday conversation, and for another thing, it didn't exactly like up with what Marinette had said about them knowing each other in middle school.

One day, Luka swears, he’s going to take this anxiety thing out back and have it meet its maker.

Even if, maybe, he sort of is its maker.

(Okay, maybe he's going to take his brain out back, because he's definitely not responsible for that.)

But he figures, once that initial panic and urge to scream into his pillow wear off, that it might be a cool talking point between him and Marinette. One that, for once, doesn’t have much to do with either of their jobs. Or with how tongue-tied he gets around her because she just won’t stop being so pretty. Not that that’s a problem; both his sister and his mother would have his head for ever thinking that way, and even then, Rose would tell them to get in line. Something about how they didn’t raise him this way, even if two of them didn’t even raise him at all.

Luka waits a couple of days before stopping by the bakery again; it gives them both some breathing room and the time for those postcards to be finished and printed. He thinks about it a lot. The postcards. The effort. Marinette, too, but in his quietly flustered opinion, he thinks that’s a given. He doesn’t get the chance to come until close to closing time again because of his delivery shift; he just hopes they don’t mind too much. He braces himself the whole ride over for whatever may be coming: another friendly crack about napoleons and pear tarts, the beauty of the postcards, maybe even another offer of kindness if Marinette’s pattern is anything to go by.

The one thing Luka doesn’t brace himself for—which, of course, is the one thing that ends up happening—is the door propped open, and the music drifting out through the crack. And he can’t even revel in the fact that it’s one of his favorite songs playing, because…

Because Marinette is dancing. Rag in one hand, spray bottle in the other. No, it’s not like, a flawlessly choreographed routine or anything. It’s more like a mix of what Rose does during their down time when she has too much energy and nowhere to put it, and what Juleka does when she’s trying to find the rhythm of a new song. It’s blissfully unaware, and beautiful, and it feels like home, and Luka can’t stop staring.

He doesn’t mean to. He knows he shouldn’t. It’s just… he can’t remember ever seeing a moment when she was simply “Marinette, “instead of “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Friend to Practically Everybody.” or “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Daughter of the Owners of The Best Bakery In Paris.” or even “Marinette, the Girl Behind the Counter with the Sketchbook Full of Secrets and the connections to Jagged Fucking Stone.”

Okay, maybe he’s been watching a couple too many fantasy movies lately.

And he definitely needs to look away, like, right now, because she does this thing with her hips that makes his brain forget how to function for a second, and he needs his brain to function in every sense of the phrase, and God fucking damn it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is hot and he’s not supposed to think that she’s hot—

And she’s looking at him. Frozen. right as he’s about to get off his bike and knock.

And, like the total idiot he can only manage to be at the worst possible times, he trips. Over his bike. And faceplants, right in front of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He’s somewhere between waiting for death to take him, and thanking his Ma for always getting on him about wearing a helmet, and wondering if he really was so stupid that his first instinct was to run, when the bell over the bakery door rings like mad. Someone cries out his name, and the music cuts, and there’s a skitter of footsteps on concrete. When he comes to himself and starts to sit up, he finds himself face-to-face with Marinette, who's kneeling beside him and already scanning him for any injuries.

The first thing she says, with her hand in her hair, is, “Oh, God. She’s gonna kill me.”

The first thing he says, with a wince, is, “Yikes.”

It’s then that the pain sinks in, dull and searing and throbbing all at once, as if punishing him for choosing to say that, of all things. He sits up a bit more, pain chasing up his spine and stinging his palms; his knee is badly scraped and starting to swell, he realizes once he gets a good look at the rest of him. He can’t tell yet, whether Juleka would call this karma or kismet. All he can think is that at least his jeans were already ripped.

“Can…” Marinette swallows hard, but otherwise she’s entirely unfazed. “Can you stand? Put weight on it? Oh God, oh my God, she’s actually gonna kill me.”

“I…” Cautiously, Luka tries to get to his feet, and Marinette makes space for him. All it takes is one step for a jolt of pain to shoot up his leg, and he staggers and clutches the closest streetlamp, nearly tripping over his bike again in the process. “Shit,” is all he can bite out after drawing his breath in through his teeth and holding onto it for too long. He lets it out, little by little, and his grip on the lamppost loosens. “It’s okay, I’m—I can just walk my bike to the metro station, and—”

It’s like she isn’t even listening to him; she’s looking around the bike, evidently searching for something. Finally, she finds it—his bike lock—and after it and the bakery door are secure, she coaxes his arm around her shoulder. It’s almost comical, because he’s got a good thirty centimeters on her, but it hurts too much to laugh. Or, apparently, to stammer in protest when she leads him through the side door and up the stairs to her apartment.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Seeing her in her pajamas was enough of an invasion of her privacy. But seeing the inside of her literal, actual home? Oh, no. No way.

“You’re hurt,” she says simply, as if she’s read his mind; her voice is trembling, the way voices do when they know they shouldn’t. “It’d be against like, everything I am as a person if I just let you leave.” She only lets go of him to unlock the door, and only then does it occur to him that, for a few moments that should have been blissful, they were side-by-side, and in some places skin-to-skin.

Mr. Dupain gives them a funny, almost unreadable look when Marinette opens the door. One look at Luka’s leg seems to answer any questions he might have had, and effortlessly he helps Luka to the couch while Marinette disappears into the bathroom. “You know,” he jokes under his breath, “When I imagined someone falling for my daughter, I didn’t mean literally.”

Luka’s face goes hot. “I didn’t—I’m not—”

Whatever he wants to say falls on deaf ears, and Mr. Dupain makes himself scarce as soon as Marinette emerges from the bathroom. Even as she lifts his leg onto the coffee table, Luka swears he can feel those kind, quietly insistent eyes burning holes into him all the way from the kitchen. He doesn’t get to think much more about what Mr. Dupain might have meant, or what he would have said to refute it, because Marinette is pressing an alcohol pad to the scrapes, and it stings like a motherfucker—which is probably a good thing for more reasons than one.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says weakly, because somewhere along the way, I don’t deserve it got stuck in his throat and refused to come out.

Marinette gives him a look. He can’t quite figure out what it means. “Yeah. I do.”

“Nah.” He readjusts, braces himself for the second sting of the ointment and the bandages. “I kinda deserved it. Jules would call it karma, I guess.”

There she goes again, wincing at the mere mention of Juleka. Or maybe… maybe it’s something else. Without a word, she gets up and disappears into the kitchen, and he spends her whole absence wondering what he said or did. He’s only relieved when she returns with a bag of frozen corn and a shrug as if to say, It’s all we had. She presses the bag to his knee, breathing deep in time with him, or maybe in hopes that his breathing will start to match hers. Then she speaks, and her voice wavers.

“Why would you ever think,” she murmurs, “that you deserve any pain?”

Luka opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens and shuts again. This time, at least for a while, the words don’t even make it to his throat. Eventually, all he can spit out is, “I was. Watching. You.”

“I know,” Marinette says, turning as pink as her shorts. “I saw.”

That’s the one thing he can appreciate: she doesn’t try to downplay it or say it was dumb. Even now, she’s unapologetic, and direct, and God, maybe he’s just fallen a little more. “I shouldn’t have,” he says. “I was gonna knock, I was…” He shifts again, his knee still in her gentle grasp, and flinches. “I just… wanted to see your postcards.”

I just wanted to see you.

“Marinette.” His lips tingle just from saying her name, and his stomach is churning. “Who… who’s gonna kill you?”

This time, Marinette goes scarlet; it would look about as pretty as literally every other color and pattern she wears if she didn’t seem so… mortified. “I’ll go get one of—the postcards,” she says—stammers, more like—and as she’s heading upstairs she calls out, “Papa, he can’t walk. Can we drive him home?”

From the kitchen, Mr. Dupain winks.

1 Photo Attached

RIP lol

and no, i’m not talking about my jeans. those were already like that.

but also. 😬 oh boy.

[excellentexecution]

Anonymous asked: hi, last anon who found you in the tags. :) i think i literally love everything? your writing is *chef's kiss* and just the way you dig into his thoughts, the paras that i've gotten sucked into, and the nsfw headcanons (but that's just my own perverted mind). i really love this blog, you do an amazing job portraying him. ❤️ literally everything you write/talk about is exactly how i think bret would be/say.

Gosh. You got me blushing, honey! Thank you so much for your kind words. I know this might seem kinda silly given that this is all RP, but it does mean a lot to me that you’ve enjoyed what I have written. Honestly, that is one of my biggest worries when it comes to writing for Bret at all - that I don’t have his character/voice down and that others aren’t as entertained as I am. I never want to cross any sort of lines, either. Though I write for the onscreen character of the Hitman, just like everyone else in the community, I know that there is a real guy on the other side who portrayed him. I wouldn’t want to do anything considered disrespectful to either, and make it an absolute priority of mine that what I do put out is within decent boundaries. It feels good to know that I haven’t failed in that regard. 

Bret’s just such an interesting person, you know? When I saw that no one had taken him as an RP muse, I was pretty shocked. Understandably, lots of the “older” wrestling muses get ignored in favor of the more modern stars, due to one thing or another, but still. I also had/have a really great group of friends that helped me to make that final decision on writing for Bret. Since that time, almost  2 years ago now, I have become fully engrossed. I just love getting into his thoughts, too. That old-school sense of self, how being raised by a legend like Stu and growing up around the ever changing business shaped who he was. Frankly, least on the TV programs of yesteryear, that much never got addressed as much as I would’ve liked it to. So, it’s fun getting the chance to create some form of it myself. As you could see already, it gets hard to stop, sometimes. I could go on and on about the Hitman’s crazy adventures. Which is reason number 1 as to why I write as much as I do. I can’t help it. My fingers and brain won’t let me. 

Hey, though, who doesn’t love some NSFW deliciousness? Especially in regard to Bret. He wasn’t like most of the guys of his era when it came down to being so open like that (not as often, anyways). Really, just take a look at how many of the boys talked about their sexy fun times on TV. HBK was all about it, Flair made it part of the entire package, and even the more wholesome peoples, like Tito, bragged about it at some point or another. I couldn’t not have that on here! I am all for allowing Bret to be his sexual self. Let him get down and dirty, you know? Ain’t no shame in it. Both he and us deserve that pleasure. Plus, it’s very exciting to write about, and totally goes into one of my favorite troupes: a gentleman in the streets but an honorable freak in the sheets.

Again, thank you for taking the time to send in this message. It really brightened up my day and brought a smile to my face. I hope you continue to be entertained by the antics that the Hitman goes through, and don’t ever be afraid to drop another line. Both Bret and I are always ready for a good chat! <3

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Letters To A Boy Who’ll Never Read Them

A/N: Kinda inspired by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Anyone who knows me will see how much I projected on this but oh well. Also, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written! (Which is kinda sad I guess but oh well)

Summery: The letters to Peter were never supposed to leave that box 

Word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: I like half proof read this so probably some typos

Peter Parker was a boy you liked to admire from afar. You’ve gone to school with him for the past three years and were yet to feel the courage to talk to him. The first time you laid eyes on the curly haired boy, you were a goner. Everything about him was perfect to you, even if he was considered a nerd by most others. You liked to imagine that he felt the same towards you, but you were sure he never took a second to register your face among the hundreds at Midtown. 

And maybe you owed that to how perfectly average you were. Sure, you were fairly smart, but so was everyone else at the school. You were pretty enough, but it wasn’t something that set you apart from everyone else. You blended into a crowd like a chameleon on a green wall. 

Your one special talent, if it could even be called that, was your writing. Your teachers always commented on the eloquence of your essays and your friends liked to ask you to come up with witty captions from their Instagram posts. You were even on a competitive writing team.

 Writing was the one thing that set you apart, but it was something that went unnoticed by the majority. 

Unbeknownst to you, Peter Parker was very aware of your presence in a room. Your “average” beauty was more than average to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d known that he liked you, but he guessed that it started around the first time he read one of your essays. Your way with words was something he would never stop admiring. He was a science kid, through and through but he could see your passion for writing even in the simple essay you had to write about symbolism in Lord of the Flies. 

He wanted to talk to you and ask you just how you did it, but there was always something holding him back. You were either hanging out with your small group of friends and he didn’t want to interrupt or you were studying quietly in the library and he was sure you wanted to be alone. He never seemed to have the courage to talk to you and he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

So he never approached you. In the three years he had known your face he never spoke a word to it. Every class that you had together never required a group project and assigned seats that were never next to each other. Sometimes, it felt like fate was keeping you apart. 

~

You kept a container under your bed. There wasn’t anything that special about it originally. You put some stickers on there when you were a little younger. There was no reason in particular that you did it, you just had some stickers and wanted to put them to use. You ended up sticking it under the bed eventually and left it there for a while. 

There was a day when you got sick of keeping your crush at bay. It wasn’t all that long after you “met” Peter. Who knew that staring at the back of someone’s head could make you like them so much? 

So you did the thing you knew best; write. 

You wrote him a letter. A letter you hoped he would never read because it was too embarrassing for him to see. 

Dear Peter, 

How does one tell you they love you? Perhaps I could tell you in this letter, but a letter alone could not capture the raging feelings I have for you. The butterflies I feel when you walk in a room, the sense of calmness I feel when I see you smile, the giddiness when you shoot your hand up to answer a question. Not a day goes by that I fear I won’t see that smile again. But that doesn’t come close to the fear that you’ll never see me. For I am little more than another face in the crowd. I’m average and you are anything but. I wish this letter could make you see me, but I doubt anything really can. I hope this is a letter you’ll never read, but fate has ways of changing the things we want. Maybe, some day, you can be mine. 

With love, 

                 The girl I wished you’d see

You read the letter once over and weren’t sure what to do with it. You obviously couldn’t give it to Peter but you didn’t want to get rid of it. 

Your eyes caught sight of the container under your bed and you grabbed it, folding the note and putting it in there. You placed the container back under the bed and worked on more homework, hoping that somehow, the letter would rid you of your feelings. 

Over time, the container accumulated more letters. From little notes to full length letters describing how you felt, they never left that container. You even wrote “Dear Peter” in sharpie on the side. There were things you hoped you could mention in the hallway as you passed him and things you could only hope he would never know. 

From

Dear Peter, 

Your smile makes me happier than One Direction. 

To

Dear Peter, 

Sometimes, I fear that you’ll realize that you’re too smart and kind for the people at Midtown to treat you like they do and that you’ll leave. Sometimes, I wish I could be the one to make it better. 

You never told anyone about the container. It was something you felt was too personal to share. Even if your friends knew all about your crush on Peter, you weren’t sure you trusted them with the things you wrote to him. 

~ 

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” you said to your friend, Becca, as you grabbed your pajamas and headed to the bathroom across the hallway. The two of you were having a sleepover and you didn’t want to be in jeans while you watched movies. 

Becca twisted the ring on her finger as she waited for you when it accidentally came out of her grasp and rolled under your bed. 

“Oops,” she said to herself as she kneeled on the ground to get it. She swiped her hand under the bed before she found it, curiosity striking when she felt the box it was resting against. She looked down and was met with the container, the “Dear Peter” in your handwriting facing her. 

“What’s this?” She pulled the container out enough to see the folded letters sitting in it. She pulled one out and read part of it.

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. 

The sounds of your footsteps interrupted her reading and she quickly put the letter back, shoving the container under your bed. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, seeing her kneeling on the ground. 

“Oh, my ring dropped.” 

You smiled. “You need to stop dropping that thing, my gosh, Becca.” 

“I know, I know,” she chuckled. 

Later that night, when you were asleep, Becca took some of the letters and shoved them in her bag. There were tons of notes in there. Surely, you wouldn’t notice if five of them were gone. Maybe she could get these to Peter. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do behind you back, but she was sick of hearing you swoon over the boy. Just because you were oblivious to the yearning looks Peter gave didn’t mean she didn’t see them. 

The next Monday at school, Becca didn’t hang out at your locker for long, claiming that she needed to go to the bathroom before class. While you went to class early, she pushed the letters in through the crack of Peter’s locker. All she could do now is hope that Peter knew what to do next and that you wouldn’t kill her. 

~ 

“Dude, did you even read the chapter last night?” Peter asked Ned as they walked to his locker. 

“Of course not. Why do you think I’m asking you about it now?” 

Peter scoffed as he put the combination to his locker in. “What if everything I just old you wasn’t true?” 

“You would never-”

Ned was cut off by a few pieces of folded paper flying out of Peter’s locker. Peter picked one up, reading the short message written in small handwriting. 

Dear Peter, 

Your eyes are like the midnight sky. Dark and mysterious yet beautiful. 

“What is that?” Ned asked, reading it before Peter could move it out of eyesight. 

“I don’t know. Maybe someone’s putting notes in people’s lockers or something.” 

“Then why do you have four others in there?” Peter closed his locker, leaving the rest of the notes in there. 

“Aren’t you going to read them? What if Y/N finally confessed her love to you?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “She is not in love with me. And I’ll read them later.” 

Little did Peter know that Ned was right. As he read the notes later, he couldn’t help but wonder what led you to put such personal and deep notes in there. 

Dear Peter, 

It’s me again. I know I’ve written a million notes for you, but I don’t know what else to do. I am helplessly and completely head over heels for you. You and your cute sweaters, your genius brain, that little smile you get when you know all the answers to a test. I’ll probably be stuck writing letters to you ‘till the day I die, but oh well. You are the sun and I am a small blade of grass in the middle of a field. You are the ocean and I am one of the thousands of fish. You are you and I am just me. Maybe one day I’ll gain the courage to tell you that to your face, but until then, I remain the little fish in the big pond. 

Sincerely, 

                The little fish, 

                                      Y/N 

Dear Peter,

Yeah, you’re Peter Parker and I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N but what if you were Peter Pan and I was Wendy Darling? (That sucked, I’m sorry but not really)

Love, 

         Someone who wishes they were your darling

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been dreaming about you for years and all of a sudden you just threw some love letters in his locker? 

Of course, it could be fake. It was a little elaborate to be fake though. Ned couldn’t write like that and nobody else knew about his crush on you. Maybe it was an actual dream come true. 

~ 

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter called when he saw you standing at your locker the next day. He didn’t know what you were doing there since it was a lunch period but it didn’t matter. He walked towards you quickly, one of the letters subtly stuck to his side. 

You gave him a confused look. He knew who you were? Since when? 

“Hey, I uh . . . I got your letter.” 

“What letter? I never gave you a letter.” You closed your locker and turned to face him fully, arms crossed as you leaned onto it. 

“Well this letter says it’s from you. Unless there’s another Y/F/N Y/L/N in this school I don’t know about.” He held the letter up and your eyes widened. You snatched it out of his hands and scanned over the message. Yup, it was definitely yours. 

Dear Peter,

I love you. There, I said it. Well, wrote it, I guess. But that’s as bold as I can be right now. I’m still the girl you’ve never seen; the girl you’ll never see. I keep telling myself that if I can confess these stupid feelings behind the pen, then I can do it in person too. But that day hasn’t come yet. I guess it’s like liquid courage but with ink. Ink courage? That’s weird. 

That wasn’t even the end of it. There was a lot more on the page, things that even if you were to tell him how you felt, you would never want him to know. And you were absolutely mortified. 

“How did you get this?” 

“I don’t know. I was in my locker the other day. There were like four others with it.” 

“Four?” You stared at him like you had just seen a ghost. 

“Yeah four. This was the deepest though.” He had a shy smile, but you couldn’t even look at him. 

“You were never supposed to see this.” You leaned your head on the locker and brought a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t know how it made it to you.” You’ve never told anyone about the box of letters. 

“Well-”

“I’m so sorry you had to read that, Peter. It must be so weird. You don’t even know me. I’m really really sorry. You were never supposed to read it.” 

You looked like you were about to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Thank goodness nobody else was around to witness it. 

“Hey, no. It’s okay. I thought it was really sweet.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he had an urge to comfort you somehow. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that some girl you’ve never talked to is writing love letters to you?” You finally let your hand fall and glanced up at him quickly, reverting your eyes to the ground when he made eye contact. 

“No, it’s really cute actually. Just because we’ve never talked doesn’t mean I don’t know who you are.” He looked sincere, but that did little to relax fear and embarrassment swirling inside of you. 

“You know, Y/N, I’ve always thought you were cute too.”

Your head snapped up quickly, banging on the locker and causing you to grimace. 

“You okay?” He immediately stepped closer and took your head in his hands, checking to make sure you hadn’t really hurt yourself. 

Warmth spread through your body like a fire. The feeling of his hands was a little more comforting than you cared to admit. “Yeah, it’s just a locker. I’m a little tougher than that,” you laughed softly. 

“Just making sure.” He smiled sheepishly and pulled his hands away. 

You stood there, staring awkwardly staring at each other's shoes until you spoke up.  

“So can we agree to just forget about this and never speak of it again?”  

“Only if you will go on a date with me.” 

Your head shot up and you hit it on the locker again. Peter laughed and you sighed as you took a step away from it.

“I really need to stay away from lockers apparently.” Peter smiled a little wider and you swore your whole word was on fire. “But yeah, I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said shyly, scratching your neck as a surge of nerves pulsed through your body. Peter Parker actually just asked you on a date. 

“I’ll make sure to go somewhere without lockers.” 

“Oh, how considerate of you.” 

“We should probably get to lunch.” 

“I’ll walk you there.” 

“To the cafeteria?” 

“Where else? Unless you want me to follow two steps behind you like some creepy stalker.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I guess you can walk me.” 

“What a privilege.” 

“It is actually. You get to walk with the Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

“True, true.” You both turned and walked in the direction of the cafeteria, smiles on your faces. 

“Happen to have any more of those letters?”

“Oh you have no idea.” 

~

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[authenticcadence18]

Can’t Help Falling in Love Ch. 7

HI GUYS!!!!! Sorry about the wait....it has been a busy two weeks😅

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

AO3

(also, the formatting of a part of this chapter works better on AO3...I did the best I could to translate it to Tumblr but...yeah. lol.) 

...

Take my whole life too…

...

The tears began falling as soon as Isabella was out of the Flynn-Fletcher house. They blurred her vision as she crossed the street, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. After so many years of visiting Phineas every day, she could’ve walked this route with her eyes closed if she had to.

“Just keep walking, Isabella, just keep walking. ”

She just needed to get home. Home meant safety. Home meant comfort and security.

She used to feel that way about the house she was fleeing now.

Funny how time changed things.

Isabella made it to the porch. She fumbled around in her purse for a bit, trying to find the key by touch alone because she could barely see anything at this point.

“Just have to make it inside, just have to make it inside… .”

She found the key.

“Almost there, almost there.”

Isabella opened the door with shaky hands and quietly shut it behind her.

As the door shifted into place and the lock clicked, the flight-or-fight response that had been fueling her adrenaline for the past few minutes fizzled away, leaving only a weariness that felt uncomfortably familiar and yet heavier than anything she’d ever had to bear before.

When Isabella made it to her room, she grabbed a pillow from her bed, hugged it to her chest, and sat on the floor in a daze. After a few seconds of staring numbly at the ground, her lip quivered, and the dam in her heart finally crumbled as she started to sob.

For the next few minutes, Isabella clung to the pillow like a lifeline, mourning the loss of the easy friendship she’d rekindled with Phineas over the past couple of weeks and wishing more than anything that she could go back to this morning, to the smiles and laughter and way things used to be.

...how could she have tried to kiss him?

How could she have been so reckless? So careless??

“....it just felt so real…..” she whispered, as if to assure herself this mess wasn’t entirely her fault.

(Even though it totally was.)

None of it—the tentative flirting, the soft, adoring looks Phineas had given her, the way her hands had felt entwined with his—had seemed like a daydream. It hadn’t felt like a typical trip to Phineasland, where things were always just slightly off, just slightly too good to be true.

It really HAD seemed real.

And, perhaps parts of it had been real. Maybe they’d actually been holding hands—it wouldn’t have been the first time they did so while singing.

But Isabella couldn’t get Phineas’s reaction to their almost-kiss out of her head.

He’d looked completely, totally, utterly freaked out.

This meant he hadn’t wanted to kiss her.

It also meant she’d likely imagined most—if not all—of the little ways he’d appeared to reciprocate her feelings throughout the day.

...and it meant he almost certainly knew how she felt about him now...and wasn’t particularly thrilled about it.

This was just...the worst.

Isabella had worked so hard to get over Phineas for the sake of their friendship…and ultimately to the detriment of their friendship...for years. And then, within a couple of weeks, she’d dared to open her heart again, to open herself up to freely loving him again without expectations of being loved back, to contemplate the possibility of taking small steps towards a relationship with him when it seemed he might just like her too.

But she’d gone too far without even meaning to. And she’d blown it. Phineas didn’t love her. And now he probably didn’t even want to be her friend.

“Isabella...stop it.”

She was talking to herself now, trying to speak some sense into her brain.

“Phineas is still my friend…” she articulated. “...maybe things are going to be super awkward between us now but...he’s the nicest person ever. He would never stop being my friend…right?”

It was easy to speak these words aloud, to acknowledge that they were logical...but harder to see through the anxiety plaguing her in order to actually believe them.

And it was even harder to imagine her friendship with Phineas ever returning back to normal.

Because the desire. The aching, burning, desperate desire for Phineas to love her...to tell him she loved him so, SO much. The desire she’d vowed to get over years ago, that had been simmering on the backburner ever since she opened her heart back up to Phineas...it was boiling over now. After coming so close to kissing him, to finally revealing her feelings to him (for better or worse)...she couldn’t ignore it any longer.  

A part of her wanted to avoid the house across the street for forever and never face Phineas again, sure...but another part yearned to race back across the street and just tell him she was madly in love with him once and for all. Rip the bandaid off, you know?

Things couldn’t get much worse at this point, right? He probably already had a pretty good idea how she felt so she might as well just lay it all out on the table.

Yeah. Tell Phineas she loved him more than anything in the world and completely destroy what little semblance they had left of a friendship after whatever had happened in the recording studio.

…...that was a terrible idea.

But what was Isabella supposed to do now? How was she supposed to sit next to Phineas in class on Monday? And...oh gosh...they had to sing their song together AGAIN. FOR THE ENTIRE CLASS.

hOW was she supposed to get through that???

With a sigh, Isabella grasped for her phone and hesitantly opened up the “Fireside Girl Alum” group chat. She didn’t necessarily feel like roping the girls into this...frankly, she didn’t think they’d be able to understand how she was feeling right now...but she wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe they could help her come up with some sort of scheme to get out of the performance...it would be like they were kids all over again.

(Deep down, Isabella had no desire to return to the schemes and manipulated situations of her childhood….but what other choice did she have?)

Before she even started to type, though, a new message popped up on her phone.

It was from Ferb.

“Are you okay?”

A small smile appeared on Isabella’s face.

Ferb had never minded listening to her vent about Phineas when they were kids, and she appreciated his willingness to be there for her now. Her fingers hovered over the keypad to admit she was in fact not okay at all...but then she hesitated.

Because whenever Ferb was, Phineas was probably close by.

“is it safe to text you?” she asked.

Ferb’s reply came fast.

“Don’t worry, Phineas can’t see my phone. And I’ll delete these messages once we’re done: this will stay between us. I just want to make sure you’re alright. What happened?”

To an outsider, this exchange might have appeared strange...or even foolish. Was it really smart of Isabella to ramble about Phineas and her feelings for him to his brother? Wasn’t that sort of weird?

But Ferb and Isabella had been friends for a long time, and Isabella trusted him completely. She knew he’d never tell Phineas whatever she had to say...and she supposed he might be able to help her out too.

“I almost kissed Phineas…” she admitted. “I don’t even know how it happened, one minute we were singing and having fun...and the next I realized I was about to kiss him and pulled away because I didn’t want to freak him out. But I think I freaked him out anyway….I hope he’s alright.”

Ferb’s reply appeared a few seconds later.

“So you still love Phineas, right?”

Isabella couldn’t help but chuckle dryly at that.

Did she ever.

“Yeah...I tried to get over him but...it didn’t really work out…lol. I actually sort of thought he might like me back and was going to ask him out when we finished recording our song but...I don’t think that’s going to happen....now I’m afraid I imagined everything and that he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

She added on to that last message after sending it.  

“I know that sounds silly, Phineas is the friendliest person ever but...he looked so horrified after I tried to kiss him. I’m just scared I ruined everything.”

It took Ferb a bit longer to reply this time.

“Isabella, I can’t speak for Phineas, but if I know him, I know he’d never want to stop being your friend, no matter what. He cares about all his friends, and I know he must care an awful lot about you because you two are best friends.”

Isabella’s heart swelled at that.

Though she’d told herself something similar only minutes ago, the words rang far truer coming from Ferb than they sounded in her own voice.

“Thanks Ferb. That means a lot coming from you :)”

Another text from Ferb came through after a minute or so.

“Is there someone you can talk to about all this?”

Isabella considered the Fireside Girl group chat...and then sighed.

If she messaged them, they’d probably just send assurances of, “Oh, Isabella, of course Phineas likes you! How could he not?” This might make her feel better for a moment...but not for long.

Their words would not be based in truth...they’d only be telling her what she wanted to hear. And that wasn’t what she needed right now.

“No, not really...I don’t think the Fireside Girls would understand, and my mom is at work. But thanks. Just texting you has made me feel a bit better.”

Ferb didn’t text her back after that. Which was just as well...she supposed he was talking with Phineas. (Or listening to Phineas talk, anyway.)

….she really wished she could ask how he was doing.

But Ferb wouldn’t betray her trust to Phineas, so she couldn’t ask him to betray Phineas’s trust to her.

Imagining Phineas made Isabella’s heart ache all over again.

…..why did love have to hurt so much?

...

Hey. Are you busy?

no I’m free for a bit. what’s up?

Can you call Isabella for me?

I think she needs someone to talk to right now.

sure, but why me? wouldn’t she rather talk to you or Phineas?

wait this has something to do with Phineas doesn’t it

Yup.

oh boy. what happened?

Apparently they almost kissed. And then got freaked out.

I’m with Phineas right now but Isabella is by herself.

And if Phineas is any indication, she’s probably not in good shape.

oh yikes I’ll call her now

anything in particular you want me to say?

Just remind her how much Phineas cares about her.

That’s what I’m trying to do with Phineas right now.

But you can’t tell Isabella he’s in love with her.

They have to do that part on their own.

got if.

I mean got it.

give Phineas a hug for me

Thanks, and I will...he certainly needs it.

Love you

love you too bro :)

someday when they get married we’ll remember this and smile

...I hope you’re right.

...

Isabella startled when her phone started to vibrate...and her eyes widened when she realized who the caller was.

She picked up the phone and accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Isabella!!” the voice on the other end sang back. “It’s been a long time, huh? How are you?”

“Hey, Candace...uh….” Isabella rubbed her neck. “I...I’ve been better, actually…..”

Candace remained silent for a moment.

“...in retrospect, ‘how are you?’ probably wasn’t the best question to ask to kickstart this conversation...Ferb told me a bit about what happened between you and Phineas and asked me to call and check on you. Do you want to talk about it?”

A lump formed in Isabella’s throat, and she blinked away a few tears as a wave of gratitude rushed over her.

If anyone could help her talk through any anxiety concerning her relationship with Phineas, it was Candace. She’d dealt with her own share of self-induced romantic turmoil over the years, and she knew Phineas far better than any of the Fireside Girls did.

Ferb must have known that.

...the two of them were the best.

“Oh no, are you crying?” Candace asked. “Please don’t cry, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m fine!” Isabella insisted. “Well, I’m not fine...but...yeah. I want to talk about it. Thank you.”

“Ok good!” Candace replied. “But, first thing’s first, it’s past one o’clock. Have you eaten lunch yet? Because if not, go eat something right now. Even if it’s just a tub of ice cream. It’ll help.”

Isabella smiled and slowly rose from the floor with a sniffle. “Ok, I’m going.”

...

“.....so do you want to talk about it now?”

Phineas shook his head. The last time he’d talked about it, about Isabella and the recording studio, it had only made it feel more real. Maybe if he just didn’t talk about it anymore, his current predicament wouldn’t seem as bad as it actually was.

“...Phineas. Come on.”

No. Phineas didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even want to think about it.

Not how horrified Isabella had looked when she pulled away from him, not the way she’d practically flown out of the recording studio afterward, not the way he’d dared to hope she might like him too……

…..aaand now he was thinking about it.

Curse the complex workings of the human brain.

Phineas felt the bed shift beneath him as Ferb sat at his side.

“PHINEAS. Look at me. Let’s talk about this.”

Phineas stiffly lifted his head from his hands, wiping a few tears away from his face as he did so.

“WHAT, Ferb??” he exclaimed, an unfamiliar sharpness permeating his tone. “What do you want me to say? I thought Isabella liked me back, I was wrong! I got caught up in the moment and tried to kiss her and she didn’t want to kiss me and ran away!! And now I’ve probably ruined our friendship forever!! Which is just! The worst!! Because we were finally hanging out again and spending time together and I spent all of high school wanting to get that back, and when I finally got it back I MESSED IT UP. And now I’m afraid I’ll never even be able to look at Isabella again, much less sing with her at school this week. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now??”

Ferb offered his brother a small smile and patted him on the shoulder.

“Of course I’m not happy, Phineas. But that IS what I wanted to hear, so thank you. Now I have a better idea of what you’re struggling with, so I can figure out how to help.”

Guilt twisted in Phineas’s chest. Ferb was only trying to be there for him, to support him, and what was he doing? Yelling at him.

Gosh...first Phineas had jeopardized his friendship with Isabella and now he was taking his anger at himself out on Ferb?

What was wrong with him today??

“Ferb, I’m sorry….” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you….none of this is your fault, and I know you’re just trying to help...”

“I forgive you.” Ferb wrapped his arms around him. “And I get it. This stuff is hard.”

Phineas sniffled and let himself be held for a bit.

In moments like this, it was easy to remember that Ferb was a bit older than him and thus technically his big brother.

...Phineas wasn’t sure what he’d do without him.

“....thanks, bro. You’re the best.”

“Anytime…” Ferb replied.

“...this hug is from Candace, by the way…” he added thoughtfully. “She’s very concerned about you.”

Phineas chuckled and smiled softly. “Aww...Candace is the best too. Is that who you were texting a bit ago?”

Ferb twitched. “Yup.”

(Technically that wasn’t a lie.)

He sat back a bit and folded his arms in his lap. “So. You almost kissed Isabella, you’re worried she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore….it sounds to me like you’re dealing with a lot of fears right now. Am I right?”

Phineas considered this. “I mean...yeah, I guess I am. Like you said, I’m afraid Isabella doesn’t want to be my friend anymore, and that she thinks I’m weird, and that I’ll completely lose it the next time I see her, and that things will never be the same between us again, and—!”

“Ok, ok, I’m just going to stop you there,” Ferb interjected.

He was trying to calm Phineas down, not get him worked up again.

“First and foremost, Isabella is still your friend and still WANTS to be your friend. That isn’t speculation, it’s just a fact.”

Phineas raised an eyebrow at him. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

Ferb, of course, couldn’t go into specifics on how he knew he wasn’t just saying this to make Phineas feel better.

“Because Isabella’s my friend too, remember?” he countered. “I’ve known her almost as long as you have. And I know how much she cares about all her friends. That includes you. Especially you. Because you two are best friends, right?”

Phineas couldn’t help but smile fondly at that. “Yeah, we’re best friends…” A hint of sadness entered his eyes. “....at least...I hope we still are.”

“You are,” Ferb assured him. “Those kinds of friendships don’t just disappear after one awkward moment.”

“But...but Ferb…” Phineas shut his eyes and grimaced. “She looked SO freaked out after I almost kissed her….I mean, she has to know I have feelings for her now, right?”

Ferb shrugged, feigning ignorance.

He needed to change the subject. (Or at least divert it.)

“You said before the ‘almost-kiss’ happened, you thought Isabella might like you back,” he voiced. “Why?”

“Well…” Phineas’s gaze softened, and he blushed and smiled gently in spite of himself. “She kept smiling at me today. And holding my hand. And touching my shoulder. And looking at me in a way that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside….”

His smile faded.

“But then she ran away….so I think she was just being friendly.”

Ferb bit his tongue to stifle a groan. “ So close… .” he thought.

...maybe he could nudge Phineas towards the truth. Just a bit.

“You know, Phineas, in the recording studio earlier, did YOU get freaked out?”

“Oh gosh, I definitely did,” Phineas replied with a wince. “It was so awkward….UGH…..”

“So….”

Ferb had to tread verrrrry lightly here.

“If YOU got freaked out because you almost kissed Isabella even though you have feelings for her….maybe…..do you think……..”

He paused, hoping Phineas would fill in the blanks for him.

(Because he knew he was pushing it at this point.)

“What?” Phineas replied.

Ferb couldn’t take much more of this. His brother might have been nearing adulthood now, but he was just as oblivious as he’d been when they were kids.

“Maybe…...JUST MAYBE…..” Ferb proposed. “....she got freaked out for the same reason you got freaked out?”

He couldn’t flat-out give Isabella’s feelings away. But Phineas had already speculated she might like him back at this point, right?

So, really, Ferb was just nudging him back towards a possibility he’d already considered.

Phineas’s eyes widened as Ferb’s words sunk in. “But I only got freaked out because I didn’t want to mess up our friendship by kissing her...so….if SHE got freaked out for that reason….you….you think…..you think she might like me back after all? Are you sure? ...I’m just not sure…”

Ferb was going to scream. He was absolutely going to scream. This was ridiculous. Phineas was ridiculous. Isabella was ridiculous. They were both. Just. Ridiculous.

….which apparently made them ridiculously perfect for each other.

Ferb articulated his response as casually as he could.

“......I mean. Anything’s possible, right? But you’ll never know if you don’t try talking to her again.”

Phineas considered this. And he shuddered.

The thought of talking to Isabella when his most recent memory of her involved her staring at him with horror in her eyes and running away from him was just...a little too daunting.

“I….I just don’t know, Ferb…..” he voiced hesitantly. “What if—"

“No.” Ferb had had enough. “No what if’s. You love Isabella, right?”

“Well, yeah!! Of course I do, but—"

“And you love being her friend?”

“YES I love being her friend, that’s why I’m so scared to talk to her because she might say she doesn’t want to be friends anymore—"

“PHINEAS. WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS. She isn’t going to want to stop being your friend!!! And, besides, you can’t let fear stop you from pursuing what you love. In all the adventures we’ve had, every wild invention, weren’t you ever afraid?”

“Well sure I was, but—"

“But you didn’t let that fear stop you!! You pursued what you wanted anyway!! What makes this different?”

“Ferb, this isn’t an invention that will disappear when Mom gets home or an adventure that will come and go!!!!” Phineas countered. He sighed, eyes cast downward. “....Isabella is more important to me than any of that stuff…like, infinitely more important....”

It took Ferb a while to think of a suitable response to that.

Finally he took a deep breath.  “....if Isabella’s that important to you, Phineas, then she’s worth the risk. She’s worth overcoming that fear.

“I know you’re scared to lose her, Phineas...but, if nothing else, she’s your best friend. Don’t you want to spend time with her? To keep being her best friend?”

“.....more than anything…..” Phineas whispered softly.

“Then you HAVE to talk to her,” Ferb replied gently. “Even if you’re worried about what she might say.”

Phineas pondered this. “I….I know you’re right, Ferb….but...I’m still scared.”

He wanted to keep being Isabella’s friend, to laugh with her and hang out with her and maybe hold her hand again because he’d really, REALLY liked getting to hold her hand today.

But he couldn’t do that until he actually spoke to her. And figured out just what had changed between them.

The thought of doing that was terrifying.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Ferb replied. He ruffled Phineas’s hair and smiled. “That just shows how much you care. But you can be brave and fight through the fear anyway.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully and added, “I think Isabella is worth fighting for, don’t you?”

Phineas’s face brightened a bit.

Did the thought of talking to Isabella and walking with her and singing with her still tie his stomach in knots?

Yes. Yes it did.

But, he still wanted to be her friend.

And he still loved her.

...he really loved her.

“....she’s definitely worth fighting for….” Phineas agreed.

Ferb grinned and patted him on the back as he stood from the bed.  

“THAT’S the Phineas Flynn I know and love.”

He gave Phineas a hand and helped him to his feet.

“Now come on. It’s past one o’clock, we should eat.”

...

“...so, Isabella...let’s take a step back and go over everything we talked about.”

Isabella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking over the conversation she’d had with Candace over the past hour.

“Phineas and I are best friends, and at the end of the day, that’s what is most important and it won’t change.”

“Good. Keep going.”

“I don’t have to worry about him not liking me anymore because he’s quite literally the human embodiment of a beautiful ray of sunshine who cares about everyone and is just the most wonderful person ever.”

“....alright that’s not QUITE how I worded that point but, sure, sounds great.”

“It’s okay to be anxious, it’s a part of being human, but whenever anxious thoughts get the best of me, I can remind myself of what I know to be true—like, that Phineas and I are best friends—and it will help.”

“And?”

“...AND, if it doesn’t help, I can text you. Or Ferb. Or my mom. Or...or Phineas, if I’m anxious about something that doesn’t concern him.”

“VERY GOOD. When I first started dating Jeremy...and throughout my time dating Jeremy...Stacy was always there to listen to me vent, and it helped me a lot. Never feel like you have to keep all those worries bottled up inside, no matter how silly they may seem. Ferb and I are here for you!! And the Fireside Girls are too, although I understand why you didn’t want to talk to them about this.”

“Thank you so much, Candace….” Isabella said. “I still don’t know how Phineas will react when I see him again, but...I don’t feel as worried about it now.”

“I’m glad,” Candace replied. “And I bet he’ll be happy to see you.”

Isabella blushed in spite of herself...and then frowned. “How can you be sure?” she asked. “You didn’t see his face after I almost kissed him…I told you already, he looked super freaked out.”

“Maybe he was freaked out because he wanted to kiss you but you pulled away,” Candace replied without missing a beat.

And then she flinched. And bit her tongue. Because Ferb had said she was not to reveal Phineas’s feelings for Isabella under any circumstances and she’d just sort of. Accidentally done that.

But Isabella didn’t discern the truth woven into Candace’s words. “Yeah, sure, I suppose anything is possible,” she replied with a chuckle. “I highly doubt he wanted to kiss me, though...but I appreciate the thought.”

Candace let out an inaudible sigh of relief. For once, Isabella’s obliviousness to Phineas’s feelings for her was a blessing and not a curse.

“Well, I think Amanda just woke up from her nap,” she said. “Are you going to be okay if I end the call? What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“My mom will be home from work soon,” Isabella replied. “So I’ll probably talk to her about everything as well. And until she gets here, I’ll do some homework.”

“Ok, good!” Candace replied. “Just text me if you need anything. And keep me posted!! And, don’t worry...all this stuff between you and Phineas, it’ll work out.”

Isabella managed a laugh and replied, “I hope you’re right…. Thanks again, Candace. You’re the best.”

“Anytime, sister! Anytime. We should totally hang out the next time I’m in town. Maybe over the summer?”

“I’d love that!! Especially if I get to see Amanda again...she’s getting so BIG!!”

“I know!!! She’s growing so fast….aaand I’d better go, because she’s screaming now. Bye, Isabella!!”

“Bye, Candace!!”

Isabella ended the call with a smile on her face.

It felt good to have someone like Candace looking out for her....almost like a big sister.

She didn’t know what the future held for her and Phineas, and there were still a million doubts and worries swimming about in her head.

But now, at least, she knew how go about overcoming them.

...

The remainder of Saturday ambled by without much fanfare. Isabella and Phineas remained in their own respective houses, completing homework and spending time with their families.

They didn’t speak or see each other at all….but they were certainly in each other’s thoughts.

Sunday went by rather similarly.

Mostly.

It took Phineas nearly half an hour to work up the nerves to send an attachment of the duet to Isabella along with a text reading, “thought you might like to hear this! I think we sound pretty great. :)"

When Isabella received the notification, she had to take a few moments to dance around her room and whisper-scream because PHINEAS WAS TEXTING HER. PHINEAS STILL WANTED TO COMMUNICATE WITH HER. HE’D LISTENED TO THEIR DUET AND THOUGHT IT SOUNDED GOOD.

She listened to the song once. As she did, she tried to focus on the musicality of it as opposed to the memories it resurfaced of dancing with Phineas, of holding his hand...of almost kissing him.

From a purely musical standpoint, it sounded amazing.

She almost laughed when the recording faded out. Ms. Chase would never guess what had happened between her and Phineas once it stopped.

It took her a bit to think of the perfect reply to Phineas’s message. She typed and re-typed it at least a dozen times, battling a surge of anxious butterflies that grew larger and larger with each iteration she wrote….until she finally told herself to just send something and try not to worry about it.

“Thanks, Phineas! I think we sound great too. And thanks for putting the finishing touches on the recording, I appreciate it. :) I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Receiving a text from Isabella was like breaking through the surface of the ocean and taking a breath of fresh air. Phineas lunged for his phone as soon as it buzzed and read her response over and over, maybe a dozen times, his smile growing wider and wider every time. He even showed the message to Ferb, exclaiming, “Ferb!!! She replied to my text!!! She thinks we sounded good!!! And said thanks!! Twice!!!!! She said she’ll see me tomorrow!!!! AND SENT A SMILEY FACE!!!!!!”

Ferb just smiled knowingly “I told you she was still your friend.”

...

Isabella hesitated before opening the door and stepping outside.

She stared across the street and waited, fingers twitching, heart perhaps beating a bit faster than normal. She, Phineas, and (usually) Ferb had fallen into a habit of walking to school together every morning, ever since she and Phineas started working on their project...but was this habit broken now?

“ ...what if he already left? Or what if he’s waiting for me to leave? Because he doesn’t want to walk with me? Or be my friend?”

Isabella shook her head firmly and remembered her conversation with Candace.

“NO. Phineas is my friend. He wouldn’t leave without me, at least not without saying something. And Ferb wouldn’t leave without me either.”

She could wait a bit longer. And if Phineas and Ferb didn’t appear within a minute or so, she could cross the street and knock on their door herself.

...

Phineas lingered behind the door, hesitant to even look out the peephole.

“I thought we’d moved past this,” Ferb quipped as he came to stand at Phineas’s side. “Don’t we always walk to school with Isabella now? She’s probably already outside.”

“No, I’m not looking for Isabella, I’m….uh….trying to build up the courage to open the door…..” Phineas admitted. “I know she said ‘see you tomorrow’ last night but...what if she changed her mind? What if she isn’t out there? What if she’s already at school? Or she’s waiting for us to leave? Because she doesn’t want to walk with me?”

Ferb crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him, and Phineas rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Right, right...fight the fear...Isabella’s worth fighting for...I know…..”

He steeled his courage and, without even looking out the peephole, swung the door open.

And there she was. Isabella. His best friend. Standing across the street. Looking at him.

...smiling at him.

Phineas’s heart swelled.

He’d been afraid he’d never see Isabella’s smile again.

But there she was. Smiling.

He smiled back.

...

“....he’s smiling at me…..he’s SMILING AT ME! HE STILL WANTS TO BE FRIENDS!! CANDACE AND FERB WERE RIGHT!!!”

...

Isabella and Phineas met on the sidewalk in front of the Flynn-Fletcher house (like they always did). There was definitely a hesitance, a carefulness, in their demeanors...but they were together again.

And that’s what really mattered.

...

“...hi, Phineas! It’s nice to see you.”

“Hey, Isabella! It’s nice to see you too. ...how was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was good! I spent time with my mom, got started on a speech for Debate Club...caught up with an old friend...how was yours?”

“It was fine! I spent time with my family too, gave Perry a bath, got a head start on a history assignment I have due Friday…”

“Cool! How's your head doing?"

“Better! The bruise is fading a little each day.”

“Great! So....are you ready for class today?”

“Sure am! And I already emailed our song to Ms. Chase, just to be safe.”

“Oh, awesome! Thanks!”

“Well...I guess we should start walking, huh?”

“Oh! Yeah, we probably should.”

...

Phineas and Isabella settled into an easy rhythm as they started off in the direction of Danville High. Ferb fell in line beside them and listened as they chatted about their respective projects, about whether or not the history of the Tri-State Area was represented accurately in several songs written about it and about which Space Adventure season was the best.

A warm sense of relief swirled around the trio as they walked, propelling them forward into the day.

Phineas was relieved that Isabella was still comfortable walking and talking with him.

Isabella was relieved that Phineas was still comfortable walking and talking with her.

And Ferb was relieved for them (and relieved that his meddling had proven successful after all).

Isabella and Phineas didn’t dare bring up Saturday morning as they walked. (Deep down, they both knew they’d eventually have to talk about it....but for now, they were just glad to spend time together without things being awkward or unbearable. They could address the elephant in the room later.)

At one point, Isabella caught Ferb’s eye as Phineas stared ahead and gushed about why he thought the fourth season of Space Adventure was criminally underrated. She smiled warmly, glanced at Phineas and then back at him, and mouthed the words “ ...thank you… ”

(Because if it weren’t for Ferb and Candace, she probably wouldn’t be walking at Phineas’s side right now.)

Ferb smiled back and nodded his head….and then gestured first to himself, then to her and Phineas, before shrugging with a cheeky grin, as if to say:

“Turns out I was right, huh? Phineas still wants to be your friend after all. So are you going to ask him out?”

Isabella understood what he was trying to say well enough. She tersely shook her head and blushed before looking away.

Phineas still wanted to be her friend and spend time with her. She couldn’t even begin to consider asking him out right now and messing that up.

(Even if the desire to confess her feelings still tumbled restlessly her chest.)

For now, this? Walking together? Listening to Phineas ramble about Space Adventure with the same passion he used to delegate projects and motivate others? Feeling lighter and lighter with each step she took because just being close to him made her feel happier than anything or anyone else ever could?

It was enough.

In fact, it was more than enough.

It was everything.

...

Thanks so much for reading!!! This chapter was EXTREMELY therapeutic to write. 😅

I truly cannot express how thankful I am for all the support and love this fic has received. It means SO MUCH to me! You guys are just the best!!!!!

I don't have any doodles for this chapter (yet, lol), but I AM working on a Phinabella song/animatic that's unrelated to this story here on Tumblr if you want to check that out! :)

Thanks as always to @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for being a fabulous beta AND a fabulous human in general! :)

also today is @macaronsforchat‘s birthday!!!!! she’s been supporting this fic from the beginning so I would be remiss if I didn’t give her a shoutout. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEL!!!!!!! ILY!!!

Thanks again for reading, and I'll see you soonish for Chapter 8! :D

[petri808]

Hauntober prompt Ghost (sort of lol)

Bakudeku requested by @nona-inc Angst w/happy ending, AU modern times. Longer than I’d planned to write but stories go where they wanna lol.

Got the idea here

A Second Chance

In his adulthood, Izuku Midoriya did quite well for himself career-wise. He had a nice home and lived comfortably even though it was alone. Relationships had never really crossed his mind, which he chalked up to the turmoil of his childhood. It wasn’t a terribly horrible one but coming from divorced parents is never easy on young child minds. Why get close to anyone if they’ll probably leave eventually? That was a lesson bolstered by the end of primary school when his best friend ditched him for the popular kids.

It was Halloween night, and Izuku’s simply followed his normal routine after work consisting of dinner while watching a bit of television. Trick or treaters were a rarity in his neighborhood, so there was no sense in celebrating the holiday. As he waits for the news, he lets the current show drone on in the background while he scrolled mindlessly through his social media. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to what acquaintances posted and mostly looked for interesting or funny posts instead.

“Deku...”

Izuku’s brow furrows slightly at that ancient nickname. He looks at the television characters on the screen, had one of them said it? But instead of the tv show, he finds a fuzzy, staticky screen. He grabs his remote assuming something had gone wrong with the channel or service when...

“Deku, I’m sorry...”

“What the?” Izuku starts clicking the buttons and getting no response. The screen stays stuck, yet that voice... it was a familiar voice from long ago...

“...I’ve watched you from afar for all these years, because I could never admit how much I loved you and now it’s too late. I’m so sorry Deku. You’ll always be my only true love.”

Silence. Dead silence for a flash of a second when the television loudly blares back to life and startles Izuku out of his seat into a standing position. “What the fuck is going on?!”

The show had ended, and the news is now on in its regular-timed slot.

‘Breaking news, a major four car accident on the I10 highway has left 3 people dead and one in a critical condition. The victim identified as 37-year old K. Bakugou had been transported to the hospital for treatment. Police have closed off the highway in both directions, so anyone traveling in that area should use alternative routes...’

As he watches the footage of the accident story, Izuku’s hand unconscious covers his mouth and tears gather in his eyes. “Oh my gosh....” That was the voice he’d just heard! Of course, Katsuki was the only one who ever called him Deku.

He quickly calls one of the nurses at his hospital and they confirm that the man had in fact been transported there 15 minutes ago.

“Oh! Dr. Midoriya! We were just about to call you! Yes, patient Bakugou was brought in unconscious, lacerations to his arms and chest, broken leg, possible punctured lung, internal bleeding, concussion, and brain swelling which is why I was just about to call you in.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The entire way there, Izuku struggles to rationalize the message. If Katsuki was unconscious, how could that have been his voice? Then again that’s if you believed his television had somehow sent the message in the first place! Oh, this was entirely crazy! Izuku didn’t even know why his logical mind was allowing him to believe it had happened if not for the coincidence of the news coverage.

But as a neurosurgeon, he had to put all those questions aside and focus on the task at hand. The description the nurse had given him already indicated major problems, but it wasn’t until his own physical examination that determined the true extent of the damage. Primary surgical nurse Uraraka already had set up the operating room by the time Izuku arrived.

“The patient was revived once by EMTs in the ambulance and a second time in the ER after his heart stopped. Right now, the patient is intubated and prepped for emergency surgery.”

“Thank you, nurse Uraraka.”

Along with a fellow doctor, Izuku switched into a hyper focused mode. He works to repair the damage to the patient’s brain while the other doctor simultaneously focuses on internal chest injuries. Time was of the essence to stem the blood loss and mitigate further damage if they had any hope of saving the man, because even if he made it through the surgery, only a miracle would bring him back at this point.

It was now a waiting game. They keep Katsuki in a medically induced coma for the first three weeks as his body worked hard to repair itself. Once he was brought out of the induced coma, he still didn’t wake up, was breathing with the assistance of a machine, but at least the man’s heart was functioning normally. Surprisingly, Katsuki’s parents remembered Izuku and were grateful their son was in familiar hands. They’d initially flew in after the accident, but the cost to stay for such a long length of time would be too steep. So, after they returned home, he kept them up to date.

Each day that passed by, Izuku would check in on Katsuki’s progress like a normal doctor would, but at night he’d go home and ponder the ghostly message that had come through the television. He’d told no one about it because who would believe something so crazy? It just didn’t sound like the man, or rather child he remembered. Never once was there any indication Katsuki had romantic feelings for him, especially considering it was him not Izuku that ended their friendship. They saw each other in passing though middle, then high school and still nothing. So why is he now being told this?

Some say that when you die, any regrets you have must be released or your soul cannot ascend to the next plane. Izuku wasn’t religious or spiritual and before that Halloween trick he would have said he didn’t believe in anything beyond what he couldn’t see, touch, feel, and analyze. Ugh! Maybe that’s why this was all driving him so crazy. He wanted answers but the one person who could give it to him was stuck in a coma.

“Everything okay doctor?” One of the LPN’s asks Izuku. “I just need to check on the patients vitals.”

“Do what you need to nurse, I’m just visiting before I go home for the night.”

“Yes, doctor.” The woman makes her chart notations and leaves them alone again.

Because of Izuku’s standing at the hospital, he’d gotten Katsuki a private room. The man was taken off the breathing machine a week earlier and this way he could monitor the man without being pestered. There were times he would spend a few hours just watching the man sleep, trying to study what had become of his childhood friend. Through research, Izuku learned Katsuki had moved here around the same time that he’d started his internship at the hospital. Before that the man lived in the same town as the medical school he attended. It appeared Katsuki really was keeping track of Izuku, never married, and just worked in the marketing field.

Izuku squeezes the man’s hand with his eyes closed in a silent conversation. The only sounds being the beeps and noises of the machines to break the stillness. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t know what to think, what to feel, just that this man was dredging up long buried emotions that part of him was afraid to open up. Hadn’t he built up a good life, albeit a lonely one, it was still by his own wit and merits whereas Katsuki always had it so easy. The man was a smart, handsome jock, popular, and had been on track to do great things. While he was the geeky kid with freckles and wild green hair who the popular kids teased.

They were so close as little kids, all through preschool and the first years of primary. Katsuki was the extroverted one pulling him along on make believe adventures to emulate a shared love of a comic book character. In fact, it was with Katsuki’s help that he’d weathered his parent’s divorce. He idolized the stronger boy and wished he was Katsuki, not a weak like little nerd... perhaps having his child’s heart broken, really was the reason he swore off ever caring about anyone else again.

Did he just?! Izuku’s eyes pop open when his hand squeeze is returned by a weak one. Katsuki’s eyes are still closed and nothing else seemed unchanged. Perhaps it was just a nervous tremor, they happen sometimes. But no there it is again! Izuku stares down as the weak squeeze slowly turns into a grasp of his hand.

“Katsuki?”

A third squeeze. That meant the man was alert enough to hear and understand! Friend or not, it was the kind of thing to get a neurologist excited! Izuku quickly moved into doctor mode again and starts checking all the stats as well as alerting the nurse on shift.

“Welcome back Mister Bakugou.”

The man squeezes his hand.

“I’m your doctor, Midoriya. You might remember me...”

The man squeezes again and tries to talk, but after being intubated for a long time the throat tends to be dry, sore, and the muscles weakened. All that comes through is so faint it’s barely audible.

“Mister Bakugou, you’ve been unconscious for almost two months now, please try not to talk just yet, everything will be fine.”

But that only makes the man angrier. Furious red eyes flashing, Katsuki grips harder to Izuku’s hand using what little strength he has to try and pull him closer. So, Izuku leans in. “Calm down, it’s gonna...”

“Ma—y...” angry growling noises. “Mar...”

Obviously, the man wasn’t going to stop until he gave in, so Izuku leans in even more until his ear is practically next to Katsuki’s mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Marry me damnit!!”

Izuku shoots straight up. “What?!” Is the guy serious?! The first words out of his mouth is that?! Wow... Katsuki really hasn’t changed, feisty as ever even after almost dying.

“Pa-pa—per pen!”

“H-hold on, just try to calm down please! I don’t want you to strain your heart!”

Midoriya grabs the chart, flips the paper over to the blank backside, and puts a pen in Katsuki’s hand. He holds it steady as the man scribbled shakily. ‘No waste 2nd chance marry me Deku.’

“Mister Bakugou, this is...”

The man pounds his fist on the bed then scribbles more. ‘Stop call me that! nickname!’

Izuku sighs and squeezes his eyes closed for a second. He hadn’t used that name since primary just like he’d hadn’t heard Deku all these years. “Kacchan. Happy now? I-I can’t just say okay. You—y-you ditched me remember and now you suddenly pop up and expect me to marry you?! Kacchan you almost died, I get it, that’s a scary thing to deal with, but you just need time to process...”

Katsuki writes, ‘Nothin 2 think bout. No more regrets,’ Then he mouths out the rest in a whisper, “I love you Deku.”

Izuku sighs, “I’m not saying yes or no Kacchan. Just get well first okay, then we’ll talk about everything.”

“Fine.” The man closes his eyes again seemingly satisfied with the answer.

He squeezes Katsuki’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning Kacchan.”

When Izuku leaves that evening, he couldn’t help but walk out with a flutter in his chest and a pang in his heart. There really was a lot he still needed to get off his chest, but... he felt the honesty from Katsuki. If his dying regrets had been strong enough to reach him via spiritual mail, and the first thing he wanted to talk about was love, then... ‘take the second chance Izuku.’ Not everyone gets one.

[beautifulphoenixdoll]

CENTER OF HOPE

I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am ashamed to say that, and I shouldn’t be. I never judge anyone else or anyone else’s diagnosis. I did not ask for this condition. But I have it, like several millions who have mental health illnesses. For the first time in the history of the human species Mental Health is being discussed amongst each other openly in much more public avenues. That being said, I feel it is my due diligence to use my voice, and share what it has been like to live with Borderline Personality Disorder. Imagine a blister, fragile to the touch, prone to infection, with just a thin layer of skin protecting your insides from being exposed to collecting dirt or other bacteria that cause a fatal infection if untreated. A borderline female is a beautiful and chaotic thing. On one hand we tend to be the most loving, creative, sensitive, thoughtful, and compassionate beings. On the other we have spent our lives taking in messages and our surroundings and using them against ourselves, feeling controlled by our emotions, afraid of our own brains and the places our thoughts can lead us to. A common thread is that we mostly we have spent our lives in SO much pain. Pain that I would not wish on my worst enemy. Pain that a razor or blade soothe, for a blades sharp edge doesn’t even come close to how we are feeling inside but is sharp enough to distract us from the pain within. We are known to seek attention at any cost. Starving ourselves, or overeating. Whether its selling our bodies, offering our bodies, or treating our own like nothing more then a sexual object we seek the comfort of someone elses to let us know we are alright, that we are indeed desired, that we can be “loved”. Because we hate the skin were in. Because having someone’s hand on us even if it is just for a night means we don’t have to be alone.  Being Alone is the scariest place to be. Alone the pain is magnified and something that would rub a non bpd the wrong way could make us feel like we want to end it all and just die. We convince ourselves that living—living is just too hard, and that this pain…. This all consuming pain that cripples us physically, emotionally, spiritually—I  mean all around-- will never end. There are times where we see clearly. Those are the times we are happy to be alive. We get another day to enjoy the sun that beams brightly on our faces—you can see when were happy, when we are in love, when we believe in something positive and strongly—you will never question how we feel—for we cannot hide it… we are open souls and we are open hearted and the least judgemental creatures that are seeking to be understood while trying to understand our own sense of self. That is where Borderline Personality gets tricky--- especially young borderlines because our brains, sense of time, and worldly knowledge are still so far from being fully developed. Not only do we have a lot to learn but we have to learn it while our brain is on fire. And that is the thing—I Spent most of my life fighting my BPD symptoms on top of just trying to have a life, go to school, make friends, be a good daughter and sister, and girlfriend… and it was all just too much to take on. A simple task became the end of the world for me--- no one would ask someone to stitch up a hole on the back of their jeans while they were stuck in their house that was on fire surrounded by flames… they would tell them to get out. And that is how I felt—entitled to get out, in any way, any shape, or form… I just had to get out of my brain.  But in the moment how do you explain that to someone who doesn’t understand that sewing up a hole with needle and thread pushes you off the edge? And that was what it was like when I was emotionally dysregulated. I was and can be a DANGER to myself. I wouldn’t harm a fly-a rat-a mouse, but I am the most LETHAL when it comes to myself, and myself only. Some of us break things, I did. But only to demonstrate the rage that built up inside of me. Only to show people that inside I am indeed hurting to this amount. The desire to be understood, or for someone to tell us that they too feel similarly—is so needed and helpful in the most profound way. I say this because without meeting the wonderful human beings I have met in treatment facilities suffering from BPD or other mental health diagnosis—all with gifts and challenges and a battle to fight of their own-- I would never EVER have the courage to come forward and share my experience.

It is in breaking my anonymity that I want to share with everyone that suffers with a mental health diagnosis that you are not alone. That you have nothing to be ashamed of, and that you can have a healthy and productive life with a recovery plan. Mental Health Treatment is much like attending AA—you need a DAILY reprieve to battle your condition. Without a treatment plan, without the proper and continuous and regimented medication (if needed), therapy, support system, and schedule you will have a much rougher time combating whatever youre facing. Not only is mental health a booming topic of discussion but the field itself is growing in ways that are remarkable. I spent so long fighting my diagnosis, fighting the treatment, fighting taking medication, fighting was recommended because I did not want to have my diagnosis. I did not want to believe I was in a category of people that needed pills to function normally—but how many people take medication every day to make sure their bones stay strong, or help with their lactose intolerant problems?

Everyday I wake up and re commit to another day of making sure my mental health is my number one priority—and the first thing I do is reminding myself that I ACCEPT myself for everything that I am. That I am not my diagnosis but that I indeed have Borderline. With practice and effort the things that once seemed so heavy no longer are, but only because I have been attending a diagnostic program where I have been able to set up a structured schedule that I will maintain after leaving. I noticed that If I sleep at the same time and wake at the same time, I am a different person. I noticed that with daily physical exercise even if it means walking for an hour I feel much better about myself and my body stays energized. Meditation is so crucial. As long as I meditate once a day in the morning my entire day tends to go positively. I have become a huge fan of DBT. I was not always a fan- especially as an adolescent --- oh how against it I once was… The workbook and concepts that were (this is putting it lightly) mundane, boring, and militant are what my mind craves. I love the structure-I love what it has given back to me.

The young girl who was so terrified of herself and her own brain knows that feelings are just feelings—I mean I always understood that saying but I never had any control of my own feelings—I was a runner. You couldn’t get me to sit still, or spend an evening alone with having a complete meltdown EVER. I am so strong now that I laugh at that—I laugh because I am free. I am smiling as I write this because I know that I have the skills to face things, have done so here at lidner. I smashed the fear of having to sit through things, to get through things on my own that used to CONSUME me WHOLE—and now do it happily because that means that I AM in control not the other way around. Lindner and DBT has given me, myself back. There is not a better gift once can receive after being lost for so long.  I keep thinking gosh I want to share it with everyone—I feel like ive been given this secret remedy--- so I have never been more excited to start my life, to give back, to try and help others who are still struggling  battling themselves, their brains, their emotions this wonderful tool that not only has saved my life but has also given me myself back.

Can I say it again: I am in control of my emotions- I can sit with them- I can stay self regulated- I can challenge my thoughts and not be afraid- I handle crisis’ without making things worse and I definitely without a doubt have more better days then bad ones. Who would have ever thought this would happen? It surely feels like a dream, but its happened since January 7th 2021—and it will continue to happen because Ive been given the key, and its not going anywhere else except for in my daily routine.

[darkestwolfx]

Attack of the Reptiles - Re-Review #43

We’re in the centre of South Africa searching for the great horned ape today! Or rather, two humans?

I actually missed these two (probably not as much as Gordon though)! Buddy and Ellie are two of the good regulars that IR have on the books. But seriously, even Buddy asked;

“What could be worse than that?”

There’s always something to come when you say something like that on this show.

And this place doesn’t look at all creepy.

“These are badlands, very dangerous!”

Hmm... I wouldn’t have guessed.

I like this version better! You know before it became over run by giant reptiles. Even so, maybe this is a message we shouldn’t be messing around with nature.

“I’m not even going to think about how long that’s been there.”

How about all the way back when EOS was pinging Bagels everywhere at the end of ‘EOS’? That would be my best guess because I can’t imagine John as messy besides then. Anyhow, I love how he chucks it out of the way to become all IR business like.

“I checked the camera feed. Look what it’s filming now.”

“They’re either really into dirt or the camera’s been dropped. That’s not a good sign.”

“The guide said you’d have to be crazy to go in after them.”

“Oh, I’ll do it! We can’t let Buddy and Ellie disappear! They haven’t finished filming season 14 yet.”

We all know what that waiting for the next series to air is like.

“Yes! More adventure with the Pendergasts!”

That little dance he does gets me every time! It’s so realistically Gordon and the animation is on point.

“I’m such a huge fan!”

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

I love episodes where we get to see a bit of Scott and Gordon interaction. I mean, Virgil and Gordon, and Gordon and Alan both work great as duos, but there is still so much potential in scenes with these two. And there was a slight amendment to the launch sequence. After all, besides Brains, we’ve always seen Scott travelling alone in Thunderbird One.

“Do you have visual on ground?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then we need someone on the ground.”

“You’re clear. Ready to go into the unknown?”

Did anyone else here this line and instantly think Panic at the Disco? Or was that just me?

Is it a bird?

Is it a plane?

No, it’s a parachuting Tracy!

“Now to make a nice, soft landing. Oh no! Not exactly soft but it could have been worse.”

I’m holding off on commenting for a moment because-

“You just had to say something didn’t you?”

-Gordon said it for me for once!

He did stumble across Ellie though.

“Gordon Tracy!”

“I’m here to rescue you! Could you chuck me a rope?”

One of my favourite starts to a rescue. I’m not sure which is best - Scott and Ned, or Gordon and Ellie.

“We do search and rescue all the time. Couldn’t be simpler! Oops, sorry, did see the hole.”

“Uh, Gordon, that’s a footprint.”

“John, are you getting a life sign nearby?”

“Yeah, but judging by the size it has to be a glitch.”

“Nothing’s wrong with your equipment, John.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

I reckon that doesn’t normally happen when Gordon says that, but we’ll go with it for now. All that hushed whispering was great as well. A nice difference to the usual shouting and orders that we get over the comms links.

“Gordon, what’s going on down there?”

“I don’t know!”

Loved that moment.

“My pet store nightmare just came true.”

Giant reptiles? I think that’s a nightmare for many people.

Now, in the original TOS episode ‘Attack of the Alligators’, on which many parts of this one are based, the nightmare was Alan’s, but it completely makes sense to put Gordon in his place and it works really well in my opinion.

“I can’t see anything- woah!”

Yeah, really well done, Scott, nearly smash Thunderbird One to smithereens. Look where you’re going! Talk and look, I believe in you.

And now we move onto one of my definite favourite moments. Although, not quite the size of Thunderbird Four, me thinks.

“Do you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“And peppers.. and cucumbers...”

“This is no ordinary jungle. We’re running through a supersized vegetable garden!”

We could feed the world with vegetables that size! Or we could release and single? Opinions?

I’m still not sure what was up with all the ‘Thunderbirds are Go’ title cuts that ran through this episode. It’s like they thought it would be too short without them, because I know they aired the episodes without advert breaks. Interesting. It happens about 4 times though and it’s actually really irritating.

“We’re safe for the moment.”

“But how? Who sealed the door?”

“That would be me love!”

“Buddy! You’re alive!”

I love how they’ve been running around looking for him, and here Buddy was, sitting pretty the entire time. All’s well and that’s all that matters, right? Right. Also, I still love how there is a character with a disability so openly shown on a program like this. It’s an absolutely brilliant choice.

“Orchard Industries.”

“John, can you check on that?”

“Orchard industries claim that they could greatly increase the size of crops. But they were shut down years ago.”

Yep, in TOS, Professor Orchard created said growth serum with carries this plot.

“Does it say why?

“The GDF found out The Hood was a silent partner. And there were reports of secret facilities in hidden locations. According to my files they were experimenting with a new type of growth serum.”

The Hood didn’t have any involvement in the original story, but the serum did catch eyes and there was an attempt to steal it, potentially with intent to sell it on, so The Hood could always have heard about it and been a perspective buyer.

“Well that explains the humongous plants out front.”

“And if the reptiles ate those serum filled plants, that would explain how they got so big! Scott, please get us out of here.”

Call on big brother for a rescue. Classic.

Gordon sneezing! Brilliant. I can imagine this was a little bit of a dream situation for him for a moment though - you know, taking away the giant reptiles and the allergies and the danger, and... well, maybe everything save Buddy and Ellie.

“It’s a hover boat. We have a hover boat!”

“And this canal could take us all the way to the river. If the boat was working that is?”

“I just need a hypo-spanner to fix it.”

“The good news is, I know where you can find one.”

“And the bad news? I had to ask.”

Yes, Gordon, you did.

And so, here we go. The desperate attempt to obtain the hypospanner from within the cluster of giant reptiles which nearly ends early when Buddy let’s the wire slip. And then does nearly end abruptly - after some success - when the clip breaks away.

“I’m not very tasty...”

Says you, Gordon, and I’m kinda hoping that you wouldn’t be certain of that.

“Hey, come and get us you overgrown amphibians.”

“They’re reptiles love.”

“Common mistake.”

Um... no comment.

Look, it’s Gordon of the Jungle! I think he’s been watching too many movies.

“I’ll give up celery crunch bars for a year is you please just start.... Yes!”

I would hold off on the cheering, Gordon. Gosh, think how much money will be saved on the shopping!

This is definitely another brilliant episode though. Very Gordon centric, but giving him a story where he definitely has to work out of his comfort zone of the ocean. Scott has to cope with hovering above doing very little actually - which was probably a struggle for him, and John really needs to clean Thunderbird Five.

“What an adventure!”

“Season 15 is just around the corner!”

“You’re doing another season! Oh, wait till I tell Alan!”

“I just hope we have enough material. Occasionally we’re told our show is too far-fetched.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

I love the repetition of certain lines in this episode - it adds to the humour.

“You shouldn’t have. You really, really shouldn’t have”

“Aww, they’re cute.”

Once again, in the original, Tin-Tin bought Alan a Pigmy alligator at the end of the episode as a birthday present, but Buddy and Ellie get Gordon two for saving their lives! That was classic and Gordon’s reaction was perfect. He really must enjoy being their number one fan now! And did Scott actually coo? I think he did.

But, they do look kinda cute...

Cuter than these fella’s were at least;

Sorry this one’s a little short - today is a poor internet day, so I had to take what I could get.

[mooswords]

OKAY MOO, I’M CURRENTLY READING UR FIC “Home” AND I’M— THE END OF THE FIRST PART WAS SO BEAUTIFUL. “he always comes home” -> IT’S SUCH A BEAUTIFUL CONTRAST TO THE BEGINNING!!! he gets lost in his OWN fields, and that’s saying something. however, despite that, the reader still being reassured (or as much as she can reassure herself) that he always comes home = he has the red string to BRING HIMSELF BACK TO THE READER = ALWAYS COMING HOME. I’M!!!! and i love the silly banter that opened the story. aLso HIS HESISTATION OVER TELLING THE READER THE JOB HE WAS ASSIGNED... BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED ABT THE READER.... AKDKSKKSKS. the fact he didn’t accept the offer immediately DESPITE being so in love with the sea and waited for reader’s permission is such a SMALL thing, but when you describe his love for the sea as superior, that action shows he loves the reader even more and i just- SLKDKAKDKSK. i might be over-reading and i apologise if i do bUT DO COMMENT ON IT THANK U!! 🤩💜 - ava

u sent me these eons ago and i promise i wasnt ignoring you ive just been working like 10 hour days and i am Exhausted 😭😭 but all of these messages legitamately give me life, i am so incredibly grateful! <3 im so so glad you enjoyed this fic!! and you are NOT OVERREADING I LOVE TO SEE YOUR INSIGHTS!!!! it makes me fall back in love with the fic all over again! <3 

i am SO glad that him always coming home comes through! because it gets kinda dire in the middle of the fic so i wanted there to be that hope at the back of your mind that knew he always came home. but i wanted you to be stressed about it still so :) and silly banter is my favourite part of writing this guy, i had so much fun with it alskdf.

and ok i love u, you got everything i was trying to do there <33 like i was struggling to find the balance between her reluctance and supportiveness. thats a fun (and tricky) thing about established relationship fics i find... theres that depth of understanding that can make the interactions more interesting, but so much of it is unspoken. it was a good challenge! so its so GOOD to hear that it vibes right hehe

THE WAY KUROO PLAYS WITH THE STRING!!! THAT WAS SUCH A FOND MOMENT OMG AKDKSKDK. and it’s so interesting that it appeared before kuroo even left 👀👀👀

she already missed him 🥺🥺 i originally had him tug on her hair and then i went!!! wait!!!! we can do better than that!!!!!!!!

READER IS LOST WITHOUT KUROOO!!!! AKDKSKSK and i also love the little addition where despite it being a POUT, she holds it close to her heart. with the context of their banters + that little scene, it just shows me how much each appreciate every ounce of the other party which makes me SO SO SO SOFT AKDJSKDKSK. and then hitting me with the scene where reader is eating a meal alone??? a punch in the gut. when she realised she’s alone I TOO remembered that kuroo is gone and that softness established in the previous scene is sUCKED OUT—ASKDKSKSKSK. 

im just a little obsessed with the little things and gestures that make u fall in love with someone? like the specific way my friend twirls her pen while were in lectures, or how my dad has that one little smile when hes amused himself with his own joke... and for that to be a last lifeline for her to hold on to before he leaves :’))) I JUST LOVE EST RELATIONSHIP FICS OK?!

hehehe yes im sorry about that puch to the gut oops 😇 that was a scene i had super clear in my head before i started - the bright, bright string against the relative drab of the table and room.

i’m at the part where reader gets lost and let me tell u, the fact they have a WAY to communicate via string pulling alone is SO ENDEARING and just subtly hints they have been at this whole red string thing for AGES (or at least enough to form such an understanding). that’s ADORABLE and really strengthens the bonds they have together 

yessssssssssss as soon as i thought of this idea i knew it had to be an established relationship. i have it in my brain they have been married maybe 2-3 years?? i am such a sucker for unspoken understanding relationships :’)

“You push hurriedly through the crowd, ducking between market stalls and wagons. There’s no string to follow, but you don’t need it to find him today.” THIS SENTENCE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL in the context of the entire story. and what a perfect way to describe/show the reader that it’s THE DAY. MOO, you’re really serving such great kuroo x reader stories please continue AHHAHA

this entire fic was so self indulgent please dshlfkljadsb but im glad u like this line!! i tend to try visualise the scene like a movie first? and then write it, and this was also one of the first scenes that was super clear in my brain :D

402 DAYS!!!! I SEE WHAT U DID THERE 👀👀 also, is this is a little hint to how u had to wait until the end to see timeskip kuroo? HAHAHA that wld be adorable

WAIT YO THATS CLEVER? I DIDT EVEN- ava when i say that is a COMPLETE coincidence... i literally just picked a number that was longer than 365 days... breaking news i am a secret genius JKBDSCN

i also really liked the “in-between”: of reader’s life without kuroo. u can really see how integrated they are to each other’s lifestyle, and not only that, the scene where reader handles a twin’s birth (to me) strengthens how they’re reallllly soulmates. there is a low chance that kuroo knew reader was in a desperate situation, yet he pulled on the string at the time reader needed it. it’s just—telapathy but not really + soulmate system = SOULMATES. do i make sense? and i really love the details, like how we can trace back kuroo’s scar to a moment of reader’s life in the fic. putting it at the end sort of makes me reflect on their situations that happened simultaneously yet not really. it sort of fills me in with this,,, space. that the earth is so wide. i understand deeper what reader means by “oh he’s going to be gone for so long”. it’s just. wow. the earth is so big yk.

YES YOU MAKE TOTAL SENSE!!! it's such a lovey way of looking at it :') can they communicate and understand eachother like this cuz theyre soulmates? or just because they love each other and have learnt the other inside out?? hhnn this is why i love soulmate aus, theres so much to pull apart!!!

and ok yes on the topic of how big the earth is... im so glad u mentioned this, its my favourite part because (not to get like... super sappy or anything) i was writing this through the toughest stages of our second lockdown. our restrictions got to the point we werent allowed further than 5km from out homes, so writing about freedom and big spaces and exploration of far off places was such a nice escape for me :’) this fic has ended up very close to my heart. (plus i was reading @/w-yuren’s hq0819 series at the time so i had travel and adventure on the brain hehe) 

THE ENDING.... THE ENDING.... THE WAY KUROO ASKED READER TO KI** HIM—IT’S LIKE THE KUROO IN MY HEAD YESSSSS. Gosh, this line too “when he kisses you he tastes like the sea; like salt-spray and dry rations and freedom.” may i have a director’s cut abt it :3 AND AKDJSKSK. i really love how the string appeared even tho they were together (the scene before kuroo docked on the ship) and once again, they are together, but none of them are lost because they r together-together. do i make sense? am i overreading things??? again, i have to comment on the banter. it’s simply amazing. kuroo’s replies are so,, KUROO, and they are filled with such FONDNESS I’M SO AKDKSKSK.

IM SO GLAD HE VIBES THANK U I THINK THE FONDNESS IS MY BIAS SHOWING BUT SHHHHH ;P you have picked one of my favourite lines out heheh it was one that just flowed out and wasnt one i particularly had to think about which is always nice. but i think it is a combo of me trying to be fancy lol and me being a huge fan of fantasy-books-set-on-ships. think like explorers or pirates, some rag tag bunch who have to set off on some quest and come back with some of that wildness imbued in their very being... yeah this line was definitely born from me Yearning i think :P

ooo do you mean the wedding scene? that was me trying to hit the ‘feeling lost in a crowd’ idea. you know when youre surrounded by people and joy and laughter and you just feel very small and disconnected? that.

ALSO READER’S DYANAMICS WITH KARASUNO CHARACTERS IS ADORABLE AKDKSKSKK. the festival scene was such a breather and it was adorable to see her interact with those characters. it feels like a snapshot in her life i simply adore that :3

ahh yea! i wanted her to have a life, you know? shes not the type to mope around, like life goes on. that doesnt mean she doesnt miss him oof but theres a whole community around to support her too!! and im very fond of takeda in this scene :’) he takes care of his crows <3

I RAMBLED SO BAD BUT THANK U AGAIN LOVELY I CANT EXPLAIN HOW AMAZING THESE ARE TO RECIEVE <3  

[himbowelsh]

Oh my lord, I went through your shiftab tag and read the secret admirer oneshot, it was so cute! 😭 I know you aren't taking requests for those particular prompts but if possible, could you write a similar 'secret admirer' storyline for winnix or baberoe? Gosh please I'd die of happiness!

i have...  done the thing.  went with baberoe, because honestly i’m never not craving more content between those two, and there are considerably more ghosts than you probably wanted, but i really hope you enjoy, darling!!!

(read here on ao3)

Every one of his better instincts — and, contrary to popular belief, Babe does have a few — is screaming that this is an awful idea.

Quit your Irish dancing around the problem and fuckin’ do it, Bill would say, if only Bill were here. Babe knows exactly what advice Bill Guarnere would give — he can hear it in Bill’s voice, like the man’s shouting it, an entire ocean away. Still, an imagined echo is no substitute for the real thing. Babe can dream up as many Guarnere platitudes as his brain can handle... but they still won’t solve the problem in front of him now.

Namely, a blank piece of paper.

“God dammit,” he says out loud. “I don’t know how to do this.”

There’s no one around to hear him. More and more nowadays, there isn’t. He never used to talk to himself before — that was always something crazy people did, in Babe’s experience, and he could be called a lot of things, but crazy was never one of ‘em. People like Crazy Joe McKloskey could stand on the street corner talking to a lamppost like it could understand him. That’s fine, because it was crazy Joe. Babe Heffron, who delivered papers and chased his brothers through the backstreets of South Philly, never talked to himself... maybe because he was never alone.

To be fair, he’s at war, and it’s tough to be alone in a company of a hundred other guys. He’s gotten good at it, though. Gene was the one who showed him how to seek out peace when he needed it, taught him all the good places to hide, how to go away somewhere in your head the rest of the world couldn’t reach. He’d never needed those skills before, but now that he’s learned them, they’ve proved invaluable. More and more nowadays, with nothing to do but soak in the Austrian summer, Babe finds himself wanting to be alone.

Yeah, sometimes he talks to himself... only because the people he wants to be around, the people who damn well should be here, aren’t. 

You’re overthinking it, the voice in his head that sounds too much like Julian declares. When Babe looks up, he can almost see him — his old buddy, leaning back on a crate on the other side of the musky garret room. Julian has a way of lounging that was so casual it made him look boneless. He was a spreader, too — how many damn times did Babe have to shove him to the other side of the foxhole because Julian’s knee was digging into one of his damn organs? The kid liked to take up space. His ghost absorbs it now, studying Babe with a sort of mocking smirk. Look. Practically tearing your hair out, and you’ve barely even written a word yet.

“Yeah, well, it’s harder than you’d think.”

Babe’s not a letter writer. He never has been. His wrists cramp up when he holds a pen too long, and he can’t find the words anyways. His kid sister writes long letters, filled with funny anecdotes and memories from home; his Ma’s letters are shorter, succinct, and bluntly affectionate. Even Bill sent a message, after agonizing months of silence, letting the whole company know he’s doing alright, back home in the states. Babe treasures every letter he receives, tucking them away in his trunk between his underwear and his Bible... but the entire war, he’s only written his family three times. So far, he can’t bring himself to write to Bill at all.

Yeah, because you’re a lazy bum. There’s Old Guarnere again. He’s standing next to Julian — on both legs, whole and healthy — arms crossed as he blatantly judges Babe’s writing ability. The ceiling’s so low, on a steady downward slope, that Bill’s head hits it every time he moves. Babe can see the disgruntled faces he makes, clear as day, and it draws a laugh from him in spite of himself.

“I just — it can’t be any old letter, okay? It’s gotta be perfect. I need it to be perfect.”

You need to take a nap and quit pretending you’re a better writer than you are, Bill scoffs. When has anything you’ve ever written been perfect?

Babe presses his palm hard against his forehead, fingers tugging at his uncombed mess of hair. “That’s the problem, dammit. It ain’t gonna be perfect... but it’s what he deserves.”

If this goddamn war has taught him anything, it’s that Eugene Roe deserves nothing less than the best. The war sure hasn’t been shy about giving him the worst, over and over again. Gene’s hands have been stained with so much blood that it’s a wonder he can still look at them — can still go about his life as normal, humoring nervous patients and summoning a smile when the other fellas rib him — when he’s dealt with more shit than any of them. Babe just heard about his best friend getting his leg blown off. Gene was the one on his knees in the snow, scrambling to save Bill’s life. Yet when Babe retreated into himself afterwards, grief-stricken and reeling, Gene was the one who anchored him to earth. His quiet conversation and soft smiles put Babe back together, piece by piece at a time. He’s got a gift for healing, in ways he doesn’t even realize. A guy like that... deserves every good thing in the world, and Babe wants to hand them all to him.

As it is, he can’t even write one lousy letter.

“He’s gonna hate it. He’s gonna... throw it right back in my face, cause he realizes he’s talking to a guy who can’t spell ‘adoration’. He’s gonna... he’s gonna...”

Laugh. Except that’s not like Gene at all. Be goddamn disgusted... except Babe knows Gene well enough by now to know that’s not like him either. It’s hard to tell with other guys, especially in the army, where shared foxholes can so easily blur the lines between friend and lover... but he’s seen a gleam in Gene’s eyes when other fellas talk about Rita Hayworth and Betty Grable, like he’s just humoring the conversation while wishing it’d go somewhere else. Babe knows the feeling. No, Gene could do anything, but he wouldn’t be disgusted that a guy loves him.

Maybe... just that it’s Babe.

Now you’re really being an idiot, Julian moans, tipping his head back towards the sky. Babe’s first instinct is to throw something at him — the hand holding his pencil twitches, but he’s only got one, and there’s no satisfaction in swinging at ghosts.

 “I don’t know what to say,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw again. Dear Gene, the letter reads. I’m writing because I need to tell you...

That’s as far as he’s got. Not even a full goddamn sentence.

Have you considered... you’re overthinking it? You’ve gotta actually write something before deciding you hate what you’ve written.

“Julian, you’re a regular goddamn philosophizer.”

I’m just saying! 

Suddenly, Julian is no longer on the other side of the room. He’s looming right over Babe’s shoulder, his presence like a weight bearing down on Babe’s back. Every twitch of his hand is being observed, every uncertain breath noted. Geez, he didn’t crack during jump school training, but this pressure is enough to split him in two.

“Forget it!” Babe exclaims, throwing the pencil down onto the paper. “This was a stupid idea, I give up!”

No, you fucking are not.

There’s Bill again — Bill Guarnere, and his unbeatable determination to butt his head into everyone else’s business. Babe lifts his head, glaring into the spot he imagines his best friend standing. Bill’s answering glare is an echo of the real thing… and Christ, what Babe wouldn't do to see that familiar scowl right in front of him, for real! Bill always made things simple. There was no overthinking when he was around. When Babe was being an idiot, Bill told him.

I’m telling you right now, jackass — you're being an idiot.

“And you’re winning motivational speaker of the goddamn year.”

I’m not trying to win anything here. You are, and doing a piss-poor job of it. I could cry just lookin’ at you. Look at this — ‘I’m writing because’? What kinda opening line is that? Did they not teach you how to write letters in grade school, or were them nuns too busy beating the ginger outta your hair?

“Trying their best,” Babe mutters, subconsciously rubbing the back of his head, where the phantom rap of a nun’s knuckles still stings. Today’s a day for phantoms, he guesses. While Julian cackles begins him, Bill’s specter crosses to the desk, hovering over Babe’s paper with a critical eye.

No, he finally declares, like he’s handing Babe’s bayonet back with instructions to polish it all over again. That’s it. You can’t do this.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Babe exclaims, grateful to hear his subconscious finally agreeing.

You ain’t gonna be able to do this… Bill turns, then reels back around, sticking a finger in Babe’s face. So long as you keep thinking ‘bout what he’s gonna do when you hand it to him. What he’s gonna say once he reads it. You gotta write something before he can read it, you realize that, Babe? And you haven’t written a goddamn word worth reading so far. 

Babe assumes there’s a point here somewhere. He curls his fingers around the edge of the letter, waiting for it.

So, if you can’t get outta your own head… then write it as somebody else.

Bill grins, broad and shameless, like he always does when he ain’t making a lick of sense.

“You lost me,” Babe says. “Way back there.”

Keep the letter anonymous, Babe! Bill’s imagined face twists in frustration, his hand coming down to tap the paper. The silent impact rings in Babe’s ears. Don’t sign the thing. Leave it somewhere Doc will find it, and see what he does.

“That defeats the whole purpose of telling him how I feel!” Babe exclaims.

And how much luck are you having with that? demands Julian, coming to stand at Bill’s side. The two of them cross their arms, staring down at Babe with unabashed judgement. Burdened by the weird feeling that he’s being bullied by his own subconscious, he picks up his pencil again. What would Gene’s reaction be to finding a love letter unsigned? Babe imagines him pulling it out from under his pillow, or finding an envelope with his name on it at his makeshift aid station in the basement of Easy’s billets. How his long fingers would unfurl the paper, his lips mouthing the words silently as he read along… how his brows would furrow slowly, disbelief and awe swirling in the dark pools of his eyes… how eventually he’d look up, see Babe standing there waiting on him, and murmur, “Heffron, you’re not gonna believe this…”

And then what? Babe would pull Gene into his arms, and admit he’s loved him all along?

No. No way, not him. Not in this lifetime, at least.

Overthinking, Julian’s voice chimes again, and Babe’s never felt more tempted to swing at a ghost. Will you just write it already?

“Fine, goddammit!” Babe hisses. It’s frustration, really, that gets him to whip out a fresh sheet of paper… and as soon as he starts to write, the words flow from his pen like a dam’s burst open.

See you every day… know your heart… your caring… your sense of humor... impossible not to love you… wouldn’t know how to stop if I tried… love you more than I know what to do with.

I love you.

I’m in love with you, Eugene Roe.

Whatever you want is up to you… but I wrote this letter because I need to let you know.

He doesn’t sign it.

The envelope seals like a promise fulfilled; and when Babe looks up, he’s in the tiny attic alone.

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

It’s just his luck that Gene doesn’t spot the letter until Babe’s standing right next to him, alone in the cozy little infirmary.

Gene doesn’t miss a beat. “Hey,” he says, picking the letter up. “Babe, what’s this?”

There’s nothing on it, is the thing! No way to tell where it came from, and he knows Gene isn’t familiar enough with his handwriting to pick it out of a lineup. Babe stumbles back a step, alarm spiking as Gene holds the letter up. Playing dumb’s his only chance.

“Uhh… looks like a letter, maybe?”

Okay, not that dumb.

“Maybe,” echoes Gene, thoughtful, as he turns the envelope over in his hands. When his gaze is no longer piercing him, Babe can breathe again.

“Where’d you find it?”

“Someone left it on the chair. I sat on it.”

“Wow.” Wow, Babe. Just… wow. “You know, uhh, Vest made his rounds a little while ago, maybe something slipped from his pile. Or maybe he’s playing a joke, huh, you know that Vest —“

Why the hell is he implying Vest wrote his love letter?

“Doubt it was Vest,” Gene mutters, fingernail playing underneath the envelope’s fold as he carefully opens it. He even pries open mail like a doctor, slow and precise. Something in Babe’s heart soars at this tiny detail, and he almost wants to go to his knees in front of Gene right there.

“Well, it had to be someone,” he says instead, taking another few steps back. When he chuckles, it sounds shrill to his ears — like he’s fighting off the urge to scream. God dammit, Heffron, you’ve got all the subtlety of a rock, why’d you think this was a good idea?

It’s not. This is a horrible idea. He can’t look Gene in the face while he’s reading the letter, and if Babe stays here one more minute, he’s gonna give himself away. “Sorry, Gene, but I gotta go now — told Liebgott I’d help him with, uhh, this thing that he — needed help with, and… so yeah, I gotta do that.”

Gene looks up at him, distracted from the letter. Babe manages a grimace, and a tiny wave. “See ya!”

He can’t get out of the basement fast enough. Behind him is only silence, as Gene Roe begins to read.

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

Gene finds him much later that night, after the sun has already set over Zell-Am-See, painting the town in violet and blue. The late summer sky has always spoken to Babe in a way he can never explain, like a fist locking inside his chest and trying to tug his heart out. It’s nostalgia for a place far away, and a time he can’t return to. As daylight slowly fades out into inky darkness, Babe watches the sky, lost in a time when everything was simpler.

He doesn’t hear Gene coming until he drops onto the window ledge beside him. Babe isn’t jumpy, and Gene’s never startled him yet, so he doesn’t tumble over to the street below in shock… but the look on Gene’s face almost sends him jumping the fifteen feet down.

“Hey, Gene,” he says instead, quickly looking back out at the horizon.

“Hey.” Gene lets the word linger. He fumbles with a cigarette, long fingers moving deftly as he maneuvers his lighter. He gets it lit, and holds it out generously. Babe’s nerves would like nothing more, but his balance can’t take holding onto this will with just one hand. He shakes his head. With a shrug, Gene tucks the cigarette between his own pursed lips.

“You close up shop for the night?”

“Yeah. Unless someone stumbles around drunk and ends up knocking their head… or gets hit with a dart again. Had to pull it outta Perconte’s shoulder the last time.”

“Think I heard that from upstairs. Screaming like a cat the whole time, huh?”

“The man’s been shot before, and he complained less.” Gene exhales through his nose, blowing two long lines of smoke into the air. Babe’s eyes linger on it, transfixed.

“You, uhh —“ Suddenly, he’s frightened of silence, but his mind’s too scattered to keep a conversation in one place. “You get dinner?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

Quiet again. Christ, even when he was a kid, Babe could never stand the quiet; his Ma sometimes pushed him out of the house and locked the door behind him, just to get some peace. Why is it so hard to find words now?

“Look, Heffron —“ Gene starts, and the exact moment Babe blurts out, “Gene —“

They both go silent, staring at each other. Babe inhales, holding the breath in his chest until he feels like he’s gonna burst with it.

A familiar voice in his head — the one that’s a dead-ringer for Bill Guarnere — groans, Will you please spit it the hell out already?

“So,” Babe says, “the letter.”

“Yeah,” says Gene. His gaze doesn’t leave Babe’s, sharp as a needle.

“Look, I wanted to —“

“I know,” says Gene.

“I wanted to say —“

“Babe,” Gene cuts in. “I know.”

Finally, Babe meets his gaze head-on. It’s never possible to read what’s going on in Gene’s head, but his face gives something away, sometimes. The way the corners of his lips twitch when he’s trying not to laugh; the line that appears between his eyebrows when he’s really worried; the way his eyes go soft when he knows someone needs comforting, and turn to hot coals when he’s furious.

Right now, Babe can’t pick a damn thing out of Gene’s expression… but his eyes are very, very soft. It feels like a punch to the stomach.

“You know,” he says slowly, “but…”

The words linger between them for a long, charged moment. Babe’s chest feels like it’s caught in a compactor, being slowly squeezed until his lungs burst and his ribs turn to dust. He huffs out a laugh — a dry, desperate thing. “Jesus, Gene, you look like you’re about to break my heart.” Gene still doesn’t say a word; Babe looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Why’s it you doctors just love to drag things out? Rip off the band-aid quick, and save us both the trouble.”

“Edward,” he says gently, laying a hand over Babe’s own. Babe jerks away like he’s been stung.

“Don’t Edward me right now!”

“Babe,” Gene says, and his voice is softer than ever. Babe’s throat is tight, eyes stinging… but damned if he’ll let himself cry over this, not where Gene can see. Christ, he’s an idiot. He’s so stupid, he should never have done anything, why did he even think —

“I have known... for a while, now. Didn’t need a letter to tell me some things.” Gene pauses, like he’s chewing over the words, before adding, “But it was good to read. Just to know.”

“Now you know,” Babe replies, and inhales a deep breath. “You happy now?”

Gene doesn’t answer. When Babe risks a glance over, Gene isn’t looking at him at all anymore; his eyes are on the sky, watching as the first pinpricks of starlight pierce through the indigo curtain. He looks thoughtful, almost mournful. It gouges something in Babe’s chest.

“Gene,” he says again. “Are you happy?”

“I don’t know.” When Gene inhales, it’s almost like a whisper. When he exhales, it’s like he’s singing to the night air. “Thought about it for a long time. Trying to figure out how I feel.”

“You’ve had a whole afternoon to do it. You get it all sorted out yet?”

“Longer than that,” Gene replies. His gaze flickers over to him. “I told you, Babe. I knew.”

Jesus. So he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. Babe exhales, praying to make the sick-to-his-stomach sensation go with it. Instead, it just churns even harder. If this goes on any longer, he’s gonna need a damn bucket.

Gene’s never been the best with words; expressing himself has never been easy, which is why Babe’s gotten so good at reading between the lines. Gene’s really trying now — for his sake, Babe supposes. “Reading that letter, seeing all those feelings laid out on paper… Babe, you didn’t have to sign it. I’d ‘a known it was you, just from what you said. It was like… listening to your heart. And a part of me already does that every day, so I guess it was easy.”

Can Gene hear his heart screaming now? Babe grips the windowsill until his knuckles turn white, grounding himself. 

“I wasn’t sure how you felt before… and I wasn’t sure how I felt for you. Knew you felt something, but not what, and not how…” Gene swallows, pale throat bobbing. “But now I know.”

“Now you know.” Babe dwells on this statement for a moment before turning, hesitation heavy on his tongue. “So… what now, Gene?”

Gene takes a deep breath, clinging to the night sky for one last moment, before turning his gaze on him. “Do you— “ He pauses, licks his lips. “Do you really mean what you wrote? All of it?”

“Gene,” Babe replies, “I meant every word.”

Something calms in Gene’s eyes, like a storm settling. Babe isn’t expecting the way his gaze clears, or the flash of steely certainty that follows. “Well,” Gene says, “there’s only one thing to do.”

Another thing Babe isn’t expecting — how sweet Gene tastes when his lips are suddenly pressed to his own.

Somewhere far away, beyond the depths of his own consciousness — which is really just a victory parade and firework show, that’s all he’s capable of at the moment — he thinks Bill would be proud of him. Beyond the grave, Julian’s probably cheering for him, glad his buddy’s finally getting some.

For once, though, their voices are drowned out completely. It’s impossible to hear anything over the storm raging in his ears, which only swells to a fever pitch when Gene leans back and smiles at him.

“Well, Babe,” he says, as Babe cups his face like a reverent thing. “Think we can figure things out from here.”

“Jesus, Gene,” Babe declares, and swoops in to kiss him again.

[angelkurenai]

Hurricane - Dean Winchester x Reader (Detective AU) - Part 12

Title: Hurricane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 5,511

Warnings: Almost Smut, Nudity

Summary: With one of the most dangerous serial killers on the loose and in your tracks you have no choice but to rely on the help of the police to ansure your safety. It doesn’t hurt that the detective in charge is the one of the most skilled there is and probably, well, definitely the most charming one you have ever seen. Or that his flirting with you takes your mind off the danger waiting for you right around the corner. & Based on: Imagine detective Dean Winchester flirting with you while working on your case.

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here! l Read Part 3 here! l Read Part 4 here! l Read Part 5 here! l Read Part 6 here! l Read Part 7 here! l Read Part 8 here! l Read Part 9 here! l Read Part 10 here! l Read Part 11 here!

“He hasn't come back yet?” Sam's voice on the computer made you look up from your phone and you shook your head.

“No, and it's already very late.” you glanced out of the window to see that indeed the darkness had set in for good “He keeps checking in every 15 minutes but I-” you stopped yourself, biting your lower lip and the younger Winchester gave you a soft knowing smile.

“Can't help but worry for the rest of the 14.95 minutes about him.” he nodded his head at his own words and you huffed, looking down at your hands.

“Stop that.” you grumbled and he grinned.

“Stop what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“That. You act like you know everything about my feelings because they- they are obvious like a neon sign in the darkness to the entire world but your brother.” you pursed your lips like a little kid when you heard your best friend laugh with you.

“Well, I wasn't gonna say but-” he shrugged with a fond smile “It is kinda true. Dean wouldn't realize it even if a truck him right in the face. I can't even count the times I've had to third-weel for the two of you and all of that flirting still has not led to a date.” he shook his head, leaning back in his seat.

“Speaking of which-” you chewed on your lip, glancing once more at your phone “I uh I met... Jack this morning and he said some things about Dean that got me thinking.”

“And had you feeling a certain kind of way too, maybe?” he smirked and you glared at him as hard as you could master “I know Jack very well to not even ask what he's spilled.” his smile got softer, no longer teasing you "But if you ask me (Y/n)... you shouldn't put your whole life on hold because you- you assume things are just happening in your mind. You-you don't have a reason to hide it anymore or to forever wait hopelessly in love with the man to tell him what you feel.”

“You say this as if I even have a chance with him, Sam.” you scoffed, trying not to let your hopes get up.

“And you say this as if you don't!” he looked at you in disbelief “(Y/n), he kissed you just two days ago! You told me that yourself, how can you forget that?”

“Yes because I was having a panic attack and he didn't know how to get me back to my senses but that was all!” you couldn't help but feel your heart drop at the thought “I- We talked about it Sam, that very night. He didn't- he said there were no feelings behind it, only him doing his job. He made it clear it meant nothing. So there, I don't think there is much of a chance after all.”

“Wh-what?” he blinked, eyebrows raised in surprise “That idiot, what was he- No, (Y/n), you gotta hear me out! I know my brother, and trust me when he is with you or- or even talks about you it's so much more different than it is with any other woman! Do you think he'd go to such extents to protect you if you weren't that important to him?”

“As a friend, probably! Family even, but let's be honest Sam, if he really wanted something more he'd- he'd have made a move or at least told me something.” you shook your head “Flirting is- it's what Dean does and even if he wants a casual night with me I'm- I'm not up for it. I want something serious and he doesn't, he never does. I don't blame him but I can't keep waiting or trying for something that will just never happen. I- I know I could try but gosh Sam I've hurt enough as it is with the entire case, both physically and mentally, and my heart is or most part in one piece.” you rambled as all your friend could do was stare at you with wide eyes.

You were trying so desperately to convince yourself, though, because sadly Sam wasn't saying it clearly how Dean felt (you partially understood it wasn't his job to) but you were growing impatient at the same time when thinking about that almost-kiss and what it could mean.

“You-” he let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair “You two are seriously the world's biggest idiots!”

“Why would you say-” before you could fully question him though your phone buzzed and you didn't even have the chance to blink before you reached fast for the device to read Dean's message.

You heard Sam scoff and mumble to himself something that sounded like “Not in love my ass.” but you didn't question it.

“He- wow.” you breathed out with wide eyes “He found him, Sam! He- Chuck's in town and he will be for a couple days, he says he's sent you the adress?”

“Yeah, I got it. I'm not far away... what is it?” he question with a frown when he heard you snicker.

“Oh uh nothing, it's just-” you giggled “He says he's in desperate need of lots and lots of beers right now to forget the 60-year-old woman he had to hit on.”

Sam rolled his eyes “Why did I even ask? Anyway- Tell him it's better if he returns immediately to your motel room, the less he's out there, the better. It won't take me long to get there and I'll keep an eye out all the time.”

“Alright then, please drive safe.” you whispered and he gave you a nod and warm smile.

“Will do.” he nodded his head “And for the love of, (Y/n), just listen to me for once.”

“Sam” you sighed softly but he gave you a stern look.

“I'm serious. I'm sick and tired of you two pinned over each other and crushing harder than a pair of 12-year-olds and I swear if I see you doubt what he feels about you once more, I'm going to lock you in a room until you've figured it out! Hell, even Jack knows and you keep refusing it's a thing but I swear to you, I'm going to keep up my promise if you so much as dare to deny it once more!”

“O-ok I'll think about it. I will, I promise!” you nearly raised your arms in surrender. Fed-up Sam was the most scary Sam you had seen so far.

“You better.” were the last words he breathed out to you before you were left in silence. You still weren't sure about Sam taking Dean's place on keeping an eye out for Chuck, in case he left his motel, because it wouldn't make much of difference if Amara found any Winchester in the town, she'd instantly know you were all there.

But some selfish part of you worried about Dean's well-being a little more, not to mention him catching some shut eye. You'd heard more than plenty from his nightmare the previous night, along with all of the pacing he'd done, and in more than a few messages he hinted that he felt worn out. That, along with the nagging feeling you had ever since that peck made you want him to get back as soon as possible to test the waters of... whatever relationship you had going on.

“As if you didn't enjoy it! ;)” you typed the reply and with a sigh got up from the chair to make your way to the bathroom. You wished that after a relaxing bath everything would be calm, at least for one night, and you could get the chance to relax and... hopefully forget about the outside world with Dean. Hopefully.

~*~

Walking into the motel room an involuntary sigh escaped Dean's lips. He placed the plastic bags on the sole table in the room and his eyes did a once over of the entire place in search of your figure. For a second he tensed up when he didn't see you around, he took a few long strides and frantically almost now looked around. It wasn't until he heard some shuffling come from the door to his left that he realized he had not thought of the most obvious of all.

Taking a step towards the bathroom he only found himself freezing in his tracks. He knew he should have immediately turned around and pretended he had not seen a thing but his body refused to listen to whatever logical part of his brain was left anymore. For some reason he was reminded of his dream not too long ago and he felt even more compelled to stand there.

The door was slightly ajar, letting him have just the right view inside the bathroom were you had just started getting dressed after a shower. While it was comforting that you were just fine, it wasn't comforting to realize the kind of effect you had on him.

He felt like some sort of weirdo, a creep like the kid he'd caught looking at you through the window of your room all that time ago, but at least in his defence he didn't get off on it or made a habit out of it, not to mention that he knew you. Plus, he didn't do it on purpose. He had only stumbled upon it and he just couldn't pull away from you. But that was a fact from the very beginning: Being so drawn to you. The attraction first to your appearance and very soon to your character had been undeniable from the first moment and if things were different he'd already have taken you out on more than plenty of dates, if you had said yes that is. It didn't help at all that he had spent so much time thinking about the kiss you had shared not so many hours ago or that almost kiss previously the same day, practically had his mind consumed with you.

All in all, it was different – well, he couldn't lie to himself – he was in love with you and he hoped and wished that you felt the same even in the least bit.

He watched the drops of water slide down from your still wet hair to your bare back he felt like he ran out of breath. His eyes watched the way your muscles flexed as you patted your body with a towel, trying to dry most of the water. You were standing all but naked, save for the pair of panties you had on, and he would be lying if he said his eyes didn't skip over your every curve and edge once or twice so that he could take everything in and remember it. He was so tempted to just push the door open and help you, no matter the form or direction that ended up going to. He almost felt his fingertips tingle with the need to touch you.

He was so caught up between admiring you and trying to understand the plethora of emotions swimming through his body that he didn't even realize it when you managed to put on a pair of pants and a shirt and were getting so much closer to him. He didn't even have the time to react when-

“Dean” your voice held so much relief, as if you hadn't noticed how awkward he was being only half a second ago trying to pretend he hadn't been standing there or as if you did know but chose to ignore it completely. Your shoulders relaxed instantly and an easy smile formed on your lips “I was going to wait for you but I seriously felt like my clothes were going to stick to my skin for good very soon so I couldn't-”

“S-Sure after everything that happened you needed something to help you relax...” he trailed off, almost cursing at himself for how unsure he sounded.

“Yeah, I mean, I had some serious thinking to do as well. So I suppo-” but you stopped mid-sentence and it was then he cursed under his breath. You studied him for a bit and after a moment your smile fluttered and your eyebrows pulled into a frown. You reached out and grabbed his arm before he could get away.

“Dean?” Oh how it made him weak on the knees to hear you say his name. You didn't do so often and it was such a shame he realized in that moment.

“Dean?” it was a whisper this time and it distracted him even further in all the bad possible ways that he certainly couldn't afford at the moment “Is everything alright? Something wrong?”

“Apart from the fact that we're hiding from a psycho? No I wouldn't say much.” he cleared his throat, his eyes flying over your form for a second or two and it was possibly the worst decision he could make. Given that your face was flushedbecause of the hot shower, your hair still wet and even your clothes just a bit in a far too sinful way because he couldn't help but want to help you dry up in more than one ways. He hurried to add “I've gotten burgers in case you're hungry. And uh pie, which I know you li-”

“Dean” and there it was again and it made a lump form in his throat. He felt your fingers on his chin, only two fingers slowly turning his face in your direction without even the slightest of protests, but then again you could shift his entire world with just a look “Tell me.”

His eyes did another once over but this time focused on your face where he noticed a familiar, soft and calm look of understanding there. You smiled a bit, taking a step closer as if you weren't already significantly close but who needed to breathe anyway? Certainly not Dean at that moment.

“Alright then, I will tell you.” you slid your hand up his arm “About what I've been thinking about. About what... we haven't really talked about yet and I-” you looked up to meet his eyes again “I want to. Without any lies or hiding anymore. Just a straight answer, don't care if it hurts me. But no lies.”

“Wh-what about?” his voice was getting lower and it made it harder for you to focus.

You licked your lips, not knowing it had the same if not worse effect on him. His eyes followed the line of your tongue and you could hardly fight a small smile of your own when you whispered “What Jack said.” your eyes locked and he stiffened more, if possible “Was it true?”

“Is that the kind of thinking you've been doing in the shower?” he softly and barely raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged glancing away for a mere moment “Would you prefer I was doing some kind of... other thinking? Or maybe something else aside from showering?”

His breath got caught in his throat. There was no mistaking the way your lips curved up into a very flirty smirk, the kind that he'd given you plenty of times before, and there was no doubting the words you said. You had never been more bold than that and it did catch him by surprise in a good way.

“Maybe.” he asked instead, shrugging before licking his own lips “Depends.”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds, your hand slowly sliding up to his chest and up his flannel where your fingers toyed with the collar of his flannel “On?”

It took him some time to reply simply because of how focused he was on your lips - or was it how kissable they looked at the moment? Then again, they always did. Mustering all the confidence he could, although still with hazy eyes said “Me being the focus of your attention the entire time?”

“Why detective-” you grinned easily, leaning closer to him “Don't you know?” he expected you to mock him a bit, tease him but he didn't get any of it. Instead he felt your fingers light as a father trace up his jaw, to his cheekbones before combing through his hair, sliding to the back of his head and tugging softly “I can't take my mind off you... no matter where my hands end up wandering.”

His head was tilted so that was only inches away from yours, your forehead almost leaning against each other's so you heard the sharp intake “You seem rather comfortable talking about it. Do you do that often?”

“Hm that's a secret you'll have to do some more serious interrogation to get out of me, detective. Besides-” you glanced down at his lips “How often do you do it?”

“Are you that interested to know?” was it audible? He had no idea.

“More than I'd care to admit out loud.” you gave him a small shrug and smirk.

“Why?” he asked in a low voice.

“Why... what? Why can't I admit it out loud or... why do I do it in the first place? Because if it's the second one then-” you were almost pressed against him and he'd give anything to press you against the wall in addition “I'm sure you can think of a reason or two.” your voice had dropped to a lower seductive tone and he was barely holding back a sound in his throat that, he was sure, wouldn't sound anywhere near human. Especially with how your eyes roamed over him. He didn't know just how much thinking you had done and for what reason but he didn't want to complain.

“But that's something we were supposed to talk about later.” your voice, softer brought him back to reality again “I asked a question and I did mean it. Seriously... I want to know if it was indeed true.”

“Why?” it came out in a raspy voice, almost frowning “Why do you want to know so much?”

“Is it not obvious? Has it not been from the beginning? I- I know what I've said in the past could be taken both ways but... I told you I did some thinking. Some serious thinking.” you murmured “Besides, what difference will it make if you know the reason?”

“It will, to me yes it will.” it was him who got closer “And you said it: no lies. Yet I'm not getting the full truth here. Tell me why do you really want to know?”

You shrugged a bit, your face burning but no point in backing down now. Taking a deep breath you watched as his own other free hand slid up your bare arm and he took gentle hold of your chin to make you look at him even though you weren't far from it. You let him rub his thumb on your cheek for a second, slowly drifting to your lower lip.

“For the same reason as you.” you whispered, not missing the way his shoulders relaxed. He held your gaze. Not so many words in a simple sentence that meant a million things, a million feelings. For the same reason he wanted to know why Jack's words mattered to you. A reason that was only-

“It was.” his voice came out more confident than before and he took a deep breath as if finally able to breathe “I-it was. You're right, it was. I- I'm– I'm a fool for you, an absolute and total fool for you.”

“What-” you started, the two words he repeated having surprised you but if only for a couple seconds. It was when realization set down on you maybe a bit harder than you had initially expected.

“It was true. What Jack said, everything he said was true.” it was like you could hear it. And even more, everything everybody else said was indeed true

Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes all-but-widened. Two words that meant so much more than you could ever possibly comprehend. He had never been so open about it and so sincere, more than you had ever seen him before (if it was possible at least) and above all more scared than ever. He looked almost shy about it, at first, but then you realized he too was holding his breath after the words left from his lips. Maybe he had been unable to stop them, maybe he was speaking from his heart and couldn't stop it, maybe he wanted you to know but not yet and maybe... there were a thousand possibilities. You could think about them all you wanted but truth was it would take forever and you had obviously lost far too much valuable time thinking about what could and couldn't be instead of just going for it.

“A-are you going to say someth-” he started, making you realize you had been silent for a bit too long.

“Good.” you cut him off, voice a bit shaky “G-good to know.”

It wasn't what he expected to hear so it did make him frown but when he parted his lips ready to speak, no words came out. Instead every sound was muffled by the pair of your own lips on his. The gasp that left when you took hold of the collar of his flannel and pressed yourself as close as possible to him was simply adorable. You had probably taken the both of you by surprise because this was no kiss fueled by some sort of emergency and it was no kiss happening by mistake. Despite the both of you being in a life or death situation, for lack of better words, this was a kiss happening for entirely different reasons.

Just to wipe out any doubt you might have he started kissing back with just as much passion only three seconds later. A soft laugh came from you when his hands found your middle soon followed by a yelp when he took hold of your thighs and lifted you up with ease. His lips were much more firm against yours. His tongue brushed over your lower lip and you parted your lips to give him full entrance. His tongue was hot on yours and it tasted like coffee. You let him have his way, enjoying it all along, as his wet lips hungrily devoured yours. The low moan that he gave you when you caught his lower lip between your teeth made you grin. You nibbled on it, making him push you harder against the wall and getting a giggle from you.

He kissed you fully on the lips again, stealing your breath away. His tongue was no more gentle as before, if anything it seemed quiet the opposite. “Something tells me-” you panted when he pulled just an inch away “You've been looking forward to this?”

“Don't you know?” he asked in a gruff voice, his lips leaving a wet trail of kisses down your neck. Pushing you against the wall you arched your hips forward, earning a moan from him.

“Figured.” you bit your lip, shuffling to get the jacket off his shoulders “So that's why you've been staring at me through the open door huh?” you grinned when he froze for a moment. You leaned closer to his ear “What, detective?” you kissed it “Thought I wouldn't notice? Then why do you think I put on a small show for?” you trailed your lips down to his neck.

His shoulders relaxed and a deep chuckle made his chest rumble “Seriously, best kind of thinking you've ever done, sweetheart.”

“Life's too short. And I wasted too much time overthinking. I wanna act on it now. But you can thank Jack for it later.” you grinned and he chuckled.

“Besides, don't worry. You're definitely taking me out too but for now- I'm not holding back.” you huffed, trying to get him rid of his flannel as well. He pulled just a bit away, helping you but still giving you a raised eyebrow “What? You saw more than plenty before. It would be only fair.”

“It would, yes. Also-” he let go of you to stand on your feet to, much to your pleasant surprise, pull his black T-shirt over his head “All that for me? How considerate. I might have to repay you for that. What kind of services would you like this time m'am?”

“I can think of something. Can't you?” you grinned, hooking your fingers through the hem of his jeans and pulled him closer to you. His eyes widened once more in surprise but chuckled nonetheless.

“Maybe I could.” his voice was more rough, the look on his face more determined and serious, and it immediately made the familiar feeling set down harder on the pit of your stomach.

His eyes roamed your figure rather shamelessly. The fact that your shirt was still a bit wet and you had no bra didn't help at all in fighting the deep red off your cheeks. The way his eyes darkened made you shiver. Bringing a hand up to rest on the nape of your neck, slowly sliding to your cheek. He leaned in, kissing your forehead as if to make a promise, then your cheek and then your lips where he didn't pull away from. He didn't need any effort to push you down on the bed. With your hands hooked on his jeans you pulled him down, not that he even wanted to stay more than an inch away from you.

Your hips bucked up involuntarily, grazing the stiffness in Dean's pants that made you let out a shaky breath. He pushed your hips with his asking for as much friction as possible but only groaned in your mouth when you showed him you weren't going as gentle as before. His hands came to rest on your hips, squeezing so tight that you were sure it was going to leave a bruise. Compared to any other kiss this one was filled with much more raw emotion, need and a hint of lust.

Your fingers fumbled with his belt with just as much impatience as his fumbled with your shirt. Although he was more focused on getting as much skin contact as possible. You shuddered when his hands moved underneath your shirt and trailed up your sides to your chest, the touch only making your let out a whine when he refused to give you release but only torture you a bit more with his hands. To get him back for the teasing you held firmly onto his jeans, with your legs around his waist, you flipped him over that you were on top of him.

You pulled away just a bit to look down at him licking the remainer of your taste on his lips with a grin always plastered on his face. His hands didn't leave their place from underneath your shirt which was probably just why he was grinning like that. Cheeky bastard. With a mere move, though, you managed to wipe off the smile. With a hand almost over his hard on and a thrust of your hips you had his eyes widening and him choking on a moan that came unexpectedly.

You leaned down but repeated the move, your bodies sliding together, as he practically held his breath. Your lips found his again and with a harder push he couldn't hold back a grunt. A thrust of his own hips came and his hands that had stilled before were now even more frantic over your body. It was almost a game at this point, for everything. Seeing who'd last longer before breaking - at anything whether it was a moan or another thrust - and who would get be the one on top.

So it wasn't long before Dean was laying on top of you again and had you moaning even more. There was no minding it though when you were too busy craving more of his touch. But if he wanted to torture you with his hands so could yours. His rhythm turned wilder, his breath becoming even more erratic, making you squeeze your legs around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” you didn't even realize it when he had taken your shirt off. His eyes roamed your figure, dark and filled with want, but they only focused on your eyes in the end which made you relax more than you ever imagined. A laugh came from him, his breath hot and heavy against your neck “You're going to make me come in my pants already, princess. Haven't done that since I was a teenager.”

A giggle burst from your lips and you tightened your hold around his shoulders, your lips brushing over his as you spoke “Did you happen to do that often?”

He let a deep throaty moan when you pressed your bare chest flushed to his but grinned nonetheless “More or less. Although you make me feel like I'm 16 again, I get the impression that if I were to meet you when we were actually 16 there'd be a lot more of that coming.”

“Is there a pun intended?” you laughed as he shook his head “So you're saying, supposing we were the same age, you'd want me the same?”

“Sweetheart, there's no way my 16-year-old-self would let you walk by not even in my wildest dreams.” he said in a husky voice “I'd be crushing on you harder than a freaking teenager. Let alone the rest of the... thinking I would do with you in mind.” he said in between attacking your neck with kisses.

“Oh thinking is what we're going to call it now.” you giggled before your voice lowered and you whispered in his ear “I like how that sounds.”

“If only you knew, sweetheart.” he said breathlessly “I've dreamed about you.” he whispered roughly in between the kisses “Wanted you. Ever since we first met, I was a gonner. Don't know how you did it but damn you got me baby.” he mumbled against your skin as he licked and sucked on your neck now, he chuckled softly “I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

He didn't even realize it when the exact same words came out.

“It's easy to understand... You simply cannot resist me.” the words were innocent to you but not him.

As if electricity shot right through him, Dean's eyes snapped wide open and he pulled away faster than he ever had in his life. He stared at you with wide eyes as it dawned on him. He felt as if he was being pulled back to that dream and it scared him to the bone. Dean shook his head furiously, his breath having caught in his lungs as he stumbled to get back and away from you.

“D-Dean?” your voice was barely filled with pain, rather more worry and it warmed his heart because she would never sound like that. It reminded him it was still you, you that he had held and loved truly. “Dean...” you started but he only got further away, leaping off the bed and you hurried to put your shirt back on, standing on the edge of the bed “Is everything ok? What- what happened? Did I do someth-”

“No” he hurried to say, wanting to kick himself for making you doubt yourself even for a moment “No, it's not- you didn't do anything. You never could, I'm just- Ah fuck.” he groaned dragging a hand down his face before he fell down on the floor, back against the wall and head resting in his hands in defeat.

“Dean” you were almost scared to ask. You slowly approached him, kneeling in front of him and hesitating to place a hand on top of his “Dean talk to me. Something is going on with you... I could help.”

“You can't- you won't-” he felt like all his words were burning his throat, his head swimming with only one thought “You...” he pulled his hands away from his face and looked down “You will hate me.”

“Wh-what?” you blinked in surprise “Dean... I could never- What are you talking about?”

After such a great act of love, after he had already showed you how much you meant to him, after he was ready to experience your love and give you all of his he was sure he wouldn't be able to take it. But he also wasn't able to take the voice in his head, the constant feeling of being on edge and of feeling so much fear.

“I-” the lump in his throat made it impossible to talk, just as much as the fear settled deep in his heart but he knew that it would happen sooner or later and he didn't want to take advantage of your love when he didn't deserve. When he felt like he didn't deserve anything but your hate.

“I let her free, (Y/n). I was the one that set Amara free.”

~~~

A/N: My fave chapter is here! Right before it all goes to hell, I hope you enjoyed these lovely moments! Feedback is welcomed and tags are sadly closed!

@getlostinthedark @cap-just-said-language @catwithyellowwings @word-scribbless @carryon-doctor-lock @nightriver99 @timelady1140 @spideyxstan @agentstarkid @all-will-be-well-love @simpleboox @jaylarkson @cookiechipdough @alltimekp @a-dorky-book-keeper @givemebooksorgivemedeath @skeletoresinthebasement @sammy201d @akshi8278 @amandamdiehl @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma @musiclover1263 @feelmyroarrrr @sofreddie @skymoonandstardust @babygabrielle-blog @woodworthti666 @gunpowder-and-smoke-inofficial @erule @lizwinchester16 @itslunabitches @itsquies @justkending @fiftyshadesofrebel @love-my-not-natural-babies @outsider-underwater @deans-baby-momma @kaylinfayezink @x-waywardaf-x @keshaia @moonlight-on-her-skin @happy-little-marvel

[alovelymoonbeam]

Deaf Newsies Fic ch 1

Right, I’m finally doing it. I’ve been half writing this story for a few years, but I’m finally posting the first chapter for the newsies quarantine project day two. If you actually like it/want me to post more/have an idea for a title, lmk

disclaimer: I am not Deaf, nor do I know anyone who is deaf. Everything in this is based on what I learned about Deaf culture in my ASL class, so if something is wildly inaccurate, or offensive, or anything, please let me know, and I’ll fix it.

also i wrote most of this like two years ago so it kinda sucks sorry

@watchwhathappensfromafar

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I was starving. That was the only thought that could really cross my mind at the time. It wasn’t that I’d never gone hungry before. After all, missing meals had been a favorite punishment of the school I’d been at. But this was different. I hadn’t eaten at all in three days. The first day I’d been too busy running until I keeled over with exhaustion to bother with finding food. It hadn’t seemed as important as getting away at the time. The next two days I’d spent hiding, and trying to avoid the police. Today the lack of food had finally caught up with me, and it dulled the intense fear of getting caught enough that I attempted to beg for money so that I could actually buy some food. Unfortunately for me, I was having quite a bit of trouble, since I couldn’t really speak to anyone I met, nor could I understand them very well. 

This wasn’t anything new of course, seeing as I was deaf. I had very little residual hearing, so I hadn’t yet managed to figure out speech (though not for lack of trying). I could lipread fairly well all things considered, but it was kind of like attempting to read something in extremely low lighting. I had to concentrate really hard, and didn’t understand most of what a person said. Unfortunately my slow learning and lack of understanding often got me in trouble back at the school, which was the main reason I was out on the streets in the first place.

I had no idea where I had ended up. Back then the streets of New York confounded me. The buildings were like the walls of some complex maze, full of dead ends and wrong turns. This was mostly because the people who had raised me kept me cooped up at that stupid school, where I’d had little to no access to the outside world, and during school breaks I hadn’t been allowed out because they were scared that I would get lost (or something like that. They never bothered to tell me). I was so clueless back then. I mean, I’d lived in New York my whole life, but I didn’t know the first thing about it!

Anyways, I had mostly given up trying to beg for money. The people around me couldn’t understand me, and I couldn’t understand them. There wasn’t much point in signing to them. The small part of my brain that wasn’t focused on my hunger was cursing my parents for insisting I spend my time trying to figure out lipreading and speech rather than learning how to get around New York on my own. Stupid parents.

I followed the current of people, too exhausted to know or care where I was headed. My only comfort was that I was still better off than I had been before. As I made my way, I felt a hand on my shoulder. My entire body tensed up. I had always hated it when people touched me unexpectedly, and my recent experiences hadn’t done anything to help the fact. I turned to see a police officer.

Now, before I continue on with this story, I’d like to take this moment to say that I am normally a smart, rational person, who is very good at getting away from the police without incident when the time calls for it. But I was starving, scared, and exhausted. I was drained from my escape, and the stressful last three days. So when a cop grabbed my shoulder, and asked me a question that I hadn’t managed to see, I panicked. 

I yanked my arm out of the officer’s hand, and I ran. An instant later, I realized what a bad idea that was. I knew he would be chasing me. I may as well have painted the word GUILTY across my forehead. I also knew that there was no way I could outrun him or hide. I was too exhausted. As I ran, my lungs burned, and my legs ached. I wove my way through the crowd, praying for a miracle. In the middle of said prayer, I slammed right into one.

The person I had not managed to avoid was a boy, a few years older than me. He wore a blue shirt, with a black vest over it, and a grey cap. He wasn’t wearing a coat, which was a pretty bad idea, since it was January. His clothes were worn, but clean, and he looked rather confused, which made sense, considering I had just plowed right into him while being chased by a police officer. 

He said something to me probably along the lines of What’s wrong? or Who are you? or Why on earth did you run into me, and why is there a police officer chasing you? Of course, I couldn’t be sure, since I was a bit busy panicking. 

I shook my head, and said the only thing I know how to say in English. I’m deaf.

His eyes widened in understanding. Just then the cop caught up with me. The boy and I turned to face him. I probably would have started running again, but the boy put his arm around me, keeping me in place. Normally this would have made me either panic, or kick him to get away, but he was acting completely carefree, as if an out of breath, angry cop wasn’t standing in front of us.

What seems….problem officer? the boy asked. His unruffled behavior seemed to confuse the cop as much as it confused me. 

That girl did something, the officer answered. I scowled at the officer, then turned to the boy and shook my head. Sure, I had run when he asked me a question, but that was still quite a bit of a conclusion he was jumping to. 

….mind explaining what happened? he asked, readjusted  the strap on his bag. The officer paused, probably realizing that I really hadn’t done anything that would warrant his pursuit, other than running.

I asked….she….okay. She didn’t answer….I put my hand….her shoulder and asked again, and when I did, she started running, he said. The boy raised his eyebrows, and the officer’s scowl deepened. I doubted he liked explaining just how unintelligent he was to a couple of kids half his age. 

I think I understand the problem, the boy said after a pause. See, officer, my sister here is deaf. ….as been since she was born. Couldn’t understand a word you was saying. She gets spooked pretty easily too, on account….her not being able to hear people coming and all. When people touch her, and she isn’t expecting it, she gets scared, and runs. Specially if it isn’t someone she knows. 

I was proud of myself for understanding what he said. Usually I didn’t get so much out of a conversation, but even though he seemed to have a rather strong accent, he talked at a good pace, and wasn’t exaggerating his words to make it ‘easier’ for me to understand. What he said surprised me. If you were smart, you didn’t stick your neck out for other people, especially one you didn’t know. But he had gone and lied to a police officer, who I didn’t doubt would arrest him for less, all so he could help some random kid who happened to run into him.

...sorry… the officer said, and walked away. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Not only had the boy lied for me, but the officer had believed him. As I was puzzling over this, the boy began to lead me somewhere. 

I stopped, and he turned to look at me. Yes, he had saved me from the cop, but I still didn’t know anything about him, and I didn’t know why he was willing to risk being arrested to help me. In my experience, when people helped you out, it was because they expected something in return, and I wanted to know exactly what I was getting myself into.

“What’s your name?” I signed to him, hoping he would somehow magically understand.

Sorry, what? he asked, confused. I sighed. Looks like we were doing this the hard way. 

I pointed to him, hoping that would do the trick. Fortunately, it got the message across.

Oh! My name’s Jack, he answered. I smiled, and shook my hands, in the sign form of applause.

“Why did you help me?” I asked.

Sorry, is….don’t understand, Jack said. I was pretty sure I missed something he said, but I decided to figure it out later, and try to get him to understand my question. 

“Before…” I mimed the cop chasing after me.

When the bull was chasing you… he guessed. I nodded.

“You…” I mimed putting my arm around someone, and mimicked his carefree demeanor. “She’s my sister. She’s deaf. It's fine,” I signed. 

Is that me? he asked with a smile. I nodded. When I helped you? he asked. I nodded again.

“You helped me,” I signed.

“You helped me,” he repeated. I shook my head, and corrected him. “I helped you,” he tried again. I nodded.

“You helped me. Why?” I asked again.

Why did I help you? he asked. I nodded, and signed yes. Oh, well….. needed help. That cop was one…. Snyder’s….. He…..taken.... refuge, and no.... deserves that and...

Oh gosh, I thought as he continued to ramble. Evidently his accent got thicker when he was nervous. That was gonna make things difficult for me. I didn’t understand several of his words, and he was still going.

“Wait, stop.” I signed. 

What? he asked.

“Slow down,” I signed. I mimed him rambling, and my confusion. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Oh, am I talking to fast? he asked slower, but thankfully not agonizingly slow. I nodded.

Sorry. I was just saying that no one deserves to go to the refuge. That’s the jail for kids, he explained. It's a terrible place. 

“You’ve been there?” I asked. He didn’t know the signs, but he seemed to guess my meaning.

Have I been there? he asked. I nodded. Yeah. I didn’t do anything. But the more kids they bring in, the more they get paid, he explained. They arrest….kids over nothing.

“Okay,” I signed.

Do you need a place to stay? he asked, changing the subject.

“What?” I asked, confused.

You look like you don’t have anywhere to go, he explained. Do you need a place to stay? 

I hesitated, deciding whether or not I should give him that information. Even though I still barely knew him, and I found out he’d been arrested at some point, I felt like I could trust him. He had done his best at understanding me, and hadn’t treated me like I was stupid. And he had saved me. I figured the least I could do was give him a chance. Plus my escape had been pretty poorly planned, and I had no other ideas on what to do.

“Yes,” I admitted, nodding so he would understand.

Well, a couple…. away....lodging house….not super fancy, but....bed, and food. They take any kid….pay, long as they don’t....trouble, he said. Me…. other newsies stay there. If you want, you can too.

“I don’t have money,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t pay.”

You don’t want to? he guessed. I shook my head. No wait, you can’t? he tried again. I nodded.

“I can’t.” I said.

“Can’t,” he repeated, speaking the word while doing the sign. I nodded. Okay. So why can’t you? Oh, wait, do you not have money? he asked. I nodded.

Don’t worry about it. Me and a few….kids have a little fund so we can help new kids get back on their feet. It’ll only pay for a night, but tomorrow, you can sell with us.

Before I could answer, Jack grabbed my hand, and began leading me through the crowd. I yanked my hand out of his. He stopped, and turned towards me, confused.

“Don’t touch my hands,” I signed, doing my best not to get angry. I hated it when people did that. Hand grabbing might be fine for hearing people, but for me it was the equivalent of shoving a gag down my throat. My hands were my way of communicating, and I wasn’t going to let anyone silence me, intentionally or otherwise.

Your hands? Oh! You don’t want me to touch your hands, right? Jack guessed. I nodded.

“Don’t touch my hands,” I repeated. He nodded.

Okay, I won’t. This way, he said, turning the corner. I grabbed onto his shoulder to avoid losing him on the crowded streets. 

As we were walking, he pulled newspapers out of his bag, and said things that I didn’t manage to catch as they weren’t directed towards me. When he did this, people would come up to him and buy the papers. At one point while talking to someone, he pulled me close to him and put his arm around my shoulder, like he had to escape the cop. I turned towards him to see what he was saying.

….my sister here….deaf, you see….I did my best not to laugh at how pitiful he looked. He was definitely overacting, much more than he had when he had gotten the cop to leave. 

Poor thing...all I can spare...hope you two will be alright….said the man, handing Jack a coin. I realized that he was using my deafness to earn pity points with the man he was speaking to. Nowadays I do the same thing (hey, if people are going to treat me like less of a person cause I communicate in a different way than they do, I have no problem making myself appear more pitiful to get a few extra cents), but at the time I was pretty angry about the whole thing. I was about to say some rather unsavory things and leave, but he handed me the coin. 

Looking in my hand, I saw a dime. The man hadn’t even bought a pape, but playing up my deafness had gotten us a whole dime! I looked up, eyes wide, and Jack smiled mischievously at me.

Rule one a being a newsie, if you have the pity card, use it, he said.Then, nodding towards the coin, That’ll pay for a meal and a place to sleep tonight.

“Thanks,” I signed distractedly, still considering the events that had just taken place.

 I hated it when people pitied me or acted like I wasn’t quite a person. I hated being ignored or stared at when I signed. I didn’t really mind being deaf, but I hated how people reacted to it. But Jack had just shown me another side to it all. People would pity me no matter what. But I’d just been shown how to use it to my advantage. I smiled. This whole thing was going to work out just fine, it seemed.

One shortcut through a broken fence and a few minutes later, we arrived at the Newsie Lodging House. It was a building with several floors, including, but not limited to, a dining room, a schoolroom, a gym, and dorms for the kids, not to mention Jack’s penthouse (though I didn’t know about that at the time). The bottom floor was almost all rented out to different shops, leaving nothing but a small entrance and stairway that led up to the rest of the lodging house.

Jack opened the small door of the lodging house and into the entryway (if you can call it that). It was a room not much bigger than a closet, with walls covered in hooks, presumably for coats. I remember being confused about why there were so many hooks when, judging by the size of that room, there couldn’t be more than a dozen children there. 

I followed Jack up the stairs and onto the third floor. It mainly consisted of a schoolroom, full of desks, and complete with a chalkboard. I didn’t know it at the time, but the room was so that the kids who worked during the day could still get some form of education when they were finished selling. It also happens to be where Mr. Heig’s office is.

Pop! You….here? Jack called. If I had to guess, I’d say that Mr. Heig replied based on Jack’s reaction. A moment later, he appeared out of a back room. Mr. Heig has been running the lodging house for as long as anyone can remember. He’s an older man, with grey hair and a beard. He has a little bit of a pot belly, and even though he can be strict when it comes to how he runs the place, we all love him.

Why...back...selling, Jack? He asked, walking towards us.

I found…. Jack started to say something, but at this point I stopped paying attention to the conversation. Neither of them were directly facing me, and when hearing people are talking to each other, they go so much faster. It makes it impossible to keep up. Instead, I observed my surroundings. 

The schoolroom reminded me of the school I had come from, but it was a lot bigger, and a lot more run down. The desks were old, and mismatched, and some of them looked like they would fall apart at any given moment. The chalkboard had the remains of a math lesson smudged on it, as if the teacher couldn’t be bothered to erase it properly. The eraser itself was actually just a piece of old cloth, dirty and covered in chalk, and really should have been replaced long ago. But in spite of everything, the room in general was neat and clean, and everything seemed to be in its proper place.

At that moment, Jack tapped my shoulder. I turned back to the conversation to find the both of them looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

Didn’t you say she could read lips? Asked Mr. Heig.

“I can, but it's hard, and the two of you were going to fast,” I answered, annoyed at having to explain this. Hearing people assume that it's so easy to lipread, but it's really super freaking hard! You try understanding a conversation that’s not directed to you and in another language that you only vaguely know! 

Was it too fast? Jack guessed. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Hearing people were so much work.

“Yes, and the two of you….” I turned away from them, and mimed them talking super fast. “When you talk fast, and turn away, I can’t understand.”

Sorry. We were just asking why you were on the streets? asked Jack. 

“My mom got sick and died, and I don’t have any other family,” I answered. It was a lie. A complete and total lie. Luckily, they couldn’t understand me at all, since I had signed fast, and kept my face blank to give them no clues to what I was actually saying.

Did you understand anything she said? Mr. Heigs asked Jack. He shook his head helplessly. I rolled my eyes. Hearing people were ridiculously inept at reading people. They turned away just enough that I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Probably not on purpose, but it was still annoying. I moved to a position where I could see them a bit better. 

....race...sign language….ask him... I only caught the bare minimum of what Jack said, and it left me confused as always. I did my best to stifle a yawn. I hadn’t slept properly or really at all since I ran away, and evidently, it was starting to catch up with me. Mr. Heigs took notice. 

….upstairs. She looks like….about to fall over, he said. Jack nodded, and then turned to me. 

Come on, he said. We’ll find you someplace….sleep. 

I nodded, and followed him up the stairs.