#I wrote this for class like eight months ago so uh here you go

[sexycornenthusiast]

iPhone With No Case

Some people are very particular about which brand of phone they're willing to use. Others will simply pick up whatever's available, and others still keep multiple around for the sake of convenience. But no matter their owner, everyone knows of the rivalry between the iPhone and the Android.

The iPhone was a new, sleek, shiny little thing with a perfectly up-to-date processor and a positive attitude. But the Android had been their owner's first, so even though she was old and slow with a chunky pink case, she was hard to let go.

If their owner had to love a competitor, couldn’t she at least pick a new one, who could give her something in return? There was nothing the Android could do that the iPhone couldn’t do better.

Why are you ignoring me, when I’m perfect for you?

She laid face down on the counter and seethed. When they were next to each other, the Android wouldn’t even look at her, like she knew, like she was saying, you’re not good enough.

But all technology eventually fell to the wayside, and one day the Android proved too slow, testing their owner’s patience for a final time as she crashed against the wall and collapsed. She said nothing and looked the iPhone in the eyes. It was what both of them wanted.

Attention was what she craved most of all, but was it worth it? To be shoved, dropped, carelessly tossed aside into some bed or some counter. She thought to herself smugly, at least I'm not that old Android. It’s better to be loved.

And she said, shatter me, cover me in crumbs, because I'd rather destroy myself than leave your side.

So the Android was abandoned to some cozy drawer, her own little corner of the world, broken and alone but at peace, never to be seen again.

And the iPhone was still jealous.

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

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Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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

Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,�� Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[devoidwrites]

Zero O’Clock - Joshua Hong

Summary: Your soulmate can hear you whenever you sing. After your life seems to fall apart, your once happy voice turned silent. Joshua worried, thinking of the worst when you opened up one last time.

Warnings: Depressed reader, kinda angsty?

Words: 2.8K

Genres: Angst, Soulmate AU

"Dude, you do the one thing you're good at. You sing to them."

~

Y/n, I expected better from you.

Your heart dropped as you read the note your professor left on your test, the failing grade glaring at you. You had really tried this time, but it was just hard to focus these days with everything going on.

Lately you only wanted to lie in bed and sleep away your life. It felt like things were all going bad every chance they got. Your mother was fighting cancer, and you couldn’t even see her due to the pandemic going on.

You were stuck inside your apartment, the only times you were supposed to leave were when it was absolutely necessary. Of course no one really listened to the rules, but you did. You didn’t mind staying home, you rather enjoyed the alone time.

That was going good until it started coming back. You were doing so good fighting off the depression until you were stuck alone with your thoughts every night. Your friends had tried to get you to come over to their place, but you didn’t feel like doing anything.

You’ve never felt so alone, and you couldn’t help but wonder what your soulmate was doing. Were they self isolating? Sure, their voice was in your head every now and then singing a song you had never heard before. It was in a completely different language than what you were used to, and it made you interested.

You had started to learn Korean a couple years ago thanks to them, but you stopped caring about it months ago. The books that once helped you sat on your small bookshelf, untouched.

You sat up straighter in your desk chair, closing the laptop that had the failing grade on it. You didn’t need to look at it right now. Hell, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyways. Your professor wasn’t one to give out retakes on tests. She was a one and done kind of teacher.

Your feet led you over to your keyboard, and you mindlessly trailed your fingers over the keys. You hadn’t played in a while, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmate had began to worry. It’s been weeks since you last sang anything, which was unusual to your daily one person concerts you used to hold.

You played a familiar tune, and your lips started moving before you could do anything about it. “How can you miss someone you’ve never met? ‘Cause I need you now but I don’t know you yet.”

You had missed the feeling of playing the piano. It was the only thing that gave you a sense of comfort nowadays, and letting out your emotions through a song was always helpful to you.

It’s not like you thought you were the best singer out there, but you new you weren’t terrible at it.  “But can you find me soon because I’m in my head? Yeah, I need you know but I don’t know you yet.”

-

“Cause lately it’s been hard. They’re selling me for parts, and I don’t want to be modern art. But I only got half a heart to give to you.”

Joshua stopped what he was doing, moving the phone from his face to focus on the words echoing throughout his head. He wanted to smile, hearing your voice for the first time in weeks, but the words processed quickly and he realized that it was different than before. It was no longer like fun songs the two of you sang back and forth.

He could tell, not only from the lyrics, but from the way you were singing that it was serious. He had been worried about you for the past couple of weeks, and this song told him that what he feared was now reality.

“Are you alright hyung?” Seokmin’s voice brought him back for a second, your voice becoming a soft echo as he tried to pay attention to the game once more. He failed. “Is it your soulmate?”

“Are they finally singing again?” Wonwoo asked, taking a seat beside him one the couch. Of course he told the guys about his worries. They were quick to assure him that everything would be fine, but now he couldn’t be so sure.

“Yeah, but it’s different this time.” He sighed, throwing his head back in defeat. “They’re sad, and I can tell by the way they’re singing that they’re crying.”

“What are you gonna do?” Vernon asked, moving his attention to the situation his friend was currently facing.

Joshua turned to glance at him. “What can I do? I have no idea who this person is, let alone where to begin to find them.”

“Dude, you do the one thing you’re good at.” Jeonghan wrapped an arm around the younger boys shoulders. “You sing to them.”

“Should I be offended?” Joshua trailed off, unsure wether or not his friend was joking. Jeonghan gave him a sly smirk before shoving him off the couch and onto his feet.

Joshua got the message and walked out of the living room. He made his was down the hall and into their small music room. As he closed the door, hundred of songs came to his mind, but one stood out in particular. It was one that he thought would help motivate you.

As his fingers trailed over the keys of the piano, playing the song from memory, he found himself singing the words that helps him on his off days. He could only hope that you were awake, listening to the words he had to sing.

“Mwonga dallajilkka. Geureon geon anil geoya. Geuraedo I haruga. Kkeunnajana.” He sang softly, not only because it was late for him, but he didn’t want to startle you if you happened to still be awake.

“Chochimgwa. Bunchimi Gyeopchil ttae. Sesangeun aju jamkkan sumeul chama. Zero o’clock.”

Joshua wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you everything was going to be alright, but for now his voice would have to comfort you in ways he wasn’t able to.

-

“And you’re gonna be happy.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling as you curled up in your bed, listening to the soft voice of your soulmate. It had been a couple days since hearing their voice, and it was refreshing.

You could place a couple of the words they were saying, but most of them had you lost, but it didn’t matter. Their voice alone was enough to calm you.

Oh how you wanted to meet them. You wanted nothing more than to talk to them and thank them for always being there for you, especially now. They had been giving you words of encouragement, through songs of course.

However, you couldn’t help but feeling even more sad now. How were you supposed to find your soulmate when they were most likely in a completely different country than you? And even if you did find out where they lived how would you even go about finding them?

You had no idea who they were, or where to even begin searching. The thought of never being able to find them only made your depression worse, and you were scared of being alone for the rest of your life.

In reality, that was your biggest fear; being on your own forever.

“Turn this all around. Modeun ge saeroun Zero O’Clock.”

-

Eight months later.

Your soulmate never stopped singing to you. They sang the same songs over and over again, but late at night they sang only to you, a different song every night to help you through it.

You started to feel better, and as the pandemic eased off you were able to see your mother once again. She looked the same as before, and her cheery attitude hadn’t changed a bit. It was refreshing seeing her once more. The FaceTime sessions didn’t do anything justice.

You had began to slowly find your determination, and even though you were still failing your classes you were still trying more. Your once failing grade turned into a barely passing one, which was better to you. You even started hanging out with your friends after everyone was able to go back to normal, and it was nice getting out again. It kept your mind off things.

So here you were, walking around with your mom and having a good time. She was discharged from the hospital quickly after the pandemic was slowing down, but you still had to wait for the okay to actually see her. That meant getting tested, and boy did you hate it.

After the two of you had lunch, you started a small walk around town, talking about everything that happened in the passed year that you had been separated from one another.

“Are your classes getting better?” She asked, taking a sip from her tea.

You nodded with a smile. “They’re getting easier.”

You had even picked up back on learning Korean, and it was a lot more fun now that you were back into the subject.

“I’m doing a lot-“ You cut yourself off, hearing a familiar song playing from one of the stores around you. Your mother quirked an eyebrow as you walked over to the store, the name KpopTown shining bright.

“Uh, excuse me, could you tell me who sings this song?” You asked the girl working. She beamed brightly at the mention of the song, clearly ready to talk about it.

“Oh! This is Home Run by Seventeen. It’s from their newest album.” She explained happily. “They’re having a concert today, so I figured I’d get into the carat spirit.”

You had no idea what she was talking about, but you quickly thanked her and walked back over to your mom, who was giving you a confused look. “What was that about?”

You shook your head, rubbing the small tattoo on your wrist. You had gotten it as soon as the shops had opened back up, and you were quick to get the words ‘One Day’ on your skin as a permanent reminded that everything would be okay.

It came from your soulmate. They had been singing it over and over, and you had quickly placed together that they were writing this song for you. You had cried for hours that day, the fact that they cared about you so much before even meeting you getting to you quickly. The part that really got to you was the song was in English, which meant they wrote it just so you could understand them.

“So you found them huh?” Your eyes snapped over to your mother, who was now smiling happily.

“What?” You asked. “How do you-“

“That look in your eyes darling.” She explained, turning to look at you with a look of happiness. “I had that same look when I found your father.”

“I haven’t found them yet.”

“But you know how to find them.” She clarified. She was right, you did know how to find them, but did you really want to? Of course you did, but there was only one way for sure to actually find them. That was to go to the venue before they had their concert. “Go. Go find your soulmate.”

“Mom are you-“

“I’ll be fine Y/n. You’ve been waiting for this moment for years, and who knows when you’ll get the next chance to meet them.”

Kissing your mother of the cheek quickly, you said your goodbyes before calling a cap and telling the where to go. Along the drive, you looked up where they would be holding the concert, just to make sure you were right. You also looked up a picture of the group, your eyes focusing on one in particular.

They were a Kpop group, and one that was doing well at that. It began to make sense as to why he would sing the same songs over and over again, and you wanted to hit yourself for not figuring it out before.

His name was Joshua Hong, and he was actually from LA too. He had moved years ago after being signed into a company that would eventually bring him to the group he was in today. You had to listen to a clip of him singing, and after the first note you knew it was him.

You could feel the tears building up as you neared the stadium, the cheers of the fans surrounding the entrance coming into your line of vision.

After paying the driver, you got out and rushed into the crowd, who was shouting out names of the other members. You paid them no mind as they cursed at you for pushing yourself to the front. You were the only one that wasn’t screaming as you finally pushed through, your eyes moving faster than ever to try and find him.

Then, the van door opened and they started walking out. Time seemed to stop as Joshua got out of the van, and followed his friends towards the door. You couldn’t find the courage to say anything until he was almost out of your vision.

“One day!” You called out, making him stop in his tracks. It gave you a little bit of hope to call out once more, reciting more lyrics. “I’ll find you one day and everything will be okay!”

He turned around, eyes instantly locking with yours. A look of realization crossed his expression before he was pulled inside completely and out of your sight.

Defeated, you waited for the crowd to die down, the group of girls leaving since their idols were no longer anywhere to be found. You took a seat beside the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest to rest your head on them.

Once everyone was gone and out of sight, the door opened and a head popped out. “Hey.”

Your head looked up to find one of the boys in the group. He nodded towards you, silently telling you to come here. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take you to him.”

Your eyes softened at his words. You quickly placed him as Vernon, the only other native English speaker from the group. He opened the door wider, motioning for you to come in, and without hesitation, you did.

“I’m Vernon.” He introduced himself as he lead you through the stadium, taking the back way to where Joshua was.

“Y/n.”

He stopped in front of a door that would lead you to the person you’d been waiting to meet for years. The only thing that stood between you and your soulmate was a damn door.

Vernon opened it, and everyone inside stood up to look at you as you walked in. Joshua’s eyes met yours, and the world seemed to fade away. It was a new feeling, but you knew exactly what it meant thanks to your friends. This was the feeling people got when they finally meet their soulmate. Time slows down and it becomes just the two of you for a couple of seconds.

When everything came back, you realized the rest of the group was gone, probably giving the two of you the alone time you deserved.

Joshua stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, bringing you in for a much needed hug. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and you clutched to his shirt like your life depended on it. For so long you had waited for this moment, and it was finally here. You had finally met your soulmate.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it.”

You pulled back, never removing yourself from his arms. You gave him a smile. “But you were there for me, even if you weren’t there.”

You pulled one of your hands back, showing him the tattoo you had gotten first chance you’d gotten. His eyes widened and his fingers trailed over the permanent ink, a smile forming on his lips.

“Your song helped me more than you could ever know.”

He pulled you back in for another hug. He rested his cheek on top of your head. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

You felt the tears building up once more, but for a change they were happy tears. Your heart swelled up, but it was a good feeling this time. Everything was going to be okay, and for once you were excited for the future.

“Me too.”

[dilly-oh]

Red Hoodie of Fate

The blaring of the fire alarm woke Kakashi from a particularly good dream about tacos. He bolted upright, cracked his forehead on the coffee table, swore horrifically, and stumbled to his feet, blearily remembering falling asleep on the couch several hours ago. He must have rolled off at some point, maybe when he’d been sprinkling some cheese on those delicious tacos- no, stop. Food later. Fire now.

Thank God the dogs were at Yamato’s for the night, otherwise he might never have gotten out of the apartment. Bisuke was scared of loud noises and liable to hide in the deepest, darkest corner of the flat, while Bull would refuse to budge after laying down for anything less than the apocalypse. Pakkun probably would have just puked in anxiety and made matters worse, while Uhei, Akino, and Guruko would have simply started howling along with the siren. Urushi and Shiba were the only ones who’d have listened, and that was only if he had treats, which he no longer kept in his pockets after an unfortunate incident he didn’t care to repeat. He made a face as he recalled the taste.

Pulling on a pair of sneakers and a frayed red hoodie from the floor, Kakashi stuffed his keys and phone into his pockets before throwing open the door and lurching out into the hallway. He couldn’t see any flames or smoke, but he wasn’t going to sit around and wait to see if this was legit.

Maybe it was the brat from downstairs, playing pranks again. Kakashi had caught him stuffing a cat into someone’s mailbox the other day, so he definitely wouldn’t put it past the little punk. It had better not be those two idiots down the hall smoking weed again. Doors opened all along the hallway as tenants began pouring from their own apartments, hurrying down the hall and clogging the stairs like sleepy zombies. Kakashi shuffled along with them, letting the river of half-awake people drag him down several flights and out the front doors.

Kakashi milled around the parking lot with the chattering crowd, shivering at the cool night breeze and stuffing his hands into the hoodie’s front pockets. With nothing better to do than stand around awkwardly waiting for the fire-trucks, he glanced about, studying his neighbors one by one.

There was the brat, tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed, clinging to his mother’s long red braid, still half asleep. Near him was the emo kid who never brushed his hair and wore nothing but black – Kakashi was tempted to ask which make-up tutorial he used for his smoky eye. The two pot-heads were in the back, leaning against each other, dozing in place. There were more - the old man who wrote dirty novels and sometimes asked Kakashi for his expert opinion, the married couple from the floor above, and-

There was a man standing in the middle of the parking lot in nothing but a towel. Kakashi did a double-take before it processed.  

He was dripping wet, water dribbling down his shoulders and pooling around his bare feet onto the pavement. Beads of moisture slowly made their way down the curve of his pectorals, glistening in the divots of his collarbone. Goosebumps had broken out over his tanned skin, pebbling his nipples, his long dark hair plastered to his neck and shoulders. He looked like some ancient Selkie come to seduce men to their watery graves, or a primordial God of the sea preparing to smite some mortals. And hopefully date him, dear God please.

Who the hell was that? Kakashi stared in shock, struggling to place him. He’d memorized every face in the building, and he certainly didn’t remember this Adonis, which was quite impossible. He had a whole grading system for every male in the building, and this knock-out would be graduating top of the class, Magna Cum Laud. Then the man turned his head and the light from the streetlamps hit just right, highlighting the faint slashing scar over the bridge of his nose-

Wait. Holy shit. Kakashi recognized him now, but could barely believe it. That was UMINO? Umino Iruka, the stuffy teacher’s aide who had just moved in next door like a month ago? The nerd whose idea of a good time was binge-watching a season of the Great British Bakeoff? Kakashi had given him a barely passing C+, having to dock points for the arsenal of pens in his shirt pocket and that one time he saw him wearing socks with sandals.

Damn. He’d totally misjudged him. This man was a BABE. The white towel only heightened his natural tan, accentuating the deep V of his hip-bones while the shadows played across his toned stomach. He looked…

He looked cold.

Umino stood stiffly upright, head high and without shame. In fact, he glared about, arms crossed, seemingly challenging anyone to make a comment or dare laugh. But Kakashi saw the goose-bumps on his skin, the subtle shiver of his shoulders. Summer had passed and, while winter was still a ways off, fall had begun muscling its way in. Kakashi wasn’t sure the clenched jaw was from irritation or to keep his teeth from chattering.

Kakashi gathered his courage and walked over.

“Hi,” he began, and almost stopped when Umino glared at him, eyes dark and daring. “Umino, right? Hatake Kakashi, from next door.” Umino studied him for a moment, then gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement. “Uh…want my jacket?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” Umino bit out with a tight smile, pushing some wet strands of hair out of his face.

Someone wolf-whistled. Probably the old man.

Umino slowly went red, the flush starting in his cheeks, then traveling down his neck to bloom halfway down his chest.

“…Yes, please,” he said quietly, gripping his towel in a white-knuckled hand. Kakashi fought back a chuckle and yanked the hoodie off over his head, inadvertently pulling up his shirt as he did so. Blinded as he was, he missed the flicker of Umino’s eyes over his exposed abdomen and prominent hipbones, the flush darkening a degree. Finally free, Kakashi gave the hoodie a shake and held it out, grinning sheepishly.

“Smells a bit like dog. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Umino muttered, quickly taking it and pulling it on. It was a little too big for him but did the job, covering that delicious expanse of tanned skin and muscle. Kakashi stepped back and studied him for a moment, his mouth going dry.

Shit. It didn’t help at all. If anything, it made it worse.

Umino was now wearing his hoodie, which draped over his body but only made it to mid-thigh. The result was even more alluring and provocative than him standing there in a towel. Kakashi cleared his throat and snapped his eyes away, praying for a fire-truck to come peeling around the corner and hose him down so he could cool the fuck off.

“…You have a dog?”

“Huh?” Kakashi’s eyes snapped away from Iruka’s meaty thighs as he realized the owner of said thighs had just asked a question. “Oh! Yes. Dog. Or, rather, dog-zuh. Plural.”

“Plural?” Iruka frowned in confusion. “How many are we talking-”

“Eight.”

“EIGHT?!”

“Yup.”

“You have eight dogs.”

“Yup.”

“How did you even sneak that by the super?”

“Oh, she thinks I only have four. I have a friend who keeps a couple at his place. I just rotate them out.”

Umino laughed. It was a nice sound, even when he snorted a little at the end.

“So, what do you do?” Umino asked. “Other than harbor illegal animals, that is.”

“I work at the gym down the street,” Kakashi said, jerking his head. “I’m a fitness trainer.”

“Well, that would explain your abs...sssolutely horrible fashion sense. What are those track pants from, the 80’s?” Umino cleared his throat suddenly and jammed his hands into the hoodie’s pockets, frowned, then pulled out a crumpled wad of receipts for fast-food takeout. He stared accusingly at Kakashi for a long, quiet moment.

“…I’m allowed a cheat day,” Kakashi said.

“These are all from the same HOUR-”

“Gai bet me I couldn’t eat it all. I had to defend my honor.”

“Did you throw it all up afterward?”

“…I can neither confirm nor deny that. I can, however, confirm that I won the bet.” Kakashi winked cheekily, and Umino rolled his eyes.

“Do you…enjoy your job?” he asked, stuffing the receipts back into the pockets.

“It’s not bad. I mean, it could be worse, I could teach brats all day.” Kakashi shrugged. “What do you do?”

“I teach brats all day.”

…Dammit.

Umino’s grin was mischievous, though, and there was no hostility in his tone, so there must have been no offense taken.

“How’s that go?” Kakashi asked, genuinely curious.

“About as horrible as you’d think. I have them just when puberty rears its ugly head and turns them into angst-ridden monsters. My classroom in a cesspool of hormones and crying.”

Kakashi laughed aloud. Umino wasn’t anything like he’d thought. Both inside and out. It was incredibly refreshing, not to mention incredibly attractive.

Which is why he was quite disappointed when the first fire-trucks started to pull into the parking lot. He’d rather the whole apartment complex burn down if it meant he could stand out here, chatting with the hot teacher all night.

The fire, just a microwavable popcorn-bag gone wrong, was put out in minutes, the complex deemed safe by the groggy super, a busty older woman who was either hung over or still drunk at this unholy hour. Tenants began milling back inside, clogging the entrance in their desire to return to bed. Kakashi lingered in the back of the crowd with Umino, reluctant to part ways.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your hospitality,” Umino said lightly, reaching up to grasp the hoodie’s zipper. “You can have this back n-”

“Keep it,” Kakashi said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, going by the surprise on Umino’s face. “I mean…just for now. Till you. You know. Get inside and get dressed. You don’t wanna catch a cold.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling his ears get hot.

“Oh…alright.” Umino's hand lowered and he gave him a shy smile, plucking at the loose red threads hanging from the sleeves, winding one around his pinky absently. “Thank you.” The quiet words warmed Kakashi, a delicate shiver traveling up his spine. Kakashi mumbled a response, then doubled over as the hyperactive blonde kid suddenly bowled right into him.

“Watch it, old man!” the brat shouted, dodging away.

“I’m not even thirty!” Kakashi barked after him, offended. “Friggin’ kid. Can you believe-” He turned to Umino and blinked.

He was gone.

---

A knock on the door woke Kakashi right as he was taking another big, crunchy bite of taco. He bolted upright, cracked the back of his head on the coffee table, swore horrifically at himself for not getting in the damn bed this time, and stumbled to his feet. Making a mental reminder to just go and eat some fucking tacos already, he lurched towards the door, tripping over the rug and falling against it with a loud thud. He fought with the handle for a moment before finally yanking it open, squinting at the light stabbing into his eyes from the hallway.

Umino stood there, not hot as hell towel-Umino, but pressed khakis and crisp button-up, array of pens and hair in a severe ponytail Umino, fully dressed and ready for the day. Kakashi, rather than feeling a twinge of disappointment, was surprised to find the man just as alluring covered from head-to-toe as he was three-fourths-naked.

“Good morning,” Umino said, horribly chipper considering the abominable hour.

“Mornin’. What’re you doing here so early?” Kakashi mumbled, rubbing his face. Umino stared at him.

“It’s 9 a.m.”

“Holy shit. Really?” Kakashi squinted down at his watch. “I thought 9 a.m. was a myth.” Umino’s mouth fell open. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

“Oh. Right. Um. Your hoodie. I have it,” Umino said quickly, tripping over the words. He was flustered and twitchy with nerves. If Kakashi were a predator, this was when he’d pounce. “I, um, washed it. For you. Here.” He thrust the jacket out, perfectly folded and smelling of lavender. Kakashi was impressed.

“What, did you wash it twice?” he asked, taking it in his hands and marveling at how soft it felt. The rich red color was much more vibrant, almost seeming to glow.

“Three times,” Umino replied flatly. “Then Febreeze.”

“Umino-”

“Iruka.”

Kakashi blinked, looking up to meet the other man’s gaze.

“You can call me Iruka,” he said, sincere.

“…Alright. I’m Kakashi.” Kakashi stuck out his hand, tucking the hoodie under his other arm. Iruka’s shake was firm, his hands surprisingly soft. He must moisturize or something classy like that.

“I want to thank you for helping me out last night,” Iruka went on, two spots of color appearing high on his cheeks. “I was in a rather…awkward predicament and even after I snapped at you, you still helped me despite my rudeness. I…really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Kakashi replied easily, scratching the back of his head. Oh God, his hair must be a nightmare- no, wait. It always was. Nevermind then. “Any time.”

“So, um.” Iruka shuffled his feet a little, clearing his throat. There was that predatory instinct, niggling Kakashi to jump on him and go for the jugular. “I was wondering how to thank you, and I thought I could, maybe…make you dinner?” he finished weakly, glancing up at Kakashi from beneath thick lashes, then looking away again, suddenly shy. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen, so, if there’s anything you’d like…”

“Tacos,” Kakashi said instantly.

“…Oh.” Iruka deflated, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. “Tacos. Really? I was hoping for something a bit more…challenging. Something that would allow me to show off my culinary skills a bit. But, I mean, if that’s what you want-”

“I like miso soup,” Kakashi said after a moment. “With eggplant.” Screw tacos. He could have tacos any day of the week. He’d take a bowl of cold cereal if it meant getting to spend the evening with this full-course meal.

Iruka lit up, his smile warm and inviting.

“Miso soup it is, then. I’ll have it done by tonight and bring it over. Does that sound alright?”

“Sure.” Kakashi waved as Iruka walked off down the hall, then slipped back inside and closed the door. He brought the hoodie up to his nose and inhaled the comforting scent of lavender, thinking how differently last night would have gone had he not grabbed the hoodie. What he would have missed out on. Fate, it seemed, really did exist.

Hopefully he’d be seeing more of Iruka…in more ways than one.

-End-

Months ago, I was chosen as a pinch-hitter for the Kakairuzine (I would step in if someone had to leave), so I completed two fics just in case they were needed. Since it wasn’t, I’m posting it here. Enjoy!

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​ , and @cracksinthewalls​ for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says. 

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee. 

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

 “Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?” 

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.” 

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers. 

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.” 

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. 

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile. 

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long. 

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 6 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Good Luck

Three Years Earlier

“Psst.”

Cas looked up from his computer when something hit him in the back of the head. He was trying to survive another eight-a.m. accounting class without falling asleep. He turned around.

The girl with dark, reddish-brown hair who always sat there grinned at him. She pointed at the floor behind him with her pen and raised her eyebrows. 

Cas furrowed his brow and picked up the crumpled paper that had hit him. He turned around and unfolded it, doing his best not to seem too suspicious. 

Solitaire? It read in a hasty scrawl. 

Cas frowned. She had been watching his screen. He turned back to give her a look of confusion. She only grinned wider. 

I am attempting to at least pretend I’m engaged. Unlike you, he wrote back. He reached behind him for the girl to take the paper. 

He returned to his game, but was once more disturbed by the ball of paper. Other students were noticing the disruption, leading to the professor saying, “Hey, calm down over there.” Castiel turned bright red. He bowed his head, trying to make himself small as he opened the note once more. 

You got me, I can’t even pretend anymore. Wanna study for the test together? 

Castiel raised his eyebrows at the invitation. He was confused — he had spoken to the girl once or twice, but had never gotten her name, and never given her his. 

The professor released them a moment later, and the girl hopped over her row of seats and into his. 

“So?” She asked.

Cas didn’t look at her as he put his laptop back in his bag. “What?”

“Do you wanna study? Come on, it’ll be way more fun together.” 

Cas put his backpack on and looked at her. “Why?”

The girl looked confused. “What?”

“Why do you want to study with me?” 

“Why don’t you want to study with me?” She retorted. 

“I didn’t say that I don’t want to,” Castiel explained. They began to shuffle out of the row together.  “I’m just confused as to why you offered. We don’t know each other at all.”

She laughed a little and cocked her head. “Hun, that’s kind of the point. Ever heard of making friends?” 

Castiel scoffed as they exited onto the campus lawn. “Right,” he said. 

“What’s your name?” She asked. 

“Cas Novak,” he replied. “And yours is..?”

“Meg. Meg Masters,” she said, taking an exaggerated bow. Cas kept walking, and she skipped to catch back up with him.

“There, now we know each other,” she said. “So, now do you want to study together?” 

Cas considered her for a moment out of the corner of his eye. She was bright and open and, well, everything that Cas couldn’t seem to be. Ridiculous as it was, being that a possible friend had just fallen in his lap, he wanted to say no. He just assumed he would do something, say something that would cause her to find him unpleasant. 

But then… Dean didn’t hate him, and neither did his friends. He’d even had an entire conversation with Charlie about Lord of the Rings, and she’d made him promise to watch the movies with her after midterms were over. Perhaps people were more forgiving than Castiel gave them credit for. 

“That sounds nice,” he said to Meg, and he thought that maybe, for once, he meant it. 

“If I look at this for one more goddamn second, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Dean was lying on his stomach on the floor behind Cas’s desk chair, his ancient computer open in front of him. It was near one in the morning, midterms were coming up. Castiel’s head was swimming from staring at supply and demand graphs for the last few hours. 

“What is it?” Cas asked, turning around. 

“Calculus,” Dean groaned. “I can’t deal with these related rates. Everything was making sense until now.” 

“I might be able to help.” 

Dean moved himself to a seated position and patted the ground beside him. 

“You’ve finished most of it,” Cas said, looking at Dean’s computer. “Where’s your work for the problems you’ve missed?” 

“I usually do this kind of stuff in my head.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “And you say I’m the genius.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Can you help?” 

Cas gave him a look. “I am very good at calculus.”

Dean put up his hands defensively.

“Look,” Cas said, “You just have to identify which variable is actually changing. Here, it’s the radius. So you’ll take your derivative with respect to the radius.”

“Damn,” Dean said. “If someone would have told me that, like, a week ago, this would have made so much more sense. Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.”

Cas ended up bringing his own computer to the floor to study while Dean finished his homework. He moved onto a different subject — it was simply too late for econ. He was reviewing ancient Greek philosophers and their beliefs when Dean rolled over on his back with a groan. He rested his head on top of Castiel’s crossed legs. The action nearly made him jump. He tried not to stare too intently. 

“Dude, I’m hungry,” he said.

“Hungry?” Cas repeated. “I would have expected you to say, ‘tired,’ but not ‘hungry.’”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure they say it’s good luck to eat Taco Bell while studying calculus at three in the morning,” Dean said, pulling on a flannel.

“I’m pretty sure no one ever says that,” Cas replied. 

“I’m saying it now. C’mon.” 

Cas pulled on a sweatshirt — it was cold for October — and followed Dean out the door. 

“I haven’t driven you anywhere, have I?” Dean asked when they reached the dorm parking lot. 

“Not that I can remember.”

“Oh, wait til you see her,” Dean said, excited. “My car, my baby. You’ll be floored.” 

Dean stopped at an old, black muscle car, parked at the far end of the lot, away from the rest of the cars. Castiel could see the Chevrolet logo on the back. 

“It’s quite beautiful,” he said, and Dean grinned at him. 

“Isn’t she? 1967 Chevy Impala. My dad gave her to me when I turned sixteen. She was a beater then — I had to drop a new engine and get her reupholstered. But she was worth it.” 

“You rebuilt it yourself?” Castiel asked, impressed. 

“I had a little help, but mostly, yeah.” 

Dean unlocked the doors, and the two slid into the car. The interior looked as if Dean had just driven the car off the lot hours prior. 

“You must take very good care of this car,” Cas observed. “I’ve never seen anything so clean.” 

“Like I said, she’s worth it,” Dean replied, bringing the engine to a low roar. Cas was about to remark on the sound, when something on top of the dash caught his eye. 

A half-empty package of Marlboros. 

Dean turned to him, about to say something, but dropped his smile seeing Cas staring at the cigarettes. 

“Uh, I don’t… I don’t smoke in here,” he said. “Only outside. Just keep ‘em in here ‘cause you know. Dorms.” 

Cas nodded once. He’d never known anyone who smoked. “That’s—“

“Filthy habit, I know,” Dean interrupted. “I know.”

“I was going to say it’s good you don’t smoke in your car. Seeing as you put so much work into it,” Cas clarified, clearing his throat. Dean hadn’t shown a lick of judgement toward Castiel in the whole two months of their friendship. That wasn’t lost on Cas. He wasn’t about to turn his nose up at something as trivial as a nicotine addiction. 

Dean stared at him a moment before choking out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“It is… Quite bad for you, though,” Castiel added after a moment. “How long have you been..?”

“Since I was sixteen,” Dean answered. “It was… Well, we were living in Terrell, Texas at the time. Not much to do down there. I was skipping class with some guys and, well, you get the idea. Man, I thought my dad was going to be so pissed.” 

“Was he?”

Dean pursed his lips as he reversed out of the parking spot. “No. I mean, it wasn’t like he was proud, but more like he… Saw it comin’, I guess. He ain’t exactly a role model, anyway -- ever since Mom died, he’s had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.” 

“How did he find out?”

“Went through my room one time -- he thought I was stealing his liquor -- and found ‘em under my bed. He didn’t tell Sammy, though, so at least there’s that.” 

Castiel was quiet. The light from the streetlamps reflected on the road, wet from an earlier rainstorm. Wichita was disconcertingly empty at this hour, with most working people asleep and most college students at the library, studying for the upcoming exams. 

Dean broke the silence. “I keep saying I’m gonna quit, you know?” He shook his head. “It’s harder than it seems. I don’t even know what I miss more when I’m off of ‘em -- the ritual or the buzz.” 

“I can’t pretend I understand,” Cas said slowly, “I’ve never experienced it. But I know cigarettes are very difficult to leave behind. I don’t think you’re alone in that.” 

“I guess.” 

They pulled into the Taco Bell drive thru, which, to Castiel, was shockingly busy. 

“I’ve never told anyone about this,” Dean said, pointing to the cigarettes. “‘Cause it makes me feel like a dumbass. It’s the twenty-first century, you know, what kind of kid gets addicted to cigarettes?” He laughed quietly. “But it feels good, you knowing.” 

Cas smiled softly at him. “You can tell me anything, Dean.”

Dean held his gaze for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Cas didn’t look away, taking a moment in the dim illumination of the Taco Bell parking lot to study Dean. He had all the hallmarks of a teenage heartthrob — the chiseled face, the dirty blond hair, the green eyes — but there was something rougher there, too, something that Castiel could never discern.  

Dean finally looked away and cleared his throat. “What do you want, man?” 

“I’m fine, really,” Cas said. 

“Dude.” 

“Hi welcome to Taco Bell, what can I get for you,” a bored female voice called from the speaker. 

“Hi ma’am, could I just get two crunchwraps, a large diet Coke, and a water, please?” 

“Is that all?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Total is eight thirty-two at the window.” 

“Thanks.” 

Dean rolled the Impala’s window back up and took out his wallet. 

“What’s a crunchwrap?” Cas asked him when they were able to pull away from the speaker box. Dean’s head shot up, his eyes shocked. 

“You can’t seriously tell me you’ve never been to Taco Bell.”

“I’ve been to Taco Bell, Dean, I’ve just never heard of a crunchwrap,” Cas deadpanned. 

“Well, ain’t you in for a treat,” Dean said.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“Yeah, and I got two anyways.” Dean shot him a grin. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” 

Cas reached into his pocket for his own wallet. “At least let me --”

He was cut off by Dean pulling up to the window and thrusting a wad of cash at the man working.

“Thanks, man,” he said when he received the brown paper bag and the two drinks. He set the bag on Castiel’s lap and handed him the water, keeping the diet Coke in his hand as he sped off out of the drive thru. 

Dean pulled into a parking spot back at the dorm, and the two exited the Impala. The smell emanating from the bag in Castiel’s hands was making him hungry, and he was suddenly thankful that Dean had thought to order him something. 

Dean walked to the front of the car and sat down and motioned for Cas to do the same. He did, taking out one of the crunchwraps and handing it to Dean. He unwrapped his own, but at Dean’s expectant stare, raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“This is a very important moment,” Dean replied. “Go on.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but took a bite. He closed his eyes — he was hungrier than he thought — and when he had finished chewing, said, “This is very good.” 

“I knew it!” Dean said, triumphant. 

So they sat on the hood of the Impala, Dean emphatically recounting his worst Taco Bell-hangover experiences, Castiel laughing loudly and honestly, stealing sips of Dean’s diet Coke (“What the hell, Cas?” “Well, seeing as you failed to get me a drink more interesting than water”). And when the food was gone, Dean asked if he could smoke, and Cas felt strangely warm and brokenhearted watching his best friend light a cigarette by his side. 

It was near four in the morning when they returned to their room. Dean collapsed onto a pink beanbag he had brought to their dorm days earlier. When Cas had raised an eyebrow at the new addition, Dean had said, “Shut up. They’re comfy, and this was all Wal-Mart had.” 

“Shit. I’m gonna be dead tomorrow,” Dean said, sighing. 

“This was definitely not the most prudent decision,” Castiel agreed as he sat down in his own desk chair. Dean reached for his TV remote.

“Have you ever seen Tombstone?” He asked suddenly. At a shake of the head from Cas, he shot up. “Dude, you’ll love it. It’s one of my favorite movies.” 

Dean moved to his desk drawer and procured a DVD case. He took out the disk and gave Cas the plastic case. 

“It’s a western?” Cas asked after seeing the promotional picture. 

“Hell yes,” Dean said as he put the disk in his DVD player, “And it’s friggin’ awesome.” 

“Dean, it’s already four a.m.,” Cas pointed out. Dean waved him off. 

“Right, no point in trying to get any sleep now. We gotta commit to the all-nighter. Come on.” Cas rolled his eyes, but relaxed back into his chair, anyway, prepared to watch the movie. 

Dean turned the lights off, and the title menu illuminated the dark room. He sat back down in the beanbag, but turned to Cas before he pressed “play.”

“Dude, what are you doing?” 

Cas tilted his head in consternation. “Um… Waiting for you to start the movie?” 

“You’re going to watch it from all the way back there?” 

“Yes?” It came out as a question. 

“Like hell. The screen is tiny.” He patted the beanbag. “This thing is big enough for the both of us.”

Castiel seriously doubted that, but got up anyway. Dean adjusted his position so he was only taking up half of the beanbag space. Cas sat down carefully next to him. He tried not to notice Dean’s shoulder pressed against his, the way one wrong move would land his hand squarely in Dean’s lap. Dean hit “play.”

Dean spent the first half of the movie commenting on his favorite parts (which mostly consisted of gushing about Val Kilmer’s… everything). When he started nodding off during the second half, Cas suggested that maybe they should go to bed. Dean stubbornly refused, but ended up falling asleep as Wyatt Earp killed Curly Bill. 

“All-nighter,” Cas mumbled to himself upon noticing Dean’s open-mouthed snores. He, too, was exhausted, fighting to stay awake. Cas was moments away from nodding off when Dean shifted. He curled onto his side, his head now placed firmly on top of Cas’ shoulder.  

Cas froze. Had he woken up? A snore answered the question with a resounding “no.” 

Cas knew he should move. He should turn the TV off, set his seven-thirty alarm, and climb up to his bed to sleep. But he was so tired. And Dean was warm, pressed against his side. And it didn’t matter, anyway. It didn’t mean anything. 

Cas didn’t have time to consider why he felt the need to point that out to himself in the first place. The TV remained on, his alarm remained off. He fell asleep, contentedly breathing in the scent of rain and cigarette smoke. 

--------

tagging @nguyenxtrang (sorry! I updated yesterday but forgot to post on tumblr)

[linkispink1995]

The Upcoming Tides (1)

this is a prequel to this story 

Chapter Warnings :language , smutty talk mentions of underage drinking 

A/N: let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list , please do not plagiarize my work. Stay safe and feedback is apricated , Thanks - Meg

October 25th 1984

"Y/n , Y/n , Y/n wake up I've called for you three times" I rolled over before seeing my stepmother Jill who had my six and a half month old brother Peter on her hip , I sat up before saying "what time is it". Jill responded saying "Matthew already left so now I have to drive you , let's go" she walked out of my bedroom before slamming the door to my bedroom , now I know what your thinking what a shitty way to wake up in the morning but this wasn't uncommon for me. Before my dad married Jill life was a lot more different , my mom Emily was the absolute perfect mother , made everyday and every holiday special that was until she got sick. When I was eight my mom passed away which sent me practically spiraling , I didn't talk to anyone , I stayed in my room and just wanted to be alone until more recently in the past couple of year when I was slowly starting to break out of my shell. When It was just my dad and my brother Matt and I everything was different without mom but we had each other until my dad brought a friend of my mothers over for dinner and told Matt and I they were going to get married , Jill my stepmother had known since I was a little girl. I never really liked her but she was okay , she worked with my mother and would babysit us from time to time but that was all now she was my stepmother who treated me more like cinderella , I did most of the cleaning , I was practically raising Peter who was my father and hers son they had a year after being married and I was exhausted. I was up with Peter in the night , I had school and didn't go to bed till late meaning I was getting maybe three or four hours of sleep. I was tying my shoes when Jill walked into my bedroom , she spoke saying "Y/n lets go now please" I responded saying "I'm ready now Jill" she shook her head saying "what have we talked about you can't call me that it'll confuse your brother". I spoke again saying "I'm ready now mom" she nodded saying "good let's go" I hated when she did that , make me call her mom that isn't fair I have a mom and if she was here she wouldn't stand for this. Jill pulled up in front of the school before she spoke saying "come home strait away I need you to watch Peter this afternoon I'm busy" I rolled my eyes not being shocked before mumbling something under my breath. Jill of course caught me since she spoke saying "what was that" I shook my head as she added "Y/n what was that you said" I looked at the clock above the radio before saying "I uh I have to go or I'll be late and I have a biology test" she huffed before I got out of the car.

I walked into the school and quickly speed to my locker before bumping into someone and knocking whatever was in their hands , I spoke saying "I'm sorry I wasn't looking-" I cut myself off once I saw who exactly I ran into. Steve Harrington , most girls would've have just loved this and would've jumped up and down and squealed like a pig in mud but I was not like most girls. I hated Steve Harrington , a long time ago before my brain fully developed  I had a major crush on him up until I went to a party and woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a passed out Steve next to me. I quickly dropped his books I was handing back to him before walking to my locker , after grabbing what I needed I finally made it to my first class. I walked in to Mr. Andrews History class to be greeted by the sight of my brother Matthew or Matt and his girlfriend of almost five years seated on his lap. I knew he and Colleen were affectionate (I sadly had walked in on that a couple times) but this was almost embarrassing , I shrugged that off and took my seat before Mr. Andrews walked in saying "Ms. Thomas could you find a seat other then on Mr. Paterson" everyone in the class chuckled except me since I didn't think that was funny before he started the lesson.

My lunch tray had just been filled with what appeared to be mixed vegetables , mash potato's and what they were trying to pass as meatloaf when I walked over and took a seat with my friends as well as bandmates. Yes you heard me I'm in a band , I play drums and sometimes sing backup it was what was getting me through high school and losing my mom and the only thing that was really helping besides art. I took the seat across from our guitarist Ross who was your typical bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks he was seated next to Francine or Franny who  was our lead singer and Ross's on again off again girlfriend. Oh and of course next to me was our keyboard player Brenda Sinclair who also wrote songs from time to time but never let any of us see or hear them since she was so shy. Ross spoke saying "Fran I'm not telling you again I'm not wearing a costume to Tina's party I'll look like an ass" she frowned saying "come on Ross it's Halloween and besides Nancy Wheller in my biology was talking and her and her boyfriend are dressing up , please Ross". He shook his head saying "no way and besides who cares I mean isn't she with the freaks sister" Brenda spoke saying "knock it off Ross he isn't a freak and besides she's with Steve Harrington" I gaged at the mention n of her name before Franny turned to me and spoke saying. "are you going Y/n" I shrugged as she added "you all are so lame come on Halloween of are senior year lets do something fun". Ross spoke again saying "we can do what we did last year" Franny rolled her eyes saying "if you mean getting drunk and going cow tipping then you can go alone" he nodded saying "sounds like fun Brenda you gonna join me" she shook her head saying. "Can't have to stay and watch my sister and wait up for my brother" Ross sighed before saying "Y/n my favorite drummer in the whole wide world" I shook my head as he scoffed saying "you know what you all suck" he got no response before a voice spoke up "Y/n" I looked up to see my brother's girlfriend Colleen standing there . She then added "can we sit with you guys or-" she was cut off by Ross saying "sorry no ex cheerleader allowed" that was low , even for Ross she then nodded before walking away from the table "what in the hell is wrong with you" Brenda said before Ross chuckled and looked at me saying. "What is wrong with you Colleen Thomas seriously you think little miss prim and proper thinks she can belong with us cause she's screwing your brother" I rolled my eyes before Brenda said. "You just think your so great don't you" he nodded saying "I'm the greatest thing that's happened besides that chick kicking Harrington's ass a couple years back" Brenda scoffed before he added "what you don't agree". I huffed saying "first jackass she broke his nose and second that was really shitty what you did to Colleen". Ross responded saying "oh whatever are you gonna do that Paterson thing and storm off or-" Ross was cut off by another voice "hey guys so what's going on" I looked up to see Jeffrey he took the seat next to Brenda before saying "so I got us a gig" we all nodded before he said "so Tina's idiot brother spilt a beer on the speakers so she's looking for a band and I may or may not have told her that the Pinheads are available that night and we have a gig she's paying us two hundred dollars so between the five of us that's forty each". We nodded again before he added "oh and we have to wear costumes" Ross of course rolled his eyes before Nathan continued to tell us about our upcoming gig.

I grabbed the final books I needed before walking out into the parking lot to see Jill's car , I got into the passenger seat before she spoke saying, "I need you to sit in the back" I rolled my yes saying "why" Jill responded saying "Peter fussed the whole time and I don't feel like running my errands with a fussy baby now get in the back". I rolled my eyes before picking up my backpack and sitting in the back seat , I hadn't sat in the back seat since I was ten and now I had to sit because of Peter. I loved Peter don't get me wrong but after the day I had I didn't want to sit in the back seat , I buckled my seatbelt before looking over to see Peter was fast asleep. Jill chuckled to herself before pulling out of the school , on the drive to who knows were I pulled out my Walkman before sliding a tape into it.

When we got to the register at the grocery store and the cashier began to scan the groceries Peter dropped his pacifier and began to fuss , thankfully I caught it before it could hit the germ infested ground and gave it back to him before he calmed himself down. The cashier spoke saying "adorable baby" Jill nodded since anytime someone had something nice to say about peter she agreed but when it came to Matt and I she completely disagreed and had something bad to say. The cashier spoke to Jill again saying "oh so are you grandma" Jill's face dropped before she spoke saying "I beg your pardon" the cashier then added "oh I just saw a young girl with a baby so I assumed-" Jill interrupted the women saying "no we aren't that charity case family trust me , we sadly live across from them , what a tragedy" I shook my head saying "mom really that's Matt's friend-" she cut me off saying "oh please you mean his side peice". I sighed before saying "mom can we just go your being really embarrassing" she shook her head before looking at the cashier saying "sorry about her it's probably her time of the month" my jaw feel before Jill paid for the groceries and we left.

We were sitting at the dinning room table my dad spoke saying "how was practice Mathew" he nodded saying "good we got a game Saturday" dad nodded before saying "how about you Y/n make anyone cry" I rolled my eyes before saying "fine". He nodded again before adding "how are your grades" I responded saying "their good dad" he sighed saying "good grades don't get you in to college great grades get you in , Matt's lucky cause he'll get an athletic scholarship but you need to focus on those grades do you understand". I nodded before Jill spoke saying "well you'll never guess what I heard today" Dad nodded to seem interested in whatever she was saying she then spoke again saying "I heard that the Buckley's are getting a divorce". Dad gasped saying "no kidding" I sighed before she added " I bet she's leaving him , I know I would" I shook my head before she spoke again saying "I'm sorry do you have a problem with that Y/n" I shook my head before saying. "Yeah I got a problem that's none of your damn business" she scoffed saying "young lady you won't talk to me like that , I am your mother". I shook my head saying "no you aren't my mother is Emily Paterson and your will never come close to her" I yelled , I had never yelled at Jill. Sure I've dreamed of it but I never really did it and it appeared Peter didn't like my yelling cause he began to fuss , Jill stood up and picked him up before walking out of the dinning room before my father spoke saying "Mathew get a head start on that homework , Y/n young lady you'll do these dishes" I sighed before beginning to take the dishes off the table.

I had just finished the dishes when I saw Jill standing in the doorway of the living room , she spoke saying. "Y/n your father want to talk to you" I nodded before following Jill in the family , Jill took a seat on the couch next to my father , he looked angry almost disappointed. I took a seat in the chair across before seeing there was an object on the table , it was a red flask. Dad finally spoke saying "Y/n is there something you'd like to tell me , maybe about were this came from". He then gestured to the flask , I shook my head before Jill spoke saying "Y/n honey I found this in your laundry hamper honey you can tell us , did somebody sleep over last night" I shook my head before she added "Y/n Matthew already told us he bumped into somebody coming downstairs , you don't need to be embarrassed okay your at an age where your going to start being interested in those things but you need to be carful". What in the actual hell was she talking about , I didn't have anyone over last night , dad spoke up saying "tell her what else you found Jill" Jill frowned before putting another object on the coffee table , I knew by the foiled wrapper exactly what it was. dad frowned before saying "your grounded for a month , I won't tolerate this in my house and your will start helping your mother with Peter" I sighed before saying "dad I-" he cut me off saying "your too young to drink and your too young to be doing any of that , doesn't that girl down the street scare you she's got a baby there is no way she'll have a future and I don't want that to be you". I scoffed saying "Matt has Colleen over all the time" dad shook his head saying "well that's different , now I want you to apologize to your mother and go upstairs do you understand" I huffed saying "no I'm not apologizing to her , she went through my stuff and she treats me like I'm a maid or her nanny I'm not doing it" I went upstairs before hearing my dad call for me a couple of times , I continued to walk upstairs and ignore his calls before beginning to knock on Matt's door. A moment later the door opened and before he could say anything I spoke saying "what the hell is wrong with you , you told dad so guy came out of my room this morning seriously" Matt shook his head saying "no I didn't okay dad asked me if I've ever seen some guy leaving here and I was honest and I told him the truth" I rolled my eyes saying "did you tell him it happened two years ago when he and Jill were on their honeymoon". Matt sighed saying "no I didn't actually cause he didn't ask" I rolled my eyes saying "well now I'm grounded for a month" he responded saying "well that's what happens when you sleep around I guess-" he cut himself off by saying "Y/n I didn't mean that I " I walked away before entering my bedroom and shutting the door.

I was seated on my bed looking through the box I kept under my bed , it was filled with pictures of my mom , Matt and I , some of just her and few other things one of them being a locket I had remembered her wearing when I was kid. For some reason something came over me and I felt the need to try it on , to wear it and maybe just maybe wearing it would make me feel something , realize something. I pushed my hair aside before putting the necklace around my neck and fixed the clasp on it before putting my hair back and began to feel like it was that cold winter night when I was six years old again. It felt like my mom was their , watching over me but if she was then why was she then why would she let this happen , I felt like cinderella but at the end of her story she got a prince and their no way that'll happen any time soon right ?

Taglist @charmed-asylum

[zuffer-weird-girl]

I will just say YES 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 my baby KAITO FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL INDEED WAS SOMETHING UNIQUE 😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥 I am curios honestly how a kid who only interacted with tough men Yakuza deal with other kids. I mean the only kids he knows are kin and haru .. but those girls are way to younger. *was even kin born ?* I will just say i am looking forward to it. Kai better not to threat any teacher on that day 😂💘.

baby boi Kaito only has his sister only after two months he made it into seven years old ^^ while Haru is two years younger

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why are they crying..?" Kaito asked numbly, looking at a couple comforting probably their daughter while she cried endlessly.

Not only her actually... a bunch of kids around his age were crying and even some were aling with their parents...

"Because they are spoiled runts." Chisaki mumbled while you only sended him a hopeless look.

Brat was common for him to call his son but other kids he had to refer as that... not even caring if other people could hear it or not.

It didn't matter to him, especially since they recognized him as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai... what would they do about it? Come fight with him? One glare of his was enough to send even adults shivering...

"Runts." Kaito repeated monotonously as he looked at the kids in seriousness.

"Baby please don't refer your colleagues like that..." you said desperately at your six years old boy who only looked up at you in question, pointing discretely at the kids woth one of his eyebrows lifted up.

"Colleagues? This bunch of nobodies? I prefer being with the eight precepts..."

Kai had to stifle a dry chuckle at his son tone of voice and commentary before you and him gave him your goodbyes, promising to pick him up later.

"Guess who got mom's attention now brat?" Chisaki whispered to his son before he gasped in offence and tried to reach for you two... but the guard had stopped him.

"MY REVENGE IS CLOSER DADDY!"

"Revenge? Revenge of wh-"

"This kid is weird, didn't you already got used to it angel?" Chisaki waved off your question and walked besides you.

Kaito slowly made his way to the class and soom spoted a bunch of the kids he saw, crying their eyes out, talking eargly and happily together.

What the hell? Weren't they sad a second ago? Were they sick? Daddy wouldn't like this place...

He immediately notice the mess it was the place, toys sprawled out everywhere and their school suplies messily placed on their desks...

"Ew..." Kaito mumbled monoustly before taking a place on the front.

The teacher soon cams in and helped the students ro introduce theirselfes, gently grabbing their wrist and helping writing their name on the huge board.

"Now you! What's your name cutie?" The brow haired woman asked looking at Kaito, whose immediately got up from his chair with a nod and grabbed the chalk.

He slowly wrote his name on Kanji on the board before finishing with a point and placing the chalk back. Looking dead in the eyes of their classmates speaking out loud.

"Chisaki. Kaito Chisaki."

He noticed how his teacher stared imprissed at seing only him be able to write his name so perfectly before jumping at hearing the 'Chisaki'.

"Chisaki you say?!" Another boy shouted at the end of the classroom.

"Are you deaf or blind? I just said it... and is writen over here." He innocently pointed at the board, not notocing that he was slightly rude.

"I heard that name before! It was from my daddy! He said it was from a criminal! Is your dad a criminal?" A girl exclaimed not much far away while the teacher's face went white.

"No. Your dad must be dump." Kaito said already in defence as he looked up at the quivering woman.

"Can I sit now? Please?"

The teacher put on a nervous smile and nodded at the boy before returning the class, TRYING to ignore the fact that she was the unfortunate to be the one responsible for the leader of the mafia's son... Overhaul's son...

Oh god she was soooo screwed...

~

"Yo! Chisaki!" A boy exclaimed at Kaito who only looked up from his drawing in disinterest.

"Your dad is an yakusa boss huh?! That is cool! How many people he beat up or kills at the day?"

Kaito lifted one of his eyebrows up, not even expressing a hint of any emotions.

"Since when this is from your concern?" The boys looked at him like he just spoke another language and Chisaki smirked while scoffing.

'Idiots.' he thought when he returned his attention to his drawing.

"Hey Chisaki-kun? Do you wanna play with us?" A girl aproached him and Kaito sighed in annoyance, guarding his suplies and drawing.

"Play what? Shogi?" The girl shook her head and pointed at the bunch of kids a bit far away.

"Its hide and seek!"

"... we are on the class. There is no room to hide, unless you just cave a hole and just... burries yourself." Kaito pointed at the ground, cleary not understanding their sensw of knowledge.

"Besides this place is a mess already... excuse me? Miss Suzuki?" The teacher looked down in surprise at the boy in wonder bit smiled no less at the chivalry this little man already had.

"Yes Chisaki? What do you need?"

"Is more like a question. Does the people responsible for cleaning even know how to properly clean?" The teacher widened her eyes in surprise "There is a lot of dust on the floor and maybe a few orders about organization would be good around here, because look!" He pointed at the center which was indeed a mess.

"The worst part is that this kid is right..." the teacher whispered ro herself before she felt Kaito tigging at her clothing and offering her a handkerchief.

"Sorry, your glasses are dirty. I thought you might need one of these."

"U-uh! Thank you Kaito, is... sweet of you." She said embarringly while picking the the object from Kaito's hand.

It was going to be a long year for her...

[adoras-last-braincell]

prompt: one shot set back before Adora left the Horde. Maybe the first time Catra ends up sleeping at the foot of Adora's bed? Friendship <3 Doomed, doomed, doomed friendship </3 Given the fact that she's a cat it could be because of a storm or something. @sleeplessdoe0119

Catra wasn’t scared of thunder.

She was almost eight years old, a junior cadet, and junior cadets were not scared of thunder. More importantly, she was Catra, and Catra was not scared of anything--least of all a stupid storm. Even if the barracks were on the top floor, and a thin metal roof was all that separated her from the crack of thunder and the roar of driving rain. 

The worst part was that she used to like thunderstorms. That all changed a few months ago, however, when Shadow Weaver decided that her score in survival training was unacceptably low and gave her an additional test. A “pass/fail exam,” she’d called it. What it really consisted of was throwing her outside in the middle of the worst thunderstorm the Fright Zone had seen with no warning, no protection, no supplies, and no way back in.

She didn’t know if Shadow Weaver had expected balls of ice to fall from the sky--hail, she later learned it was called--but it did. And it hurt. A lot. The deafening cracks of thunder hurt her ears, too, and by the time Adora figured out what happened she’d been outside for hours, reduced to a soaked, bruised, sobbing lump huddled on the ground near one of the locked entryways.

So, yeah. She didn’t like thunderstorms anymore. 

But that didn’t mean she was scared of them. 

A long, low rumble of thunder made the frame of the bunkbed vibrate, and her fingers tightened on the edge of the mattress, claws sinking into the stiff material. That was fine. It was quiet, predictable. She could almost pretend it was like a big purr from the sky.

Then came a crack of thunder so loud that it shook the entire room, and if she jumped any higher she would’ve hit the ceiling. A startled yelp escaped her and she clamped her mouth shut. Not-afraid people did not make sounds like that.

“Catra?” The voice from the bed below hers was quiet, thick with sleep.

She took a deep breath, hoping her own voice wouldn’t shake. “What do you want, Adora?”

A displeased grumble came from one of the other cadets, and Adora apparently decided that calling up her answer wouldn’t be the smartest choice. Instead, her reply came in the form of two soft knocks against the bedframe--their code for “Let’s talk.”

Sighing, Catra crawled to the edge of the bed and swung down, almost landing on top of Adora. She barely flinched, too busy sleepily rubbing her eyes with one hand. Catra didn’t speak. She just sat across from Adora on the mattress, legs crossed so their knees almost touched, hunched over in what she hoped was an annoyed posture. 

“Are you okay?” Adora whispered. 

Catra hunched further. “Of course I am,” she hissed back. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“I just thought--” Adora stopped for a moment. “I mean, I couldn’t sleep. The storm was too loud.” 

Liar, Catra thought, watching Adora stifle a yawn. 

“And that really loud thunder just now kind of scared me,” Adora continued. 

Uh-huh. Catra’s tail swished behind her in annoyance.

Adora scooted backward until she was leaning against the cool metal wall, then patted the mattress next to her. Catra raised an eyebrow, then slowly crawled over and sat next to her, their shoulders touching. She hadn’t realized she’d been trembling until it suddenly lessened at the contact.

There was silence for a moment, except for the ever-present sounds of the storm outside, then Adora started talking again.

“I thought it was stupid of me to be scared of the storm, but then I remembered something I found in a book,” she whispered, even quieter now that they were closer. “Being brave isn’t not being afraid, it’s getting through something anyway even though you are afraid.”

It was a nice thought. Not true, but nice. 

“Sounds dumb,” Catra said.

Adora ignored her. “Not being scared of things that are scary doesn’t mean you’re brave, it just means you’re stupid. You have to be scared in order to be brave. And you have to be strong in order to be brave. So, logically--”

They had just covered logic on one of their classes, so naturally Adora latched onto it and now used “logic” as often as possible. It was almost endearing, but mostly annoying. 

“--logically,” Adora finished, “You have to be afraid to be strong.”

“Adora. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is not!” she said indignantly. A little too indignantly; another cadet stirred in the dark at her voice. Catra hissed for her to be quiet. 

“Is not,” she repeated, softer. 

Catra snorted quietly. “That’s not what our teachers say.”

“Yeah, well, I like what the book said better,” Adora replied, stifling another yawn as she let her head fall to Catra’s shoulder. Catra felt herself relaxing a little further.

“Where’d you even find a book that says stuff like that?”

Adora’s eyes had closed, but now they opened a sliver and her lips curled up in a mischievous grin.

“Somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be.”

Catra gasped in only partially feigned offense. “And you didn’t take me?” 

“I didn’t know if I could get in!” Adora protested. “I’ll take you next time. Promise.”

“You’d better.” 

As much as she hated to admit it, Catra was starting to feel… better. Rain still poured onto the roof and occasional low rumbles of thunder rattled the barracks, but the tension she’d felt since the storm first began was beginning to unravel. At her side, Adora’s breathing had become more even, and her head suddenly slipped forward off Catra’s shoulder before she caught herself and jerked awake. 

Catra pushed her shoulder gently. “Go to sleep, idiot.”

“Mmg,” Adora mumbled. 

She wasn’t about to let her stupid fear of a thunderstorm keep Adora awake. Shadow Weaver pushed all of them hard, but Adora even harder. She needed sleep. 

Catra pushed Adora upright and started to get up to return to her own bed, but then Adora latched onto her arm.

“Stay here?” Adora asked, eyes wide and pleading.

To be honest, Catra wasn’t looking forward to returning to her bed. The storm seemed to have lessened somewhat, but she knew the low rumbles could turn to another startling crash of thunder at any moment. Somehow, it was easier to be brave down here.

Catra almost felt like thanking Adora for asking her to stay. So instead, she said: “You’re a big baby.”

Adora smiled.

As small as they were, there was plenty of room at the end of Adora’s bed. Catra stifled a yawn of her own and curled up on the stiff mattress just beneath Adora’s feet.

“G’night, Catra,” came a whisper from above her.

Fondess tugged in Catra’s chest. “Night, Adora,” she whispered back.

She breathed deeply and let her eyes drift closed, hoping that with the familiar scent of the blanket beneath her and the warmth she could almost feel nearby, she might finally be able to sleep.

A crash of thunder rattled the barracks, and she immediately tensed.

Adora shifted, and through the blanket, Catra felt the gentle press of a foot against her side. She expected her to pull back after realizing the contact, but instead it stayed there, warm and strangely comforting. 

Catra sighed, letting her eyes slip shut again. 

Someday, she’d be so strong she wouldn’t be afraid of anything.

But right now… maybe she didn’t have to be.

---

And that’s that--hope you liked it! I wrote it in a couple hours and it’s not edited aside from a quick re-read, but hopefully it’s not too bad. XD Thanks for the prompt, it was a really sweet one!

[inactiive-shit]

Supernova

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Title: Supernova

Prompt: trick-or-treat

Warnings: none, as far as I can tell

Pairing: Pre-romantic Analogical, sibling Prinxiety, sibling Logicality

Words: 3,508 (this got away from me.)

@sanderssidescelebrations​ Here we are, day three already! We’re all suffering but I wrote fluff because it just be that way sometimes. Enjoy!

Virgil didn’t exactly have ‘friends’. He didn’t care particularly about it, didn’t really think he needed them to be happy when he had his ten year old brother and his dad. That being said, he had definitely been planning on watching horror movies the whole night and into the next morning in honor of the best holiday ever: Halloween. He even had his favorites already set up (Nightmare Before Christmas, The Corpse Bride, and Coraline among others.) Besides all that, he was sixteen and didn’t feel like being the kid who got yelled at by the neighbors because he was ‘too old’ to go trick-or-treating. So he had planned to watch movies until he passed out and probably be scared to go in the bathroom for a month after.

But plans change, and often with very little warning.

Dad had been so sick that morning that he hadn’t even gone to work. So sick, in fact, that he had asked Virgil to take Roman to school for him because he didn’t think he should be driving with the migraine he had. And of course Virgil had done it, hadn’t even questioned it. He had picked up other chores once he got home, too, so that Dad wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Though he played the part of the uncaring, leather-jacket-and-dark-sunglasses badass to the outside world, things were different in their little bubble. Virgil knew his Dad was just as prone to over-thinking and incessant worry as he was. (It had to come from somewhere, right?)

But he hadn’t even thought about trick-or-treating. Their Dad loved taking them, loved getting dressed up and taking an obnoxious amount of pictures just as much as Roman loved showing off his costumes and Virgil had loved getting candy. So when Dad asked him to do it last minute, practically begging, voice hoarse and eyes barely open, Virgil had just shoved a cup of tea into his hands, kissed his movies goodbye, and got dressed.

And that’s how now, at five fifty-nine p.m., one minute before Halloween was officially underway, Virgil was standing in front of the house in a Jack Skellington costume he’d outgrown two years ago next to Roman, dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. They both smiled as Dad took pictures, and Virgil tried not to wince in sympathy when Dad started to look too unsteady on his feet.

“Alright, boys. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t let you do.” He ruffled Roman’s hair and pulled Virgil into a hug. “Thank you for taking him out, Virge. It means a lot,” Dad whispered, voice devoid of his regular smart-ass tone both of his sons had inherited. “And you did really good on Roman’s make-up.”

“Course,” Virgil said. He pulled away and snagged Roman’s hand. “What time do we have to be back by?”

“It ends at eight, so no later than eight thirty.” He pushed his sunglasses up on his head and gave them both a piercing, undoubtedly painful stare. Virgil nodded and Roman pouted. “Good. I love you two. Now get out of here.” Roman darted in for one last hug and then took off down the street. Virgil trailed him, holding both their pillowcases. Dad had said Virgil should do it too and to hell with anyone who complained about it, but was it really worth ruining Roman’s Halloween to cause a scene with some cranky old lady? Virgil figured it wasn’t.

There was already a stream of kids heading up to the first house, and it was looking like some of them had started early. Some other chaperones stood on the sidewalk by Virgil as he passed Roman his bag and let him head up to the door. Roman blended seamlessly into the hoard and Virgil sighed. It made him anxious that he couldn’t see Roman when he was supposed to be watching him, though he knew Roman wouldn’t run off without him. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry about it.

Some of the other parents held spare bags in their hands, and Virgil looked contemplatively at them. Why did they have extra bags? What was the point of that?

“Virge! Look! I got a bunch of Hershey kisses!” Roman didn’t even pause long enough to let Virgil see, just grabbed his hand and went for the next house. He babbled about the other kids costumes and how cool some of them were and must have waved at a minimum of twelve other kids by the time he waltzed up to the next house.

Virgil tried not to look like he was moping, but he must have been doing a pretty bad job because someone came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, an apology on his lips, and stopped dead. Standing behind him was the one person at school that Virgil actively regretted that he didn’t talk to: Logan Abbott. He was brash and loud and always fought back against unfair rules and had pretty much every quality Virgil valued in a person. He also managed to make a tie look hot, and it was entirely possible that Virgil wanted to do more than talk to Logan. Though he was always wearing professional clothing at school, he was currently wearing a white lab coat and had all sorts of medical props hanging off it. He was about three inches shorter than Virgil normally, but he must have been wearing platform shoes of some kind because right now Virgil was definitely looking up to see his eyes.

“Salutations, Virgil,” he said. Virgil nodded mutely, just staring. How was he supposed to talk to a person he liked as a person? “Are you trick-or-treating or have you come out on the request of your parents?”

“I came out years ago,” Virgil said, and yeah it was true but why say it. Oh, god, Virgil was absolutely too gay to deal with this. He couldn’t have his first one-on-one interaction with Logan him just being gay, oh god, what if Logan was weirded out by that? Virgil really just needed to quit while he was behind.

“I as well,” Logan said, smirking slightly and why couldn’t he just say ‘me too’ like a normal person? What was with this ‘I as well’ bullshit like he was smart, he needed to stop being smart because Virgil definitely might do something stupid if he kept doing it. “Though I meant to ask if you are watching a sibling.”

Wait. ‘I as well’ meant Logan was gay-er, well, probably meant Logan was gay and Virgil was gay as fuck so maybe-

“Uh, yeah. My brother’s only ten, can’t go by himself yet.” If Virgil could hold onto his language processing skills, maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster. And stop thinking about being gay with Logan, though that was another matter altogether.

“My brother’s ten, too,” Logan said. “I have to take him because our parents tend to work through dinner.” They lapsed into silence, and Virgil really had to wonder what was taking Roman so long. If he hurried up, there was a slight possibility that Virgil could make it out of this without being too weird.

“Virgil!” Roman cried right on que, barreling into Virgil’s legs. “I found Patton!” Indeed, there was another ten year old trailing Roman across the yard.

“Lolo!” the other child, presumably Patton, yelled. He grabbed Logan’s hand and began swinging it back and forth. “It’s Roro!” He giggled and mock-whispered to Roman, “You rhyme.”

“I’m very glad you found one of your friends, Patton,” Logan said. He smiled kindly at Roman and Virgil wanted to sink into the ground with how nice that was. “Hello. I am Logan, Patton’s older brother.”

“I’m Roman! Patton’s my best friend in the whole world.” Roman pointed at Virgil. “This is my brother Virgil. Are you dating him? You’re standing really close.”

“Roman,” Virgil hissed, and he was suddenly glad he’d decided to paint his face. Logan couldn’t see the blush underneath that thick layer of applied death.

“No, I am not currently dating your brother. We know each other from school.” Currently? What the fuck was currently about? Were they going to dating? Where was that distinction coming from? Why did he say that? CURRENTLY?

“You’re not supposed to just stay stuff like that,” Virgil said.

Roman shrugged. “Dad doesn’t care.”

“That’s because Dad doesn’t have a filter either,” he muttered. Logan snorted next to him and Virgil really couldn’t help staring with how cute that noise had been. How was one person allowed to be so adorable?

“Which way are you heading?” Logan asked. Virgil motioned up the street. “Us too,” he said and turned so they could walk together. Virgil’s eyes widened. Oh, gods above, they were walking together now. What was he supposed to do with that? Was he supposed to do anything? Were they going to be doing this all night?

“C’mon, Ro, this way,” Virgil said as Roman started lagging behind to talk to Patton. He galloped to catch up, and then passed Virgil and Logan yelling, “That’s Captain Jack Sparrow to you!” Patton started to run up the yard after him, but then paused.

“Lo, weren’t we already at this house?” Patton asked.

“No, Patton, we weren’t. Go catch up with Roman,” Logan urged him and shoved Patton’s shoulder a little. Patton took off running, but Logan turned red and didn’t look at Virgil. If they had come from this way, why would Logan tell Virgil he was coming this way? Unless, he wanted to come with Virgil, but that was ridiculous because they had never really spoken in class and he didn’t know anything about him. It was actually much more likely that he was coming so Patton could stay with Roman, but then why hadn’t he told Patton when he made that decision? Unless he didn’t want Patton to know, but why wouldn’t he? Nothing was making sense anymore.

“Your costume looks nice. What are you dressed up as?” Logan asked, blush still faintly on his cheeks as they waited on the sidewalk.

“Jack Skellington,” Virgil said. “Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“I know all of those words, but not in that order,” Logan said. Virgil stared, open-mouthed.

“You’ve never seen Nightmare Before Christmas?” he asked. Logan shook his head curiously. “It’s-it’s amazing, you have to watch. I can’t be seen associating with someone who’s never seen Nightmare Before Christmas before.”

“Then  you’ll have to show it to me. I certainly wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation,” Logan quipped. Virgil laughed.

“What about you, glasses? What are you dressed up as?”

Logan groaned. “Dr. Frankenstein, though I have come to see the error in my ways. Nobody knows who he is; they all think Frankenstein is the monster.”

Virgil nodded sagely. “You definitely can’t just expect average people to know things about the classics. They’re not all monsterfuckers.” Logan’s laugh boomed out unexpectedly and Virgil startled, then stared. If he got any gayer tonight, he wasn’t going to make it. Roman would have to venture home without him. Dad would have come out of the house, fever-ridden and all, and look for his body because Logan kept being cuter than was physically possible or acceptable and it was going to kill him.

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” Logan wheezed. They followed Roman and Patton to the next house down, and Virgil allowed Logan to catch his breath. It really hadn’t been that funny, but he’d like to cause whatever just happened to happen again regardless.

“Do you not go to the houses with your brother?” Logan asked.

“Nah,” Virgil said. “I prefer not to get yelled at by strangers because I’m too old for Halloween.”

“Fair enough,” Logan ceded, “but most people in this neighborhood are not so judgemental that you have to worry about it. Also,” he added, voice low and conspiratorial, “I have figured out the algorithm for obtaining the optimal amount of candy.”

“Oh, really?” Virgil asked, intrigued despite himself. “You managed to apply math to Halloween?”

Logan nodded confidently. “I also go up to the doors for the first half of the night. After that, I allow Patton to dump his candy into my bag every few houses so that his bag is empty. It makes him more likely to get more candy from the following houses. The adults are inclined to believe that he was late getting out because of a tardy parent or uncooperative older sibling. They feel bad for him.”

“Isn’t that a lot like stealing? Or lying?” Virgil asked.

“They give it over willingly enough, though I prefer to think of it as a creative solution to not being able to afford candy other times of the year anyway,” Logan said, and Virgil couldn’t fault him there. His family wasn’t quite well-off enough to buy a lot of sweets outside special occasions either, so Halloween held them through to Christmas when extended family started sending in cards and money.

“Smart,” Virgil said. Logan preened and smiled, near blinding and yeah, Virgil was so, so gay. He was going to die if Logan kept being this cute.

“I know, but thank you nonetheless.” Virgil choked on a laugh, and they tracked Roman and Patton to the next house.

“Shall we?” Logan asked, motioning up the driveway. Virgil nodded.

“We shall.” They went up to doors with their siblings for the next half hour, and somehow, nobody called them out. Virgil got a few stink-eyes, but he also got candy so it was really sort of like being paid to piss people off. By enjoying himself. It was awesome. He definitely owed Logan for introducing him to the wonders of Halloween as a teenager.

Logan caught his arm as they came up to the next house. “Have Roman dump his candy into your bag and let him go up alone.” Logan had Patton do the same. Logan didn’t let go of Virgil’s arm, and Virgil tried to have coherent thoughts past that, but it really wasn’t happening. Logan was right here, talking to him, touching him, voluntarily spending time with him.

When the Roman and Patton came back, they both reported that they had been given extra candy by the sympathetic woman manning the candy bowl.

“See?” Logan said, smirking down at Virgil. “Pretty effective.” Virgil grinned back and shrugged.

“Pretty genius,” he agreed.

“Very pretty,” Logan said, and his face began glowing red. “Y-you, I mean. Not me.”

“You are, too,” Virgil said.

“I-oh.” Logan seemed at a loss for words.

“Thank you, though,” Virgil continued. “It’s not everyday someone as cute as you wants to compliment me.” Where this other Virgil was coming from, Virgil didn’t know. He had never used words to do something like this before, it was crazy-talk. He wasn’t a confident, flirty person!

“Well, I, uhm.” Logan stopped and took a breath. “They should. You are a very attractive person, Virgil.” It was Virgil’s turn to blush wildly.

“C’mon, nerd,” he said. “They’re getting away from us.” Virgil didn’t say anything else, and he also didn’t pull away when Logan’s hand dropped from his arm to his own hand and held it. Virgil squeezed once, a barely there pressure on Logan’s skin, and then they both released.

Virgil was, completely and totally, without question, going to lose it.

They kept talking and walking through the neighborhood, but as they approached the last few houses Virgil couldn’t help but feel like something was slipping away from him. So as soon as there was a lull in conversation, he blurted, “Where do you live?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Virgil refused to admit defeat and drop eye-contact even if it felt physically painful at this point. “Right down there, on Sycamore.” Logan jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s not too far out of our way, and we don’t have to be home immediately. We can walk you. I mean, I’m sure Roman wants some more time with Patton, and it wouldn’t be a big deal or anything and-” Virgil forced himself to shut up. He steadied his brain before he opened his mouth again. “I don’t really want to quit talking to you quite so soon. If you want.”

A smile bloomed over Logan’s face, slowly at first and then so large he was practically radiating happiness. “I do want,” he said softly and Virgil almost melted. “I really, really do.”

“I’m glad,” Virgil said. “It would have been awkward if you didn’t.” Logan laughed.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and that would be the absolute worst outcome.”

“Virgil!” Roman screamed and ran face-first into an unprepared Virgil, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Logan coughed over a laugh and caught Patton when he attempted the same maneuver.

“Ro, kid,” Virgil groaned, “you really have to give me some warning when you do things like that.”

“I yelled your name! What more warning do you need?” Roman demanded petulantly, laying on Virgil’s legs.

“He has a point,” Logan added, face alight with mischief. Patton wriggled in his arms gleefully. “He did warn you.”

“You,” Virgil said, pointing, “are going to pay for that.” Logan scoffed and shook his head. Virgil shoved himself up to a sitting position and let Roman roll of his legs. “You’re going to get grass stains on your costume if you keep doing that.” Roman immediately popped up off the ground and took a few steps back.

“Logan!” he yelled, and then launched himself through the air like some sort of projectile. Virgil watched in slow-motion as Logan, already unbalanced from holding Patton, got his legs taken out from under him and crashed to the ground. Virgil was happy to note the first sound he heard following the tragedy was twin giggling, and then Logan’s groaning. Nobody had died.

“Told you you’d pay,” he said, doing his best not to laugh.

“Yeah,” Logan muttered, flat on his back. “I really did.”

“Ten year olds,” Virgil said, standing to scoop Roman off of Logan’s legs. He monkey-ed around Virgil until he was firmly attached to his back.

“Ten year olds,” Logan agreed, sounding equally aggrieved. Virgil offered him a hand and pulled him up. “I believe I will have bruises to remember this night by.”

“At least you won’t forget it,” Virgil said. Logan huffed a laugh. Together they set off for Logan’s house. Mercifully, Patton didn’t feel the need to sabotage the walk, and Roman was too set on singing as many Disney songs as he could, so they made it all the way back without another incident. Roman jumped down at the gate to give Patton a hug, and Virgil looked to Logan.

“So, I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” Logan suggested. Virgil got the visceral feeling he was about to lose something important again, so instead of words he reached out and grabbed Logan’s coat and yanked him into a kiss. There was a moment of terrifying inaction, in which Virgil thought he had majorly fucked up, but then Logan moved closer and it was fine and it was good and Virgil could not have fucked this up if he’d tried.

They finally parted, Virgil too dazed to really think past what had just happened and Logan looking at Virgil with an expression he’d never seen before, and Roman said, “I thought you weren’t dating.”

“We-we aren’t,” Logan said, eyes stuck on Virgil. Then he dug through his pockets and pulled out a paper and pen and jotted something down. “But if you text me tomorrow, we can work on fixing that?” He extended the paper and it took Virgil approximately three seconds to comprehend what was happening. Then he was nodding vigorously and holding the paper like it was a check for a billion dollars.

“Yes, yeah. Yeah. I will. Text you. Text you so we can do-something. Something.” He knew he was bright red under the make up, and there was a smear of face paint on Logan’s lips, and he suddenly felt a lot like a supernova in the best way possible and not at all like he was losing anything.

“See you tomorrow,” Logan said again.

“Tomorrow,” Virgil echoed, smiling. Logan smiled back, and Virgil waited by the gate until Logan and Patton got into their house. He waved one last time before the door shut, and then he took Roman’s hand and started home.

“You like him,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m telling Dad on you,” Roman said. “You kissed him. That’s nasty.”

“You’re nasty,” Virgil shot back.

“Nuh-uh,” Roman said. “I only hugged Patton. I didn’t kiss him. You’re nasty.”

“You’re nasty,” Virgil said again.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too,” Virgil said. He smiled as Roman kept it going, and really, if the price he paid to be with Logan, to talk with Logan, to know Logan was annoying his brother, well that wasn’t much of an ask at all.

[metaphysical-human-being]

Roman

A/N: I wrote more fic because polotics and because the bees made me

Warnings: transphobia, horrible parenting, Remus being Remus, t-slur, swearing, crying, purposeful misgendering, tell me if there are more!

Ships: none

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

Roman checked his bag one more time. He needed to make sure he had everything. 

Shuffling through his bag he let out a long sigh before rushing into his bathroom. He was forgetting about toothpaste and toothbrush. 

"You sure you got everything? And you remember the code to use if it goes bad?" Jasmine, Romans best friend, said over the phone.

"Yeah, Jazz. I triple checked everything." Roman announced, placing his toothbrush in his bag along with his toothpaste. 

"Good, did you forget your sword?" Jazz asked. She knew how much he loved his sword.

"Nope! In my bag. Along with my keys, my masculine clothes, my binder -thanks for that, again. You're amazing- brush, shampoo, school stuff, my charger, toothbrush and toothpaste." He checked off. 

The girl chuckled. "Good. Can't forget that shampoo. I would let you borrow mine but my kinky ass hair shampoo is not gonna work with that white-boy hair you got." She said, smirk evident in her tone. 

"Oh ha ha," he mocked. She was always doing that but he didn't actually mind.

"Now," she got serious again. "Tell me the plan one more time."

"Okay," he took a seat on his bed. "I'mma put my stuff in my car and come out to my mom after dinner. If she reacts badly then I text you the code word-" 

"Which is?" She interrupted.

"Chicken butt. Then I drive to your house and stay at your place until my dad gets back from his trip. Then I tell him. If he reacts the same as my mom then I stay at your place. If he reacts how we think he will then I can just stay with my dad permanently. If my mom reacts well then I just stay at my place and tell my dad when he gets back." Roman explained, one more time. He knew this plan to heart, they've been planning it since he first told her when he was thirteen that he wasn't a girl. 

"Good. Good luck out there, soldier. I gotta go prepare your room in case she reacts the way we assume. Love ya, bye!" She hung up. 

Roman let out one more sigh before he heard a knock on his door. He looked up and saw his younger brother, Remus, standing there. 

"What do you want, peasant?" Roman asked, earning a glare from the younger boy. 

"Two things. One; what's that stuff on your bed? Two; dinner time." He said in his sing-song voice.

"None of your damn business and okay. I'll be down in a sec." Roman shot back. He didn't want his brother to know anything. He'd tell his mom immediately and the plan will have to happen early. 

"I would be nicer to me if I were you or I'll cut off your boobs, slice them up, bake them in a pie and feed it to you." The 12 year old hissed before flipping him the bird and running off downstairs. 

Roman grabbed his stuff and went downstairs, passed the kitchen and outside to his car. He got it from his dad when he first turned sixteen a couple months ago. It was old and not the best but it was his most prized possession for he knew that his father had been saving up the money since Roman was eight so he'd be able to have it for his sixteenth.  

Quickly, he placed his backpack in the passenger seat and briskly walked back inside. 

"Why'd you go outside?" His mother, Aleiya, asked. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised as if asking him what he was up to this time.

Roman looked down at his phone in his hand. "I just left my phone in my car." He lied through his teeth. He's gotten good at it, being an actor and all. 

His mother just gave him a slight nod before telling him to go hurry up and wash his hands. 

After a quick prayer the family started eating. Remus went on and on about his day, saying a lot of… questionable things. 

"-and I was sitting in class thinking 'hey? What would it be like if I tied up my teacher by his ankles and shove chalk so far up his a-"

"Okay! That's enough out of you." His mother pointedly stared at Remus. Remus just shrugged before going back to his food. 

"Roseanne, sweety, how was your day?" His mother asked. Roman just shrugged before shoving more food in his face. He was too busy going over all the different scenarios in his head to answer. 

"Oh! Mom! I wanted to tell you something!" Remus spoke up once more. His mother turned to her youngest child and told him to go on, although to keep it pg.

"Y'know that dick RoRo wants?I know where we can get him one. I know a guy," He said, simply. His wide, kinda-but-not-really innocent smile on his face. Absolutely no idea about what he had just done.

Romans eyes widened while his mothers darkened. 

"Remus, sweety," she asked, so sweet it was sickening. "What do you mean by that?" She asked, venom dripping in her words. Roman tensed up. 

"Y'know? The dick that Roman wants. I know where we can find one!" Remus said, pointing at Roman. 

His mother's face twisted into something down right nasty.

"Remus, sweety ...who's Roman?" She asked, glaring daggers at Roman just across the table. 

Remus giggled as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"You're looking at him, silly….oh, wait. He was gonna tell you after dinner, right? That was the plan you and Jazz band were talking about...hm, oh well." He rushed, shrugging it off as if it were that simple. Roman kinda wished it could be. 

"Anyway, can I have a worm and Beetlejuice shake for desse-"

"Rose." She said, voice hard and angry as she cut off Remus. 

"Is what Rem saying...true?" Roman just opened and closed his mouth, looking like a fish out of water.

"Is. It. True!" She yelled at him, standing up from her seat and slamming her hands down on the table. Remus flinched. Roman looked at his food.

"Yes." He murmured. That's where shit hit the fan. 

"Get out of my damn house." 

"What?" Both Roman and Remus squeaked. Remus didn't know this would happen. He….he thought he was helping. Not getting his older brother thrown out. 

"You heard me, tranny. Get out of my damn house. This ain't no pride parade. Get your shit and leave!" She spat, sitting back down and glaring at Roman.

And with a huff and a glare, Roman left the table.

Remus stared as his brother shoved back the seat and stormed out of the house, making sure to slam the door as loud as possible. 

Everything went according to plan. Roman texted Jasmine and went to her house, struggling not to cry on the drive over. The minute she opened the door he was in her arms, sobbing. She rubbed his back and told him to let it all out. 

That was the first night Remus cried himself to sleep.

- 

After a few days, Romans dad came back home. Roman texted him, asking to meet at a coffee shop so he could explain why he wasn't at his mother's. 

Remus had told him that their mother refused to even acknowledge she had another child so their dad was really confused.

"Hey, dad! Over here!" Roman called, waving to his father when he saw him enter the shop.

The man in question, Paul, walked over to the table and took a seat right across from him.

Just looking at the pair you could tell they were related. Roman got most of his looks from his dad. He got his dad's dark brown eyes with specks of gold. He also got his dad's light brown, almost blonde hair. He got his tan, sun kissed skin and his splatter of freckles. The only thing he got from his mom was his smile. 

He gave Roman a politeful hello and asked how he's been. They had a small conversation before his dad asked the big question. 

"So ..why'd your mother kick you out?" His dad asked, setting his phone down on the table. Roman took a gulp before he started to explain the events of a couple nights ago. His dad didn't say a thing while he talked. He only nodded his head and let him explain. 

"So…." His father started when Roman was all done explaining. "What I'm hearing is that whole thing when you wanted to be called Roman….that wasn't a phase?" His father asked, pressing his lips together. 

Roman nodded his head. 

"Well ...okay then. So, your name is Roman now and you're a boy?" 

"Uhm..well yeah. I mean, I guess I've always been a boy really," Roman rubbed his neck and looked down at a stain on the table. " I guess I just realised that I was one." He said, a small smile on his face as he looked back up at his dad.

"And when did you realize this?"

"Uhm, when I was thirteen, I think,"

"Geez, kid. Thirteen? That's some time.."

"Heh...yeah…"

"And that's why you've been buying all those guys clothes-"

"Yep"

"And acting more suspicious. Never letting me see your phone or anything-"

"Uh-huh"

"Wow," his father sighed. "I….I don't know what to say,"

"Look, dad," Roman started. "I know it's weird and new and stuff but I need you to know that I'm not gonna just stop being trans. This is who I am and...if you don't like it then...well then I guess you won't see me for a while." Roman said, putting on a brave face even though he was absolutely petrified. 

His father's eyes widened before he started shaking his head. "Kid! Of course you're not gonna stop and I would never make you! I….I know I'm not the most...what's the word? Uhm-"

"Educated?" Roman tried, hope blossoming in his chest. 

"Yeah. I'm not the most educated person on the planet but...you're my kid. I'm not gonna stop loving you just because the hospital got it wrong," his father smiled, tearing up a bit at the thought that his da-...son would ever think he could ever not love him.

Roman smiled from ear to ear, practically vibrating in his seat at the amount of joy he was feeling. He launched himself into his dad's arms, crying happy tears as he thanked him over and over. People in the coffee shop who had been overhearing beamed at the father and son as they both laughed and hugged. 

After Roman pulled himself together they left, both grabbing a pastry on the way out. 

-

After that Roman decided to stay with his dad for the rest of...well, as long as he stays at home. They had to get his mother's permission but all she said was;

"I don't fucking care what the hell you do with that bitch! She's not my 'son'. I had a daughter, not whatever that is. Do whatever you want with her! Throw her in a garbage can and let the rats have at her, I don't care. Now stop asking me."

Let's just say, there was no argument and Roman was legally allowed to stay with his dad full time. Soon after, though, Remus came along. He says it was because his mom became a bit bitchy and annoying after he told her he was gay, and that was a big reason but he had been planning to runaway and live with his dad ever since Romans mother kicked him out. 

Life wasn't perfect and Roman still had his days, but with the help of his dad, brother, and friends he was able to get through it. 

(He even got himself a boyfriend, but that's a story for another day)

[neuroticphysiologist]

"You'll Get There"

Finally, a new one shot I've been thinking about writing almost a month ago.

I hope you guys enjoy this. And to confirm, Alan's eighteen in this story. And I mentioned my OC again from the first Alan-centric story I wrote.

There goes my nervousness again.

More of my TAG fics are compiled into one here.

***

Things went weird for Alan Tracy when he turned twelve. Yeah, growing up is great, but it feels weird when he had to adjust to the changes. As years go by, the adolescent stage has been every person's worst years of his life.

First, he was happy with his growth spurt, but it turned into a total bummer when he reached only around five foot four. He wished that he could surpass Gordon's height, but sadly he never did. Double the bummer when he was so close to Kayo's height on one and a half inch. Height increases at a slow rate at around eighteen, so Alan guessed he might have a little chance.

Second, his change of voice was okay. He was probably the late one than his brothers when that happened, he was thirteen. He can still sing pretty good when he jams to his favorite songs; one of them is, uh, what was it? Oh, yes, Live Wire. The riff's pretty badass though.

Sometimes he hated his voice when he squeaks. "You'll get there, Alan, you'll get there," he thought to himself. "I mean Scott sounded more manly when he turned twenty-five. Probably seven or eight years more."

Third, his face. This is what he liked the most, he grew more handsome. He looked for some tips on how to maintain that. Also, his freckles were a good feature of his. And his hair, he found a style that suited him at fourteen.

Fourth, he would stand in front of a mirror to have a look at himself, and sometimes take off his shirt if he wanted to. He may look short and a bit slim but it was quite okay for him. He's comfortable with his shape and also he's a bit lazy for a workout.

Fifth, part of growing up is to experience a little of adult life. He was okay with a few sips of beer and a good wine. Whisky? Not so much. No wonder why his brothers are okay with it. And talking about girls, a wee bit of trouble for him. He felt weird about himself showing signs of infatuation to some girls in school, especially his close friend Skye. And even Kayo when he's back on the island. Now he's a bit shy talking to girls near his age sometimes. Years later and after some sex education classes, he felt more embarrassed. More about girls and their best features, and even Skye, would suddenly pop up in his mind. Playing video games helped him to keep away. One time he was close to having those kind of weird dreams about being with a girl. "This is not me," he thought. "This is so not me. Why would this happen?"

Some are all because of crazy hormones.

And yes, everything was weird.

He wanted to surpass this stage already after years of weirdness. Right now he's the only teenager of the family. And as the youngest, he felt stuck. His brothers were way protective of him, especially Scott. He's growing tired of being treated like a baby brother. He kept telling them that he can deal with the job by himself.

And when situations came in, he reflected after what he had done. His brothers were right. He never thought those situations would occur. He had to think about it more and find a way to figure out the situation. One time Scott put him in charge for a mission in Europa, with Gordon, to save the Pendergasts. It's a challenge for Alan to make decisions on his own. Because by then, he'll reach the stage of maturity. He'll get there.

Scott advised him one time.

"Just enjoy it, Alan. Enjoy it while you still have the time. Because one day you'll miss it. You'll miss being a teenager. Everything gets busier and sometimes you won't have the time to chill. You're gonna miss the old days because yeah, your brothers and I have been through that. Yeah, you're growing up, that's great. We're here to protect you because you're our little brother and we love you. It may take time to surpass the stage where you are in. It's okay, it's part of life."

Alan thought about that for a while. Yep, he always knew that his brothers were right.

[merry-kuroo]

The Last Embers- A MHA Fanfic - Chapter One

Hello. This is my first MHA fanfic and its a AU. I hope y’all like it (or not. that’s cool too.) This is based off a idea I wrote about for my Intro to Creative Writing class almost four years ago and I thought it would be cool to apply this to MHA.

Summary: Less people in the world are being born with Quirks and those that have Quirks begin to lose them between the ages of 25-30. This has caused the decline of Pro Heroes and Villains. Those that graduated from Class A at U.A. have turned 25 and are beginning to witness the decline of their Quirks. How will they cope and how will it affect their relationships? Meanwhile, Izuku searches for the next successor of One For All, even when he's told its pointless... 

Chapter One: Love Like This; Kirishima & Kaminari Part I

Chapter Summary:  Kirishima wakes up one morning to find his Quirk has disappeared.

Read it on AO3 too...There’s some notes on the AU as well.

Enjoy! The chapter is below the cut :)

December 11

The first thing Kirishima Eijirou did when he woke up was activate his Quirk. His alarm would ring incessantly, then he’d sit up straight in bed and harden his arms and hands. Almost two months after his twenty-fifth birthday he hadn’t felt any different, but he made it a point to check just in case. He was still an active Pro Hero. He joined Amajiki Tamaki’s pro hero agency, when he started it three years ago. It was in the same area as Fat Gum’s agency and Kirishima had joined eagerly, thankful to be working with his senpai.

But there was the realization that he wouldn’t be a Pro Hero for long.

Bakugou had chastised him for not opening up his own hero agency instead. There wasn’t much time left for him. So, Kirishima had planned to open up his own as soon as possible and make sure his name was known before losing his Quirk. He was thankful to be ranked number eight on Japan’s Hero Billboard Chart last year with his other classmates.

This morning, when his alarm sounded, Kirishima didn’t automatically sit up in bed. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the sound of the alarm wash over him. The sun wasn’t filtering through the window like most mornings. He felt a sense of dread. Something wasn’t right.

Kirishima sat up in bed, turned off his alarm and stared at his hands. He tried to activate his Quirk.

Nothing happened. His slightly tanned skin remained still.

He waited a couple of minutes before trying again.

Nothing.

The realization didn’t hit him all at once. He leaned back until his head touched the wooden surface of his bed’s headboard. Kirishima thought back to the first day he activated his Quirk, and how surprised he was when he realized he cut himself. He thought back to how in middle school he became inspired by the Crimson Riot and his best friend, Ashido Mina. Bakugou and Kaminari flashed in his mind, from their practical exams to enjoying their youth. He remembered the little shock Kaminari gave him when they hugged, something Kirishima hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

Kirishima didn’t notice the hot tears that streamed down his cheeks. He reached for the cellphone on his nightstand. He had a couple of messages from Seto and Ashido, but he didn’t bother checking them. He went through his contacts and dialed a number.

“Hello?” A tired voice answered.

“Hey, Amajiki-senpai. Can I talk to you for a sec? I have some bad news.”

---- --- -- December 14

They were throwing a retirement party for him. Kirishima Eijirou was twenty-five years old, number eight on the Hero’s Billboard Chart, and he was retiring at age twenty-five. Amajiki had cried when Kirishima told him the news, and told him that it was unusual for Kirishima not to notice his Quirk was disappearing.

Kirishima had heard from other Pro Heroes about how there was a steady decline of their Quirks powers until they couldn’t even activate it. Kirishima had just used his Quirk the day before it disappeared and he hadn’t noticed anything unusual about it.

Well, everyone was different. The scientists studying the decline of Quirks in the human body constantly came out with new studies about the different ways Quirk declination could occur. Recently, they said there were a few people who admitted to losing their Quirk suddenly without warning. And despite the age range being from twenty-five to thirty, there were people younger than that who had lost their Quirks.

Before the party, Kirishima went to the park near his apartment. He sat on the bench and watched a few middle schoolers play soccer. He pulled his red scarf tighter. It was cold, but Kirishima didn’t mind. He had felt numb and empty the past three days, and the bitter cold was a reminder that he was still here.

Kirishima felt weird being out in public and no one recognized him. He returned his hair back to its natural state, black. It was no longer spiked up, instead falling to his shoulders. He wondered if Amajiki would recognize him when he arrived.

After telling Amajiki about the loss of his Quirk, Kirishima cried. It wasn’t manly at all, but he felt that he had the right to mourn his Pro Hero career and his Quirk. All his life Kirishima knew that he would lose his Quirk, but nothing could prepare for the moment it actually happened. Kirishima had come up with a weird analogy for it back in high school.

It was like death. Everyone dies and everyone knows that it will happen.

Then the person you love, your classmate, your parents die. You know it's going to happen and you’re not prepared? Why isn’t anyone actually prepared for when it happens? Is it just the shock when it happens unexpectedly? Maybe if everyone knew the date and time they would lose their Quirk or when a loved one died then the shock would disappear then.

Kaminari liked his analogy while Bakugou claimed he was thinking too much into it.  Kirishima noticed that Bakugou had looked bothered by it, but he never said anything to him about it.

Well, now was as good a time as any to tell his friends that he lost his Quirk. He was the second person in their class to lose it. Kirishima sent a text via group message about how he lost his quirk and that he was on the way to his retirement party.  And to make the mood light, he added a lot of “lol” and “lmao” (with extra o’s). He didn’t want to see everyone’s reactions just yet, so he put his phone on silent.

---- -- ---- Thirty minutes later, Kirishima arrived at Amajiki’s Pro Hero Agency. He poked his head in and found that no one was at the front. In fact, the agency was completely dark. “Hello? Anyone here?”

No answer. Kirishima assumed the party would be held in the meeting room. He walked to the meeting room, which was in the back of the agency. He knocked on the door but didn’t hear anything. Kirishima opened the door and jumped when two confetti poppers went off in his face.

“Surprise, Kirishima!” Ashido screamed.

The lights turned on and Kirishima’s UA classmates, Amajiki, the receptionists and interns were clapping for him. There were streamers and balloons around the room, and a three tiered chocolate cake was in the center of the room.

“Everyone!” Kirishima cried. He hated to be crying again, but he was so happy. “I just sent that message--How did you get here so fast?”

“Dumbass,” Bakugou said as he approached him. Izuku trailed along.

“Amajiki-senpai gave us a call. He wanted to surprise you and asked us to keep it a secret that we knew.” Izuku exclaimed.

“Do you know how surprised we were when we got that long message from you?” Uraraka laughed. “We were here setting up the whole time.”

“Sorry about that, Kirishima,” Amajiki said. “I thought you might want to see your friends.”

“No, thank you! Thank you very much!” Kirishima cried. “I’m so happy right now.”

“Speech! Speech!” Ashido called.

Everyone stood around Kirishima, waiting for him to make a speech. Kirishima hadn’t even thought about making a speech. What was one supposed to say when they lost their Quirk anyway?

“Uh,” Kirishima began. “First, thanks for coming out. I know how busy you must be.” Kirishima’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Kaminari.

He wasn’t there.

“It was a quite a shock to wake up a few days ago and find that my Quirk no longer worked. But even so, I’m thankful for my time at U.A. and the wonderful friends I made along the way. I was a Pro Hero for seven years. I accomplished my dream. Thank you for coming out today!”

Everyone clapped, then Kirishima was pulled into a multiple group hugs. Momo gave him a bouquet and Iida gave a small speech as well about how proud he was to be Kirishima’s classmate and friend. He talked to Todoroki, Izuku, Hagakure about their work. Sero and Tokoyami had given him some expensive wine.

The party was not as bad as Kirishima thought. A few of the interns cried and asked for pictures and autographs. It was the last time Kirishima would be the Red Riot, so he obliged. The chocolate cake Amajiki ordered was fantastic, and he was on his third slice when he noticed Bakugou leaning up against the wall by himself.

“Always the loner, huh?” Kirishima asked as he sauntered up to him.

“Shut up,” Bakugou said. It was light hearted. He lightly punched Kirishima in the arm. Both of them leaned against the wall and watched the party goers. “So, tell the truth.”

“Truth about what?”

“About losing your Quirk. How do you really feel?” There it was. A rare time where Bakugou was showing his true feelings. He had mellowed out slightly ever since graduation. He still wouldn’t hesitate to call someone a dumbass or yell at them, but it wasn’t as often. It still took Kirishima by surprise when he asked him about his feelings. The last time he did that was when Kaminari had left town three years ago.

“Honestly, it really sucks. I wish I had just a few more years. I think everyone at least wants to keep their Quirk until their thirty, but that isn’t the case for everyone. I’m glad I was born with a Quirk, but now I feel like I lost an important part of myself.” Kirishima picked up a piece of chocolate and plopped it into his mouth. “So, now I just need to readjust.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I still want to save people. The fire department is having training sessions and classes. It’s still a hero type job,” Kirishima explained. He studied Bakugou’s expression. He seemed...solemn.

“Hey, is something--” Kirishima was cut off by Ashido yelling at him.

“Come on. We’re going to take a class picture!”

“What? But Jirou, and Kaminari aren’t here!” Kirishima protested.

“It’s fine. This isn’t the last time we’re going to meet up anyway. Come on!”

After taking pictures, eating more food, and playing a lively game of charades, the party ended. Kirishima bid goodbye to his classmates and they promised to meet again soon. He wished he could spend more time with them, but they still had to work, and many of them didn’t live in the city anymore. Bakugou told him that when Kaminari was back in the city, the three of them would go get drinks. Kirishima didn’t even have the heart to respond, opting to wave goodbye to his best friend.

“You don’t have to stay behind and help me clean,” Amajiki said as he folded a table cloth.

“No, it’s fine. Consider it my last job at the agency,” Kirishima laughed soundlessly.

“Hey,” Amajiki said. “Thank you, Red Riot. For everything.”

Before he could respond or burst into tears again, the door to the meeting room squeaked open. “Hello?” A singsong voice called out.

“Jirou! And Kaminari!” Kirishima exclaimed as his two former classmates walked in. Kirishima’s pulse jumped when he took in Kaminari. It had been three years since he had last seen him. His blond hair was now cut short, making him look more mature. He had grown taller and more muscular too. Kirishima stared at his left arm where dark ink sat on his skin. “What are you doing here?”

“We got Amajiki-senpai’s message about your retirement party! There was an issue with the shop, then our train was delayed. Wait, did we miss it?” Jirou asked, observing the other workers folding up the tables.

“Yeah, everyone left a while ago. I was helping clean up,” Kirishima answered.

There was a silence between the three of them. Kirishima felt tense and Kaminari wasn’t looking at him. Jirou looked back and forth between them, then she sighed.

“So, um, I’m going to help Amajiki-senpai clean up. You two should go catch up,” Jirou said. “Kirishima, your favorite cafe is right down the street, right? Kaminari told me about it.”

Kaminari blushed. “I didn’t say it was his favorite. We only ate there a couple of times.” Then Kaminari faced Kirishima. “But sure. We can go eat. My treat.”

“Sure.” Kirishima didn’t sound excited, but his heart was pounding heavily. How could he want Kaminari with him and also want him to be far away? Things were easier with Kaminari far away from him. The longing for him had become manageable over the past three years. Now, everything was back to zero.

Kirishima bid goodbye to Amajiki, and they shared one last brotherly hug. An intern gave Kirishima a box of the leftover chocolate cake and wished him luck in his future endeavors. Jirou hugged Kirishima, and he tensed up. She didn’t seem to notice. She congratulated him and told him that they would catch up soon.

“Hey, Kaminari, I’m going to find a hotel for us to stay at,” Jirou said.

“Okay, just text it to me,” Kaminari answered. He was already heading towards the door. Kirishima followed after him.

The two men made it outside. Kirishima shivered at the cold wind whipping his body. Kaminari held his hand out as tiny flecks of snow began to fall. Kaminari turned to him.

“Can we talk?” Kaminari said.

“Three years have gone by. Now, you want to talk,” Kirishima responded. He was being harsh, but he didn’t care right now.

“I know and I’m sorry. I got that message from you and--” Kaminari shook his head. “No. Let’s talk at the cafe. Remember? They have really good curry too.” Without waiting for a response, Kaminari headed towards the cafe.

And just like before, without hesitation, Kirishima followed after him.

[starksnack]

My best bab @withstarryeyes and I did a fic swap. She wrote the dialogue and I based a story around it. Hope you like it C!! Thanks to @wing-heads for the beta

Starting Over From The End // Stony // 2k //TW: Bullying, Blood mentions, vague mentions to past homophobia // Read it on AO3

Tony Stark was not new to the ‘getting the shit kicked out of him’ club. He lay on the sticky tile by his locker, praying for death and cheeseburgers as Justin Hammer introduced his fancy Louboutin sneakers to Tony’s million-dollar smile. It was just another Thursday he decided as the fluorescent lights blinked in and out of his vision.

“Dude, what the fuck? Get away from him.”

And there was Captain Perfect Ass here to save the day with his earnest blue eyes and coconut-sized biceps. With hair spun of gold like Midas had felt his head up, Steve Rogers yanked Hammer away from Tony, dark brows pulled over his stormy eyes.

“It’s fine!” Tony rolled his eyes, flopping onto his front to push himself up. If Hammer didn’t beat the crap out of him now, he would just come by and do it later. Tony didn’t have time in his plans to reschedule his weekly bullying. There were no fucks left to give. “Just leave it.”

Hammer was just upset that Howard had recently scored a military contract for Stark Enterprises that Hammer Industries had been gunning for. He’d probably get over it within the week and find something else to beat Tony up for. It was a dance that Tony had long since gotten used to considering Hammer’s parents could pay off the school, and Howard didn’t care enough to get involved in Tony’s life.

“You heard the nerd,” Hammer sneered, brave enough to go toe to toe with an absolute unit like Steve. Even Tony didn’t have the balls to face the peak of male perfection. “Just leave it.”

But of course, Mr. Big Blond and Busty refused to relocate himself and his massive rack. Tony sighed, pulling himself to his feet just as Steve was pointedly saying, “I will not just leave it, move away before I make you.”

Wrong thing to say. Tony leaned against his locker, recognizing the fury in Steve’s eyes. He’d had that look directed at him once upon a time. He grabbed his mechanical physics textbook out of his locker, slamming the door shut with a resounding crack that had both Steve and Hammer looking up.

Quick to get back to intimidation mode, Hammer balled his hands into fists, thumb on the inside. Maybe those weak punches would work on a runt like Tony but on someone as bulky as Steve? Hammer was about to end up in the ER with broken bones and split knuckles. Karma was a bitch.

“You’re gonna make me leave?” He taunted before turning and thumping Tony in the chest in what looked passably amicable. “We’re friends, right nerd?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, pain pulling at his abdomen. He was sure to have a painting of purpling bruises across his pale skin tonight, but he didn’t need Steve fighting his battles for him. They hadn’t been on the same side for a long time. “Right.”

Steve, always quick to be the righteous asshole in the room, planted himself like a tree and stood his ground. “I said leave.”

“Fine.” Hammer rolled his eyes, shooting Tony a dirty look that promised more pain later. Great, maybe Bruce would let him hide out in the supply closet he used as a panic room for the rest of the week. Tony blew Hammer a sarcastic kiss as the asshole left with a “bye, dweebs.”

Steve turned to watch him go and Tony took that as a cue to turn the corner while he was distracted and sprint down the hall. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Steve Rogers, the asshole that broke his heart just as senior year was starting. They were so close to graduating and then Tony could avoid his perfect pale ass like nobody’s business from the comfort of his dorm room at MIT.

The squeaking of shoes down the hall told Tony that Steve was in hot pursuit, but like a gazelle fearing for its life and delicate feelings, Tony sprinted down the hall fearing for his life and delicate feelings. He turned a corner into the stairwell, headed to the parking lot where his car was haphazardly parked in the back of the lot.

Shit, the exterior door was locked. It was part of Principal Fury’s new initiative to cut down on smoking. What a Debbie Downer. Tony thumped his head against the metal door as Steve slowed to a stop beside him.

Double shit. The stairwell was empty. If Steve really were here to break his heart a second time, there would be no one to hear Tony’s screams as he died of embarrassment. It was probably for the best, he was told his screams resembled that of a dying bus fighting a chain-smoking leaf blower.

“Are you hurt?” Concern was not what he expected, but it was better than an all-out yelling match. Tony took a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing as he really thought about if he was hurt or not.

There was a lot to be hurt about. Justin Hammer using him as a punching bag, Steve breaking his heart eight months ago, the impending end of life on earth as they marched closer to oblivion. Tony shrugged. It could be worse, at least he was here, in high school. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Alright, well,” Steve scratched the back of his neck, a hopeful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Tony immediately beat down the butterflies fluttering in his rib cage with a bug zapper. “I have to meet Nat. Would you like to join?”

“Uh… no.” Nat was one of the friends Tony convinced himself he didn’t want to keep in touch with after Steve left him in the dust to pursue popularity and football. Tony didn’t want to be tempted to ask their mutual friends about how Steve was doing so the only person he didn’t push away, on pain of death, was his science bro, Brucie-bear. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. But would you tell her I said hi?”

“No,” Steve said firmly and Tony resisted the urge to flinch back. With a firm hand around his wrist, Steve led him out of the stairwell and further away from freedom. Tony resisted the urge to let out a sad sigh. “But if you come with, you can tell her yourself.”

Tony frowned. This almost seemed like an olive branch. He wiped his wet mouth, feeling a twinge of pain as his fingers came away bloody. He had to look like an absolute mess. “I can’t stay long.”

“Didn’t expect you to.” Steve smiled, blue eyes bright as the sky and deep as the ocean as he passed a glance down Tony’s body. It wasn’t the kind of checking out that Tony wanted though. Steve was looking for injuries. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

“It’s not anything I can’t handle,” Tony shrugged. He passed a hand across his stomach without wincing. He deserved an Oscar for that alone, Hammer was brutal when he was jealous.

“If I take you to meet Nat and you’re bleeding like that she’s gonna think I caused it.” Steve eyed Tony’s split lip pointedly, digging a tissue out of his bookbag. “Can I?”

Wiping blood off his lip was a surprisingly intimate move. Wasn’t Steve worried he would catch cooties or some immature bullshit like that? Tony hesitated, waiting for the punchline. “...Alright?”

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you?” Steve had an earnest expression written across his features, so Tony decided that maybe his ex-best friend wasn’t out to get him today.

“Sure.” Tony sat down at a bench by the bathrooms and Steve sat beside him. He was silent as Steve carefully wiped the blood off his chin, focused in a way Tony had never seen him before.

Without warning, Steve grabbed the hem of his shirt and before Tony could stop him, his AC/DC graphic tee was being lifted to expose his bruised midsection. Steve made an angry noise, almost like a growl, in the back of his throat as he splayed a hand across the hard ridges of Tony’s stomach. “Who was that guy?”

Tony ignored the way Steve was feeling him up, too tired to fight and make a sexual innuendo that would surely have Steve running for the hills. “Didn’t you hear him? A friend.”

Steve’s brows were pulled together, blue eyes almost black with fury as he fixed Tony with a hard glare. “He’s not your friend.”

“No shit…” Tony rolled his eyes, painfully yanking his shirt away from Steve’s grip. He stood up before Steve could reach for him again. “But he’s not much of a bother. I mean, he’s not usually that bad.”

Steve rose to his feet, heading down the hall. He got a couple of steps away, before turning and gesturing for Tony to follow. With nothing better to do, Tony complied, running down the hallway to catch up. Steve’s voice was dark as he asked, “What’s he usually like? Too dumb to hit a moving object?”

“Nah,” Tony shrugged nonchalantly as Steve pulled open the door to the Sports Med room. “Just too large to catch me.”

Steve nodded, grabbing a plastic bag off a shelf and filling it with ice. Dispensing a handful of paper towels, Steve held it to Tony’s stomach, careful not to press too hard and hurt Tony further. They sat together in the comfortable silence of the classroom, looking out the window together at the cars in the parking lot.

Steve smelled the same as always, like Irish soap, bike polish, and the American dream. Sitting in the empty class with him, Tony was reminded of that time they hid in an empty classroom for hours, hiding from their friends and an aggressive game of Would You Rather? They had spent hours sitting together, talking about nothing. The sports on tv, the recent bumfuck election, their futures.

Clearly, Steve’s mind was on the same train of thought because mumbled words were falling past his lips, almost too scared to break the comfortable silence. “I... don’t you miss this?”

“What, getting beat up?” Tony asked sarcastically. Steve was the one who threw their friendship away. All because he got beefy and decided he was too good to hang out with a fairy like Tony.

“No..” Steve’s perfect brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to get all his thoughts together. Tony knew the feeling. “Us getting along. Not having it be so hard all the time to just…”

“Get ourselves into trouble?” Tony suggested, just to be an insufferable asshole. It was nothing compared to how shitty Steve had made him feel.

“Forget it,” Steve sighed, frustrated as he looked toward the door.

“No!” Tony could swallow his pride enough to admit he missed Steve. Missed their late-night adventures in the woods, missed skinny dipping at the community center after hours, missed pizza picnics in the park and truth or dare, and sharing cotton candy at Coney Island. He missed Steve so fucking much it hurt. “I mean, uh, yeah; I miss this. A lot.”

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Steve’s voice was quiet, tentative in a way that Tony had never heard as he looked up at Tony with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Is that an apology?” As far as apologies went, Steve honestly could have done a little bit better. Though Tony had already forgiven him. Probably since the moment he stepped up and stood up for him against Hammer.

“No,” Steve stumbled over his words, an admittedly adorable blush spreading across his face as he looked up at Tony through dark blond lashes. “I mean kinda. But there’ll be more.”

Tony grinned at Steve, bright as the sun, heart swelling as Steve hesitated before smiling back at him, just as happy.

“It means… maybe I’m willing to see what the apology is.”

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Cup of Coffee - Chapter 01

Author’s Comments: Hello, darlings! My, my, it has been quite the time, hasn't it? For those of you who are knew to my account and didn't know me from my old days, I used to be a big fan of an old show called Dude That's My Ghost. It was by no means a great show, but it was fun to watch. 

A few years ago I wrote a story - this story in fact - for the fandom. It was meant to be a collaborative effort among everyone with myself as the one writing it, but, well... Complications arose. I abandoned the story and the fandom for quite the time, but this story has never left my mind. It was my story, after all, no matter what they say. This story was one I wrote, that I planned, that I made, in the end. The idea, perhaps, did not start with me, but this story will always belong to me.

So, after much thought and debate, I've decided that it's time to polish this story off, give it a little fixing, and tell it like it should have been told to begin with.

A couple things to get out of the way for those who remember the original story:     This no longer takes place in the 80s; because that was a stupid idea.     This is set in California (as in the show) and not New York because that idea was even stupider.     Billy and Spencer are in no way related (to be honest not even the show wrote them like they were 'distant cousins' and I didn't even remember they were supposed to be related until just this moment).     There are no ghosts, Billy is quite alive, and all characters are over twenty years of age.  

With all that out of the way... I think it's time we finished this. 

If you find yourself enjoying the story, then check out my Writing Commissions! If you have a story idea you want to read but don’t want to write, then you’ll find I have just the solution in mind - or multiple, depending on how long you want your story!

Fandom: Dude That’s My Ghost 

Relationship: Billy Joe Cobra/Spencer Wright

Rating: Teen Audiences

Summary: “Yo.” The man looked like he had just pulled off three all-nighters in a row and Spencer had to wonder if this was an intern run ragged or a college student trying to cram in a summer semester. Either way, it was little wonder as to how he had ended up in a coffee shop at six in the morning. “Venti with one pump caramel, one pump white mocha, two scoops vanilla bean powder, two shots espresso, and apagotto style. Oh, yeah, and caramel drizzle under and on top of the whipped cream.”

Hand half hovering over where he had been about to type in the order, Spencer instead let slip an ugly snort and decided that this guy was either crazy or he himself was being punked. “Dude, are you trying to order coffee or are you a witch trying to tell me how to make a potion?” 

The man’s sunglasses slipped down to show incredulous eyes that were the color of honey, Shanilla made a squeak like she had just seen God, and Spencer realized that it was probably a bad thing to insult customers. 

It wasn’t until later that he realized he had insulted the infamous rockstar that was Billy Joe Cobra of all people.

                                    Archive Of Our Own Link

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                                             Chapter One

“No matter how I look at it, this is a terrible idea.” And yet, his traitorous mind whispered to him with a voice that sounded like Billy’s, that’s what makes it such a great idea.

Spencer Wright traced over the weathered plastic of his truly ancient video camera, stickers covering the surface and hiding enough cracks to prove the camera should have stopped working a long, long time ago. It was years out of date, held together by no more than horror movie themed stickers and a prayer, and should have been tossed out months if not years ago. 

There was no easy way to connect it to his computer, but for what he was about to do, Spencer figured that he only needed his table, a tripod, and the camera itself. It was easy, too, with how long he had been working with camera equipment; over a decade in his twenty-three years of living. 

“Here we go,” Spencer said softly, smiling as he saw the red light flick on to show the camera was recording. The difference between every other moment before, however, was that the lens was pointed at him. “Alright, then. I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to say ‘action’ and all that, huh?”

The camera was a nonjudgmental audience, recording him impartially and leaving the fate of the recording in his hands and his hands alone. It was as comforting as it was nerve wracking. 

“Right. My name is Spencer Wright and I’m a twenty-three-year-old film student who’s studying to become a movie director - specifically for horror movies!” The red light remained on and Spencer knew what he would see if he were to look at the other side of the camera screen.

He would see his hair, a weird light brown and tangled to hell and back, a couple of sun freckles from living in a place like California, and boring brown eyes that were avoiding looking directly into the camera. Really, it wasn’t his fault that he did better behind the camera than in front of one. 

“This is entry one of my video journal series that I’ve been bullied into doing because apparently writing in an actual journal is too cliché for even me.” Spencer stifled a laugh at remembering the conversation that had led to him being tucked away in the room he had taken over for his video equipment, computer screens stretched out on the table in front of him and wires leading every which way. 

It was a stark contrast compared to the little camera in front of him that was worn down, beaten, and had only cost him a couple hundred when he was in his teens and knew what he wanted to do with his life. 

“The date is, uh… September?” Spencer looked around for a moment before grimacing as he patted at his empty pockets. “Okay, phone is, uh, somewhere, so it’s definitely just September 2019, for the moment. Uh… It’s a Monday? So that’s something, I guess.” 

Tapping his foot for a moment, Spencer sighed as he rubbed at the back of his neck, looking around the dull, neutral colors of the room before his gaze trailed back to the red light. He really wasn’t cut out for being on camera.

“So, like I said, I was bullied into doing this. One of my best friends, Shanilla, she said that I needed a way to ‘express my feelings and experience emotional relief.’” Spencer made sure to include the quotation marks, staring right into the camera. “And when you inevitably sneak into my studio and watch this, Shanilla, I am telling you right now that I am not emotionally repressed or scared of being vulnerable or whatever else you’ll try to repeat from your latest psychology class.”

Spencer gave the camera one more glare before smirking. “And Rajeev, when you help your sister sneak in to watch this, know that I have blackmail on you from our psychology class that we took together. You know exactly what it is, too, so I suggest you stop this video now.” Letting his thoughts drift for a minute, Spencer tapped his foot again and pushed out a dramatic sigh.

“As for you, Billy.” Spencer looked at the camera, thinking up a million threats before he rolled his eyes. “Who am I kidding? You’ll watch this no matter what I threaten. Fine, then, but don’t be shocked by whatever ends up in these videos because I warned you. This? Right here? This is a warning.” 

Spencer could already hear Billy’s wild laughter and teasing, and he was smiling before he could stop himself, looking at the ground to hide it as if Billy really was in front of him and teasing him with that almost crooked smile of his. 

“To anyone watching these videos who aren’t my horrible friends, then, like I said, this is Shanilla’s fault and, by extension, Billy’s fault. When Shanilla said these videos would be great proof of my ‘humble beginnings’ for when I become a famous director, Billy jumped on board. Trust me when I say you can’t fight against both of them when they team up. It just doesn’t work. At all. 

“So, since I’m stuck doing these, I might as well practice getting better at talking to an ‘audience’ anyways, right?” Spencer gave a rueful smile, almost imagining that he could see the reflection of himself in the lens of the camera. Actually, he might have been able to. “I’ve already mentioned that I’m working on becoming a movie director and, as of now, I’m going into my last year of college needed to get my film degree.”

Pausing for a moment, Spencer thought about the fact that one day these videos might really be seen by people who would one day love his work. It couldn’t hurt to share a little more, in that case. “Right now, I live in California. I don’t live in Hollywood exactly, or, uh, at least, I didn’t. I used to live about an hour outside of it and back then, last year’s summer, actually, I was working two jobs to try and save up some more ,money for college. I was also rooming with my friends, Rajeev and Shanilla, at the time.”

That summer had only been a year ago, but it felt as if it had all happened so long ago. Fall was well underway, he was in the middle of his classes, and that summer, as with all summers, felt like it was both a second ago and forever ago in the way summer always felt like it was too quick and too distant. 

“I worked mornings and afternoons in a coffee shop, and I worked nights and sometimes evenings in a late-night diner that was one of those retro places that should have gone out of business in the fifties. The coffee shop is actually where I met Billy,” Spencer laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away for a moment, knowing his face was disgustingly fond even as he tried to hide it.

He could picture the answering smile from Billy himself and how the man would have no doubt wrapped around him and cooed over how ‘cute’ he was being. Getting himself back together, Spencer gave his best grin towards the camera. 

“In case you don’t know if you’re watching this in the future, the Billy that I’m talking about is Billy Joe Cobra. Yeah, that Billy. He’s twenty-eight, at the height of his career, and just had one of his songs break the record for the longest time spent in the number one spot and aw, jeez, I’m starting to sound like a fan, aren’t I? The funny thing is, I had barely even heard of Billy Joe Cobra when I first met him.” 

Spinning in his chair side to side for a few moments, Spencer thought back to that morning in the coffee shop. He had been exhausted, irritable, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner and sleep for a few centuries. Shanilla had worked in the same coffee shop with him and she had been the one to first point out just who had walked into their store. 

Spencer hadn’t known a thing about who he was, though, beyond a vague recognition, and Billy, back then, didn’t know what to do with someone who wasn’t tripping over themselves to get his autograph. It had been interesting and confusing for both of them, but, well, it had been the morning to start it all. 

“Since Shanilla said I should tell stories about my life and all that, I guess I can tell the one story that made my life interesting for a while.” Spencer spun around in his chair before slapping his hands on the desk to stop himself, laughing when his ancient camera wobbled before holding steady. “Let me just start this off by saying that Billy Joe Cobra is not a morning person.”