#and then on my second turn my left foot caught on the brake cuz i didn’t lift it quite high enough and i lost my balance and like

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

fell on my face rollerblading and now i’ve got a sweet ass scar above my left eyebrow where my glasses bit me 😎

[blushing-starker]

Having a boyfriend that's a natural rule breaker becomes even more tedious because now it's two people conspiring together, itching to shatter social norms. Sure, they won't pull the fire alarm stunt to get out of a quiz (that's more Rocket and Groot's style), place mirrors on front steps to confuse Fury and nearly give the principal a heart attack (Loki with an exasperated Thor and cackling Hela) or hire a mariachi band to follow hall monitor Alexander Pierce (Steve had joined Bucky and Sam in that one); they'd never sneak into the air vents, fill them with glitter so the haughty board of directors would be covered in pink sparkles when they cranked the ac (Clint and Nat).

Ok, they did help with that last one, buying the shimmering stuff from T'Challa's sister and slipping five jars into Clint's backpack, but they didn't actually go into the vents.

But that's not the point. The point is there are limits to their rule breaking; Tony's spot on the football team and Peter's participation in the art club too important to risk on something as silly as skipping a quiz. No, they thanked their best friends, unhooked the window lock and slithered out only after finishing and handing in the quiz. They weren't amateurs.

Still, Peter knows Tony literally couldn't have chosen a worse time for their impromptu lunch date. (Luckily, he'd expected this exact situation.)

"Tony, they don't even have bad food today. We could just wait until the bell rang to meet up and eat at the bleachers. Like we always do a day before a big game."

His boyfriend swivels around, hooks nimble fingers into his belt loops to pull Peter closer, never once stumbling even while walking backwards. The grin he shows is manic, just this side of wild to let Peter know this isn't about haunting nightmares and bouts of anxiety. This is normal, too high on a feeling Tony Stark. Which means he won't head back to school unless Peter pulls out all the stops...

He's too exhausted from last night's art project to use up energy on the puppy eyes. So he sighs, tugs on the blue varsity jacket Tony loves to show off, kisses a dimple before turning this untamed creature around.

"Come on, I found a new route to that shawarma place with MJ and Ned last week." It sounds exasperated, but Tony knows Peter will do anything to keep him happy. Well. Not anything. There's only so many times they can discuss Star Wars before simply agreeing to disagree on whether Han and Luke are pan or bi.

"What, and you tell me this now?", Tony squawks indignantly from Peter's left side, freezing nose nuzzling into Peter's neck as revenge.

Like a robber caught sneaking into a vault, he raises his hands instantly before shoving Tony away.

"Hey, you were focusing on practice! If I told you, you'd bring Rhodey, he'd bring T'Challa and then Shuri would pop up and who goes where she goes? Bucky, which means Steve and Sam, who'd already be there thanks to Rhodey and of course Clint would somehow appear with Nat. We'd be together so Ned and MJ are gonna be teasing with Betty and half the guys in our grade have a crush on Nat, or MJ or Shuri or Betty or you. So what's the end result? The entire football, soccer, basketball and swim team eating shawarma a week before the games. I am not hearing Coach Coulson scold me for you guys breaking diet again. I'm already on his list, another situation like that and I'll have to run fifteen laps around the field."

"Oh come on, you can do those in your sleep." He could, but again, not the point.

"With a weighted backpack, Tony."

"Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want that."

"Before cycling fifteen laps and then swimming fifteen laps."

"Jesus, why would he even do that?" Tony looks at him then, disgruntled at the thought of his boyfriend doing all that.

He shrugs, doesn't want to explain Peter had done it once when it all got too much and he'd needed to release the pent up energy. He hadn't noticed Coach watching him, ready to come help if he hurt himself. They'd talk afterwards, Coulson making him promise to never do that alone. Now it became a reward and a punishment. Peter won the art contest? Fifteen everything to focus his mind and not go jumping off walls in his excitement.

His students wolfing down a thousand calories before a game? Fifteen everything so Peter would at least "time it so it's not during the season, Jesus". To be fair to Peter, Tony participated in almost all the sports teams so scheduling was hard.

"Listen, just don't eat a whole animal, ok? We can split it, eat enough," he glares at Tony, pushing through even as the puppy eyes come out, "and then head to the movies. They're showing Aliens for a few days cuz of Halloween and I already texted the guys to come during lunch."

His boyfriend, smart and sharp and witty, just blinks at him. "But we have class after lunch."

"Technically, but I convinced Mr Pym to let the class out of lab so we could all hang out. It's the one class we share so now the whole group can see it together."

Tony stops, eyes wide and mouth open.

"You, what, planned this?"

"Yeah, something fun before tomorrow to take it off your mind for a while. Or, you know, not make it stand out as much. I know how focused you get, and it's really great, having that as a goal, strategizing and taking it seriously. But I also know it can be a lot, so I thought we should all hang out since each of us has something coming up and we aren't spending much time together. Which I get, responsibilities and family and school; I just missed it and I can't be the only one, right? So yeah, this was planned. Like, two weeks ago. When MJ found the new route, it was like a sign. And I really want you to relax and enjoy the whole, I have friends that care for me and a boyfriend that loves-"

He slaps a hand on his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and cheeks flaming. Tony and Peter stand immobile, the world reduced to beat up sneakers breaking the simplicity of yellow lines on black, a flickering neon sign telling them the shawarma place is open and two hearts slowly starting to beat again after that confession.

Ned would say it's romantic. MJ would bluntly remind them it's a bad idea to stand in the middle of the road even if they're saying I love you. And with good reason, since there's the telltale roar of a car bursting with teenagers, voices howling out the lyrics to an AC/DC song. And of course Peter notices the noise of rubber swerving against gravel, the screeching of old brakes and a few terrified shrieks harmonizing with a sharp wind blasting into him out of nowhere. Before he can react, Tony is there, wrapping his arms around Peter and shoving them both into the little patch of grass that grows from a crack in dirty pavement.

There's a moment where his whole world flips, tumbles until he screws his eyes shut and prepare himself for whatever the fuck caused that noise. But nothing comes. Only a sigh blowing a stray curl away from his forehead. But a sigh? Why would?

Tony.

He gasps, jolts upright and apologizes when that just serves to jostle his boyfriend further into the ground. His boyfriend who'd flip them so Peter wouldn't be hurt. Tony is peering at him through half shut eyes, discomfort clear on the grimace he tried to transform into a sheepish grin.

"So, you love me, huh?"

It's the stupidest thing Tony Stark has ever said.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, you could have shattered a wrist, dislocated a shoulder, torn an ACL, bent a leg-"

"This is not what I expected. Also it was a three foot leap forward on grass, I'm fine, Peter."

"Or bashed your head, or busted an arm and then what would you do for the game tomorrow? Who the hell does that?"

"The guy you love, apparently."

"That's not the point, Tony, that's unimportant because you nearly got hurt. Christ, Coulson will slaughter me if there's a scratch on you, and then your mom would be sad and I'd be sad because, what would I do without you? And don't you ever do that again, I can't take it. I am not losing you, Tony. God, why would you do that, risk so much on-"

"On you? Babe, I'd do it again. Ok, not the right thing to say based on the whole face thing you got going on right now. But just hear me out. Don't, stop hitting me, ow, why are you hitting, how are you this strong, Jesus. Ow, stop it. Peter, for fuck's sakes, I love you, you animal. Now please let go of the jacket, it'll get wrinkles."

His hands unclasp the soft cotton, Tony falling back with a groan and Peter's unhinged jaw snapping shut after fifteen seconds of letting the flies in.

It's a wonderful thing, hearing the guy he's loved for so long say it back, say he loves Peter.

It's also fucking stupid since there's even more reason to not do stunts like that.

"You're an idiot. I'm in love with a guy that has one shared brain cell with Steve. You could have been hurt, Tony. And what would that have done, huh?"

His boyfriend sighs yet again, wraps an arm around Peter to push them from the ground and heads to the car where their friends are gawking. He waves them off, offers a "Yeah, I know I'm amazing, no, I didn't break anything, T'challa, yes, I can play, Jesus, Rogers, I can read you like a book. I appreciate the worry, Bruce; Nat, thanks for calming him down. Rhodes, excellent driving. No need to hog the seats, Sam, we need to settle in. Peter, you can keep cursing me out if you, yeah, see how it's nice being fun size when you fit in my lap in a car full of people. What, I'm not walking after that, I don't care if it's til we reach the parking. Let's go, Rhodes. Pepper, I'm fine. "

Clint offers a high five. Tony responds and that's that. Out of sight, Ned gives him a fist bump and MJ keeps on reading her book. It could just be his imagination, but Tony's sure she's smiling, approval clear on her face. He preens, glad to have her blessing, and settles his head on Peter's fluffy hair.

-----

When they're all laughing in a booth, smashed together and picking food off of everyone's plate, Peter nuzzles the crook of his neck, holds his hand and squeezes it. Tony smiles, lights up and shoves at Sam's face when the trio of best friends tease him for puffing his chest out when his boyfriend ever so softly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too." The table whoops and calls for another round of food and Coca-Cola, their family grinning at them and fondly teasing the new couple. Tony grins back, high on this feeling of warmth and happiness and safety and love.

And then Peter presses ice cold lips onto his neck and he lets out a shout, pain coursing through him when a knee slams into the table. His eyes water and through the haze of agony he sees their friends exchanging cash, some grumbling and others smirking. Rhodey and MJ, he notes, are the ones that win the most. They high five before pocketing the cash and ordering dessert.

Peter kisses his cheek, smile innocent and eyes wicked. It's his own fault Tony snatches an ice cube and slips it below his Nirvana shirt. He only has five seconds to lord his victory over Peter before there's ice cream being smeared on his cheek. They battle then, accidentally sending food into Wanda's lap, Clint's hair and Bucky's face.

In less than a minute they are all covered in shawarma and participating in the fight. Peter shrieks when Tony pulls him into his lap, gets chicken on the varsity jacket and tries to wriggle away. But Tony kisses him, tastes ice cream and joy, thanks whoever decided to give him a break and find this incredible person dozing on the roof of the school with Ned and MJ one spring afternoon. Peter kisses back and, at the same time, they say, confidently, honestly,

"I love you."

This is dedicated to @drarryismyshit07

[staycatcher]

Cursed 001

Member: Kim Seungmin x Femme Reader (she/her) (Jisung is also in this, we love wingpeople)

Au: (Dorky/Pure) Frat Boy! Seungmin x Baddie! Reader + Unexpected Soulmate AU [in the same universe as Anguish, no need to read it though!]

Genre: Crack, Angst, Fluff? (she’s all over the place, partner🤠)

Rated 14? for too much swearing, kind-of-stranger danger, getting into mentioned kind-of-stranger’s car (don’t do what y/n did!!), suggestive themes & jokes, hangover & leftover tipsiness, cringe, promiscuous bisexual reader, nothing explicit though!! Also, Jisung is too much I’m sorry

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: special thanks to @staytion-nine for being a bro and reading & critiquing my full shitty drafts and @strayneoculturekids & @hyunjinssmile for thinking my crack parts were good & somewhat funny way back when I wrote them ilyssssm🤗💞💛

ps, I hope you readers liked/found my easter eggs!!🥴

“Your heart began to sing, sing triumphantly as if you broke some sort of curse- Curse? Wait, hold up. Hold the fuck up. I think he’s my soulmate?! But I can’t possibly have one-”

Cursed series 1/?-  ~001~  😈🤓😳~

Growing up, not a single day passed without your single mother reminding you that meeting your soulmate wasn't going to happen for you. The odds were not at all in your favor, not her’s, not your grandmother’s and not even your great grandmother’s mom; being the youngest girl of the youngest in the family made you carry such a burden. The streak that your family had going on for generations was too strong to break at this point. It’d be a miracle and a half if you ever heard of your soulmate for a fraction of a second. You started to accept by the time you learned how to read, that a life with a soulmate was frankly not in the cards for you. 

To say you were completely and utterly blind-sighted when you met your soulmate, would be the understatement of the century. You lived your whole life with no fear or any expectations of long lasting relationships whether it’s with a soulmate or not. You lived the life you knew many people with soulmates or obsessions with commitment couldn’t live. You lived a life of freedom, focused on yourself. 

Now, it's been three months at this university; three months, and you already have a reputation that precedes you. Contrary to popular belief, you don't like the attention. Yet somehow the spotlight seems to follow you. Though, you would argue you weren’t as charismatic as you were careless. Your carelessness seemed to be your charm and charming you seemed to be.

A groan tore out from your throat when as stretched over to snatch your boots. Jelly legs hobbling all over the place as you scrambled to tug them on, stubbornly not zipping down the zipper which only made it harder for you in the long run. Once on, you trudge on forward, not giving a shit if things were inside out or not, all that mattered to you was going back to sleep in your own bed. You have to remain careful though. You don’t want to go too fast and have stomach acid erupt out of you in aggravation, ruining the Sorority’s carpet and your morning. So, you watched each and every wobbly step as you did your best to navigate your way out of the crowded, trashed halls of the post-party filth. Fortunately, it seemed you’ve risen before anyone else, no conscious creatures for you to deal with. 

The clock struck six o’clock as you strut down Greek row, your steps more firm now, waking you up more with each step. However, waking up meant more hangover symptoms, though you weren’t exactly sober. You made it about four more clumsy steps down the sidewalk before a car slows down next to you. This has happened to you more times than you can count, but never when the birds were fucking chirping. You huff out in irritation, walking faster, thus, less firm as you tried to remain calm. 

Who the hell pulls up to you when it’s fucking sunrise?! Unbelievable. 

You only make it two more steps before the right next to you. Even though you tell yourself not to, your head swivels to look at the driver on instinct. He looks vaguely familiar, you’ve seen those cheeks somewhere but his name is lost on you. You acknowledge him with a questioning look as he rolls down the window.

“Want a ride?” He offers like you’ve known him for ten years and your pets were best friends. You were expecting a catcall but his voice was full of awkward sincerity and a bit of reluctance that couldn’t be faked.     

“I thought chivalry was de-ad.” You choked, giving a nudge with your words to test his sincerity.

“I thought you liked girls more and don’t believe in it anyway.” He dished back. Okay, fair. This guy’s a real one. 

“Touché... Ohhh what the helll-” You huffed, “I’ll take it.” You vaguely recognize him and he seems to know you too so what can hurt; that’s at least how you look at it in the buzzed moment. 

His unimpressive car comes to a smooth stop, you hear the doors unlock and you sluggishly yanked the door open and groan as you slide in, kindly ignoring the mess because you’re not much better. 

 “Did you not party last ni’?” You blurted, looking over at him with a dry smile. As you do, you can really take him in. His dark, messy hair and his cute over-expressive face, topped with a pair of doughy cheeks. Despite the cuteness, there’s not a doubt in your mind this is some frat boy on the college team, though you’re not even sure what team is in season right now. One thing was for sure though, his guns were proudly out of a cut out muscle-t like a living, breathing fuckboy starter pack. Infuriatingly, he pulled it off, he looked too attractive for this time, on the weekend especially. With all that being said, he seriously looks like the kind of guy that should be as fucked up as you are right now. And yet, here he is, behind the wheel looking as sober as a slice of bread.

“Nah,” He starts, getting his foot off the brake and turning back into the road, “me and my soulmate stayed in ‘cuz coach is making practice earlier than usual.” 

Well, that train left the station. “Ahh, that-that's too bad.” You heard yourself pettily trail off. 

“Nah, ‘zall good. I think coach is taking it out on us ‘cuz his wife found out he’s doin’ drugs and gambling again-“

“Do ya have any friends like you?” You blurted out again. 

“Huh??” 

“Do ya got any friends that do things like this?” You grumbled, resisting the urge to facepalm at yourself. Fucking hell, Y/n.

“That go to practice this early? Yehh. The whole fucking basketball te-“ 

“No!” You hiss, head pulsing, his voice is too goddamn loud. “Gentlemen!” clarifying and sulkily leaned your head against the cool window. 

“Ohhh!!~” Then he belts out laughing like a blaring fire alarm, making your entire brain rattle.

“Shhhh!” As you turn to glare at him, you realize your turn was coming up. “Wait!! Turn here!!” 

He hissed and stepped harshly on the breaks. “This one?” 

“Yeah!!-“ it was already too late when you unnecessarily clarified, so he had to turn around and go turn in again. Thank god the streets were dead at this date and time. You’re sure he broke at least four traffic laws.

“Shit, man!! You can’t say that and then expect me to make the turn, I got too excited!!” He was beaming, far too excited for your dumb question and not at all concerned about his chaotic driving. 

“What the fuuck?!?! You’ got a soulmate-“

“No, dumbass!!” He whines like you just missed the best play in the whole game, too bad there aren’t instant replies for day to day conversations. “I have a bro who we’ve been trying to get laid.~” And now he makes the turn, good job buddy. 

“Okay, two stops from now you’re gonna turn left.” It is then that you realize the last part of what he just said. “Huh? Li-like frat bro?”

“Yeah, dude. He’s so pissy I don’t think his hand is doin’ it for him anymore.” The dude laughed at his own joke, elbowing you in the side. Normally you would have joined in and punched him but for some reason, your little fucked up heart started to warm up hearing about this cute frat boy.

“Ahhhh.” And then you laughed a little too late, his wingmanning ass didn’t notice.

“Yeah! And he says books are better than pussy so that’s how we know he’s becoming a lost cause. We’re placing our bets that he won’t get it on until he finds his soulmate.” 

“What a swee-eetheart.~” You hiccupped with dazed eyes and chapped smile. You had to admit, you were endeared. You never heard about a dorky, innocent fraternity boy before, and you never would have thought that it would appeal to you.

“Is it this one or the next one?” 

“This one. So whoo’z this friend of yours-“ Unfortunately you were caught off by a ringtone blasting at the fullest volume making your brain wail in pain, for the second fucking time this morning. 

He just snickers. “Sorry, gotta answer this… Yuh~?” You just huffed and closed your eyes, deflating a little bit. 

“Seungmin?!?”

For some unknown reason, that name made you jolt back up into your seat. ‘Seungmin’, why does that sound so familiar?! 

“Well, speak of the devil!!~” He got too excited and looked at you, and gives you an over-enthused wink. You’re assuming this is the frat bro. “Your car won’t start??~~” This dude, you still don’t quite remember the name of, was really playing this up. For possibly the same unknown reason, him talking to this dude has your full attention. Normally you’d eavesdrop half-heartedly but this time your whole heart started to beat a way it never has before, begging you to soak up as much of this half conversation as possible. 

“Of course I’ll drive my wittle brother!!~... -fuck off a few days totally does count!!- Whatever!! Anyway, fair warning, I became a fucking uber this morning, I’m driving this girl too so prepare yourself!!... Shhh, it’s not a joke! And she’s really hot; make sure your heart and dick are ready.” 

You were about to beat this dude before you vaguely heard the muffled voice on the other line chew him out for you. You couldn’t hold in your smile before you realized; even though you were abnormally giddy, now is not the goddamn time to meet this kid. You looked like you were run over by three different military-grade vehicles and you’re more than sure you had lipstick marks from last night smeared in various places all over you. But most importantly, you were in a limbo of drunk and hungover. You needed way more rest and sustenance before you should interact with anyone of importance. You opened your mouth to scream at him but you were cut off yet again. 

“...Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I’ll turn around now, just for you.~ I’m pretty sure we’re close to her dorm but who cares how late I’m gonna be for practice! I’m making shit happen! See ya in a sec, muah!” If you weren’t high key starting to panic, you would’ve laughed at this dude’s unending ridiculousness. There is no way in hell you’re gonna meet this familiar stranger‘s friend that he’s setting you up with at six fucking a.m. in a frankly disgusting state.

“Do not turn around or I swear to fucking Rupaul-“

“No can do, bro. Besides, you seemed interested in him so why not!?! Be grateful! I’m gonna have to run double the fuckin laps cuz a’ this.”

‘“Why not’?!! I just got outta’ a stranger’s bed and I’m still drunk and somehow hungover too and my dorm is just around the corner-“

“Listen; bros before hoes. Frat legacy.” And with that, he chuckled as he turned the car around for the second time today. You take back the gentleman comment you gave him earlier, he’s a pile shit. 

“I’m gonna fucking jump out of the car-“ you groaned with a bluff, tugging at your smeared face and he smugly locked the doors before you could finish. “Cmonnn!~ It’s too fucking early for this shit, man! Why didn’t I just keep walking or just stayed-“

“I'm doing you a favor!~”

“Dropping me off when and where I asked you to is doing me a favor! That’s literally why I’m in your messy ass car that smells like rancid fuckin’ cheesecake in the first place!!”

“Hey, now you’re just being mean!”

You groaned and glared out the window, opting to ignore him now. This argument had you sobering up. This just really wasn’t it. You resisted the urge to pull down the mirror and see how bad you really looked but, you would rather not know how bad it is. Knowing your past morning afters, you’ve looked a hell of a lot cuter every other time. 

It seems like you’re just gonna have to grin and bear it and let this one go. There’s plenty of bitches in the sea. Bitches that never made you heart skipped like this before- and without you even meeting them-

All you could think about how embarrassing and fucked up this whole thing he’s pulling is as you glare at the passing sidewalks and cars parked at the side of the roads. You wish the passing textured and crumbly neighborhood sidewalks could swallow you up. It’s not often that you felt so burdened at an awaiting social encounter these days. You hated this.

“And we’re here!!” He stops and proudly puts the car into park. “Okay, Siri, call ‘Noodle Bitchass’.” 

The fuck-

-“I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Would you like me to search the web for ‘Nude space app’?”-

“Ughhhhh. Fuck you!! I said, ‘Call~ Nooo-DiLL BiiiiTCh AAAssss’~~!!!”

 -“Okay. Calling Noodle Bitchass nerd emoji, middle finger emoji in medium tan’.”- You were about to cry in shocked laughter but the guy answered too soon so you had to snort into your hand and curl in on yourself. 

“Yah!! Han Jisung!!” Holy mother almighty, his voice is pure sunshine and honey. Your body slowly uncurled back up on its own. Fuck, okay it’s on speaker. Shit, I can’t even breathe, can’t make a sound.

“We’re here, man.” 

“Hhhhh… she’s not still with you is she?” Is it possible to be attracted to a voice? I think I’m attracted to a voice. 

“Hell yeah, she is! Suck it up, bro. You’re already making me late and she’s fine~!!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jisung-“ Oh, good lord. Him swearing really just--

“Get in or I’ll leave you here and set her up with Innie instead.” You just heard the guy sigh and the sound of a facepalm, you’re guessing, before the line went dead. And finally. You could finally howl with laughter, or perhaps it was more like manic screaming in infatuation.  

You have never, in all your years of living felt like this because of a person. Is this what it feels like to be whipped? Fuck, fuck, fuck- It’s like I’m at a concert- but not really and-

You were still in the thick of it when a door ripped open. When you reflexively looked over, all the air that was left in your lungs pathetically wheezed out of you like a sad balloon. 

Then the sensations all hit you.

Wow, okay the drunkenness and hangover is gone? I feel good? I feel alive, I feel the cool late autumn air? I feel feelings; feelings I’ve never felt before? You were light as a mother fuckin’ feather and astounded as all burning hell. You were openly experiencing so many intense emotions, something that hasn’t happened in so many years. 

At that moment your mouth and his gawk right open at the exact same time, not that the two of you noticed. Without any volition, your eyes immediately drown in the other. Okay, he’s actual artwork? He was dressed so cute like he was ready to take some cute aesthetic photos for a dumb little blog. Oh god, he smells like a cup of tea in the forest after it rained?! That’s so specific- but. He smells so lovely. 

His hair was pure angelic fluff and his skin was a light, silky caramel. You watched before your tired, dry eyes, the caramel in his cheeks rise into the purest shade of pink and his eyes widening into adorable little saucers. When they met yours, they were sparklier than any ring on any finger; you swear to god herself, you felt electricity crackle in your veins like wood to the fire.  Your eyes couldn’t pull away, you felt like a giddy little kid again. Whirling with excitement and curiosity as you looked at him all bundled up for the late fall weather. Your heart began to sing, sing triumphantly as if you broke some sort of curse- 

Curse?

Wait, hold up. 

Hold the fuck up. 

I think he’s my soulmate?! But I can’t possibly have one-

That’s when your entire body began to heat up in question. None of this made sense to you. 

How is this possible? How is this fucking possible?! The only thing your brain seems to produce in reaction is unending, spiraling questions. For each and every one of them, whether rhetorical or not, you didn’t have a sensical explanation or possible answer. This didn’t make any sense, it went against everything you ever knew to be true. 

You couldn’t have a soulmate, your maternal lineage fucked that up for you, it was what you were born into without a choice. A perpetual heartbreak, something that started out as merely coincidental to grow into a family burden that carried on precariously. How can it be that for generations, the youngest daughter in the family never got to meet their soulmate until now, until you? You were on the brink of a fucking existential crisis. 

Seungmin seemed shocked as well, though leagues and leagues below the ballgame you’re dealing with right now. He looked shocked; appearing delightfully surprised. Shocked as if he wasn’t expecting to be surprised with a present on a random and unimportant Wednesday, not shocked as if he just broke a generations-long family streak. 

Before you can continue these heavy ass thoughts, Jisung blasts out an interruption yet again.

“I CAN’T FUCKIN’ BELIEVE THIS!! I THOUGHT I WAS JUST HOOKING UP MY BOY AT ASS CRACK IN THE MORNING!! BUT NO!! I FUCKIN’ FOUND HIM HIS SOULMATE!! AND IT’S Y/N OUTTA ALL PEOPLE!! Y/N?!? SEUNGMIN?!? THE UNIVERSE REALLY PAIRED THESE PEOPLE TOGETHER?!? OUT OF-” 

“Jisung, shut the fuck up.” To your surprise, it was Seungmin who interrupts ‘Jisung’ and not you, as he gets the rest of the way into the messy car. His put-together ass looks completely out of place in this shitty car, it made you try to hold in a smile as closes the door with barely restrained enthusiasm. 

Before he turns back, you force yourself to face forward and try to calm the hell down and calmly reassess the situation. 

Alright... You met your not plausible-soulmate, out of all places in time and space, in the car of a kinda-stranger who offered you a ride home in the early-ass morning after getting laid at a sorority party. 

Okay. Great. This is great.

You cleared your throat and tried to remain cool. “O-okay, awesome. Where ar-are we heading to first?” Okay, that wasn’t entirely cool but maybe you can blame it on literally everything else wrong with you in this situation. 

“I don’t know, man. I deadass wanna just skip practice altogether and-” Jisung was interrupted by the sound of a camera’s shutter. You instinctively whip your head around towards the sound, only to be met with Seungmin camera-handed. He has the fucking nerve to take two more in the time it took for you to whip around. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?” Your voice ripped out of you, croaking out like an enraged toad. He then takes the final picture as you’re screeching at him. This just kept getting richer and richer. First, Jisung’s bullshit, then life-altering realizations that you broke some sort of generations long streak of not having a soulmate, and now your seemingly miraculous soulmate taking unexpected, embarrassing photographs of you in the worst state you’ve ever been in?

“Taking your picture.” He grinned with a shrug, no guilt or shame to be seen nor heard. You could not hold in squawks of disbelief. His pride and excitement seemed to only grow at your bewilderment, he had the nerve to do a precious ‘hehehe’, the kind that little kids do after they steal a cookie from the jar. 

“Give me that!” You sneer as you go to savagely rip it right out of his perfect hands. However, the two of you seemed to be matched in more ways than one; neither of you would budge, equally as strong as the other. 

“No way! You’ll delete them!!” 

“Yeah, exactly!! ‘No way in hell will I let you keep pictures of me like this!” 

“‘No fuckin’ way will I let you delete them!”

You gritted your teeth. “Then let me take pictures of you!!!” And then you can sneakily delete-

“Yeah and then you’ll delete yours.” How the fuck did he know-

“Seungmin, just give her the goddamn camera so I can drive and drop your hormonal asses off before coach murders me.” 

There was a raging fire in Seungmin’s eyes as he slowly and painfully let go of his forsaken camera so you could tentatively take it. Upon retrieving the camera your fingers accidentally grab unto Seungmin’s. Resulting in a little static shock zap, startling you and heating up your cheeks immediately with a jerk and a hiss. Seungmin reacted similarly, blinking like pink dust blew into his eyes to land on his cheeks. Your hand yanks it back towards you before you even realize it. Jisung was far too excited to watch this drama unfold right before his wide eyes. 

 If this was a normal day for you you’d jump to delete those humiliating pictures of yourself immediately, looking nothing short of the cheshire cat. But this was evidently not a normal day in any sense of the word, so, what you did was unlike you. You huffed out a breath to encourage yourself before slowly raising the camera to your dominant eye and focused the lense as best you could. 

At least I can photograph how irritatingly handsome he looks at this hour. 

You took the first picture, zooming in on his now grouchy, but still stupidly handsome face. Then you zoom out as far as possible, hoping to take in this entire scene in front of you, his angry posture in an adorably preppy outfit, this messy, disgusting car and how out of place he looks in it.

“Only two more.” Seungmin huffs with an eyeroll and by some divine power (perhaps the same divine power that made this odd miracle happen in the first place), you clicked fast enough to get some of that petty behavior visually documented. You pressed down twice, sadly that was your limit you agreed upon.

You didn’t even look at the pictures you took nor the ones Seungmin took so that you wouldn’t be tempted to delete them. It felt like you were committing a saintly act; as if simply taking his picture like you said you would, without deleting anything made you pure and free of sin. Perhaps this twisted reality of somehow defeating the ancestral odds had you feeling undeservingly self-righteous.

“You better not delete yours either.” You sneered once more, before jabbing the camera back into his sweatered chest. This time you were determined not to turn around again, you couldn’t risk him taking any more pictures. You also aren’t entirely sure you could handle seeing his stupid perfect face once more. This was an outrage and this was your way of protest. Also, an unspoken miracle, but enough of that.

You swiveled your head away from Jisung and Seungmin, fully leaning into the cool window and began to count the street lights and stop signs. As the grueling seconds ticked by the more concentrated you tried to be. Soon enough the concentration turned sleepy and before you knew it, you were knocked out. All your adrenaline fueled energy depleted.

All through your protest-turned-snooze, Seungmin couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. He couldn’t help but find it endearing how you could be an absolute riot only to pass out three minutes later. It hurt how cute he found you, no matter how scandalous you seem to be. You seemed so genuinely shocked, it made him want to cry. And he’s also fairly certain that this isn’t new to you, you not only partied all night and regularly. And judging from the markings on your skin, you might’ve done a little bit more than party last night. In fact, it might’ve even enticed him, might’ve gotten him a little hot under the collar. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he already whipped and he hasn’t even caught your name.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning: Second Chapter Prologue

It was nighttime, and the waning moon was, for some reason, vividly bright. Mike McGuire was laying in the middle of the ring in their backyard, staring up through the branches. The leaves had yet to sprout, but the buds were set to start opening up anytime. Same could be said for the young plants newly set in the soil near the back porch- a small plot of land freshly tilled up, planted with varying marigolds, daffodils, impatiens, and centered in it all, a rosebush received for Valentine’s. It was nice and neat, every plant perfectly arranged. The same could not be said for the garage.

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

It had all began not even a few days ago. A few days ago after losing their beloved tag team championship belts at the biggest show of the year. They had spoken little. They showered, dressed, went to the hotel, slept, got on the plane the next morning. And somewhere over the ocean, John had turned to Mike, and in a rare initiation of conversation…

“Mike.”

John was looking out the window, like he did with every trip, and there was a quiet mesmerization about it. Mike startled a bit. He didn’t usually initiate conversation. Sometimes early on they wouldn’t speak for hours, and when Mike asked why he wasn’t talking to them he simply replied ‘you didn’t say anything.’ Him breaking his ‘speak when spoken to’ habit usually indicated he had something important on his mind, so they’d shifted and given him their full attention. “Yeah, bud?”

“I turned 42 two weeks ago.”

He didn’t sound overtly happy about it. John’s emotional inflection was a subtle, nuanced thing, but by now Mike had become very attuned to picking it out. Still, they offered him a wavery little smile, probably in an attempt to cheer the both of them up. “You shoulda told me that. Woulda made you a cake.”

John shrugged.

“Better stuff to celebrate.”

His hand touched the window briefly.

“Like us.”

He turned to Mike in his chair and spoke low.

“But what I mean is that … maybe I can continue to do this. Maybe my body holds up a little longer. But I’ve come to realization that I don’t want to.” They sat up bolt upright, their head tilting to the side. For a moment they resembled an Irish Setter who just heard a far-off dog whistle and was trying to process what in the world that sound was. “You wanna stop? Like… this minute?” It wasn’t accusatory- more like confirming that the sounds coming out of his mouth were forming words that they were understanding the meaning of.

“Yes.” “You sure?” “Yes.” They sat back in their seat, expression a little dazed, as if showing mild signs of shock. Then they closed their eyes, inhaled, exhaled. Managed a smile, wobbly for a different reason than their previous one, and reached over, giving his wrist a squeeze. “...okay.”

The declaration had caught Mike completely off guard. In a way, they thought, they should’ve seen it coming at some point- he’d made some remarks about the ugliness of the business, beginning to think past it. But they hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly. It was like driving at 60 MPH and then suddenly slamming on the brakes, the sudden jettisoning into the seatbelt knocking out all your breath and leaving your insides hurting. They went home. He planted his garden, seeming serene and perfectly content. Mike gave Alundra a once-over- they’d had her painted in their absence, the vivid yellow and red flame paintjob traded for an emerald green with orange flame one. The new vanity plates installed- NSFW 1. Something stabbed inside them. The next day. Grocery shopping. Mike going over their particulars. So much had been provided for them that had to be taken into account now. Health insurance- the extended coverage wouldn’t last forever, and though they could easily afford it, plans for two people in their shape wasn’t going to come easily. Something pricked at their eyes. Mike kept staring at their phone. It would ring eventually, they just knew it, a gruff voice on the other end demanding what in the blue hell they thought they were doing, is this what I wasted my time on you for, pulling yourself out of obscurity and stumbling into the perfect partner just to vanish like a fart in the wind? They weren’t sure the old man would say that. But what would they think, when they heard? How would they explain ‘he wanted out and I couldn’t deny him that and I can’t keep going in good fucking conscience without him’? And so on till today. This evening. Just now. Mike found themselves in the garage. They looked around. A small box was on the table- a prototype of a new piece of merch. A snowglobe. Little figurines of them under a dome of glass filled with water. They held their title belts. Shake it, orange and green confetti glitter swirled around. Pieces of fanmail, notes on their Twitter, asked where they’d gone. Some wished them well. Some worried that they were hurt or worse. Some said they felt betrayed. Why couldn’t you have even said goodbye? We believed in you. Quitters. Mike’s grip tightened on the snowglobe, their teeth gritting together hard. ‘It got taken from me and I wasn’t ready, and it fuckin’ sucks. So bad.’ Their own words from a year past slam into their brain and with a roar, they throw the snowglobe down, sending a shatter of broken glass and glitter water splatting over the concrete floor. A t-shirt snatched from a box, the phoenix that’d been emblazoned on their viking flags torn in two with an obnoxious ripping sound, the rest of the box kicked over. Their head whipped around, glaring viciously at the cardboard face of David Scott. Screeching, all but consumed by their fury, they dashed forward, grabbing him by the top of his large, scowling head and tearing the cutout apart. They couldn’t believe their own anger. They felt robbed, cheated, resentful. And all those feelings made Mike feel even worse, because they didn’t want to direct them at John. They couldn’t have kept going if he hadn’t wanted to. They didn’t want to be one more person who knew his desires and chose to ignore them. Mike’s train of thought slowly cooled their anger. All that was left was a giant mess of broken glass, torn t-shirts, dented boxes, ripped up cardboard. Something sick heaved in their chest and they left the garage, numbly trekking through the backyard until they found themselves in the ring.

-------------- So there they were. Maybe they could salvage something. Maybe the fans they hadn’t completely alienated would still want them, for old time’s sake. If they got back into auto repair maybe they could even sell them there as a bonus. Nostalgia was always a hot ticket, and somebody in the future was bound to remember that one tag team that got super hot and then vanished without a trace out of nowhere. Raising an arm, they laid it over the bridge of their nose, shielding their closed eyes from the moonlight as they tried not to sob. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.

John stood in the doorway of garage backdoor. Behind him was the aftermath of the disturbance that woke him. He had noticed immediately that Mike was gone. He had sat up from the bed and waiting until the noises subside. Quietly, he went to the garage and looked upon what had happened. His emotions ticked up slightly to disappointment that the quiet last few days had been a simmering pot and it had just spilled over. Soft footsteps went across the yard to the source. He stood just outside the ring, keeping his distance for the moment. He cut through the ambience of the night.

“I know you’re angry at me.” There was a long pause. The soft, occasional chirp of an early cricket or two. “‘M not mad at you. I feel shitty that I’m mad at all. S’ fuckin… complicated.” They didn’t move, their speech muted. If their anger was a fire, right now they were the embers that some knowledgeable Eagle Scout had doused with water and stirred up with a stick. Only You Can Prevent Wildfires. “...i didn’t want to not give you this. I feel like I’ve let people down. Myself a little. And then I get mad at myself cuz the alternative is what? Making you run yourself down when you don't want to anymore just to feed my own fuckin’ dream that I should’a grown out of? It… I…” Sniff. “...it just happened so fuckin’ quick. Like slammin’ a book shut ‘fore you read the end.”

John circled around to the wooden steps leading up onto the apron. He put a foot on the first step.

“I thought it would just be the end of a chapter.” Slowly lowering their arm from their face, they scooted themself across the canvas a bit away from the center- not a recoil, but an invitation. Reaching up, they curled their hand around the bottom rope. They knew that. It made them feel even more foolish for exploding the way they had, the silvery light of the moon accentuating the blush standing out on their damp cheeks. “I’m bein’ a fuckin’ dumb baby, aren’t I…”

“No. Not happy that I advertently made a decision for you as well.”

“We’re a package deal. Can’t do it without you. Don’t want to. I know what you said’s right. Our story ain’t over. Just feel like I’ve been thrown violently into the next scene without any time to brace myself. But I’ll get over it. Get over myself, maybe.” Their right arm, the one not gripping onto the rope, reaches out to the side, fingers beckoning a bit. “‘M sorry I broke all that stuff… poor Milscott…”

“It was just that. Stuff.”

He stepped up onto the apron.

“I believed in what we said. All of that talk about hall of fames and being the greatest. It was fun. It lit a fire inside of me. But it made me feel like we were walking down the wrong path. Like we almost did before.”

“Mouthy little shit talks a big game.” There was a dry chuckle at that. All that talk of being the first tag team in the EWC Hall of Fame would likely amount to just that. Talk. It was one of the things that’d jagged at them these past few days, that their ultimate legacy was apparently a foul-mouthed hothead who made big grandiose boasts only to bail without warning. Exhaling, they turned their head toward him, hand still reaching in his direction. “How so? We weren’t bein’ dicks again, were we?”

“No.”

He walked along the the edge of the apron, stopping just before them.

“Don’t think it was that simple. Our words, though? They started to mirror something we swear we’d never be. Started to have some folks nod along that weren’t before.”

It took Mike a moment to puzzle that one out, their mouth pursing, flicking two and fro, nose crinkling a bit. After a few seconds, though, their red-rimmed eyes popped, left hand releasing the rope and going to their mouth with a gasp. “Noooooo. You can’t fuckin’ mean… no. No motherfuckin’ way we were sounding like him. … Were we really?”

“Maybe not exactly. But it made me think. Readjusted a few priorities.”

He had finally stepped through the ropes and entered the ring. He stood over them.

“I would have gone as long as we had those belts. And sure, there were amazing possibilities on the horizon. I love the sport. But I had been wrong in the assumption that it was the only thing I was meant to do. You made me see that.” Mike looked up at him. From this angle he looked impossibly huge, and it made them feel smaller in comparison. Physically anyway. John never made you feel small as a person, and if he did, you probably deserved it. “...maybe I’ve had it backwards this whole time then. I kept seeing things as… I don’t fuckin’ know… a block building. You take out any one part of it- me, you, our home, the business- and everything falls to pieces. I mean I figured we’d stop someday, maybe in a year or two, kinda ease out of it, tell everybody where we were going an’ why. But in all those big fuckin’ pipe dreams I didn’t think about what you thought. I just assumed you wanted the same thing I did when it came to the business an’ that was fuckin’ selfish of me. I’m really sorry.”

He knelt down beside Mike, before finally sitting back, crossing his legs.

“I wanted all of that. But there’s more to us, I believe. I’d be naive to think there isn’t conflict elsewhere in the world but it is less likely than what we were doing. I had remembered what I loved about the business before it was taken all away. But more importantly, I now have something I never had.”

“...VIP customer status at Barnes and Noble?” The cheeky grin that flicked onto Mike’s face wasn’t the wavering, willing-yourself-to-smile expression she’d given him the last couple days. Like a breath of fresh air, it was real. Slowly, they pulled themself up to a sitting position, folding their legs likewise, facing him, reaching for his hands. Without hesitation, John placed his hands into theirs. He smiled in response to Mike’s joke. Sighing softly, Mike ran their thumbs over his knuckles tenderly. Even if they had been mad at him, it wouldn’t have lasted. They could be mad at a lot and hold grudges for ages, but never at him. Something about John was impossible to be angry with- least that’s how Mike saw it. “So… now what?”

John shrugged in response. But in that same moment, he felt an answer come through.

“We stop hiding who we are.”

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Skyward

Ao3

Chapter 6: All the Way

The horn of the trundling train sounded once more as Katsuki tugged her up to the side of the tracks. Ochako used the back of her free hand to quickly dry her tears; regardless of her feelings on the matter, it was clear that Katsuki had no intentions of separating her until she was out of harm’s way, at least. She looked up to see a head poke out of the small window in the train’s engine compartment. 

The train engineer squinted at them from the train’s cab, the blue cap resting atop his fluffy white-gray hair flopping slightly in the wind. There were smudges of soot on his wrinkled face and dusting his thick eyebrows. Over the clanking of the old machine, he shouted, “Eh? Katsuki, my boy, is that you?” 

“Old man Torino!” Katsuki called back, waving his arm above his head. “We’re gonna hop aboard, okay?” 

The train driver croaked an affirmative before disappearing back into the engine compartment, leaving the two teenagers to climb aboard the moving locomotive. They got a running start, dashing alongside the train, before Katsuki hopped into the open door of the train’s front. He clutched either side of the metal opening for a second, then extended his hand toward Ochako. 

“Okay, Cheeks, jump!” 

Ochako hesitated. He could see that she did, she knew that with the way his eyes creased in confusion and hurt. However, even if she let him be borne away by that train, she knew he would hop right off to chase after her. So, after that momentary uncertainty, she stretched out her hand. Katsuki snatched it up and gripped it tight, then pulled her into the speeding train car. He grabbed her hips as she wobbled unsteadily right on the edge of the metal platform, his broad hands secure on her body. She flushed slightly as he looked down at her, searching her face. 

“So, my boy, what trouble have you gotten into this time?” the train driver chortled while he sat at his dashboard. He looked over his shoulder with a playfully raised eyebrow. “And you’ve got a pretty girl with ya, my, my. Never knew you had it in ya, boy!” 

“Sh-shut it, old man!” Katsuki snapped, turning away to hide the blaze of red appearing on his cheeks. 

“See? Only yer momma could love a boy with a mouth like that. You got your work cut out for ya, sweetheart,” the old man laughed, and it was Ochako’s turn to blush. “Name’s Sorahiko Torino! I been running these tracks for three o’ that brat’s lifetimes. So, what’s this brat gotten ya into?” 

“As a matter of fact, she dragged me into her mess, thank you!” Katsuki snapped, turning up his nose. Ochako cringed at this, which Katsuki saw out of the corner of his eyes. He turned pink and hurriedly reached out to grab one of her cheeks, pinching it and wiggling around a little. “Be that as it may,” he huffed over her indignant squeaks, “this is the most interesting fucking thing that’s happened in this damn town in forever.” Despite herself, Ochako felt warmed by his attempt to take her feelings into consideration— or was it simply because he didn’t want her to  run off again? 

Her lack of surety made her heart ache because she really didn’t want it to be the latter. She wanted Katsuki to care. 

“So, what is the nature of this mess, considering I have now been dragged into it?” Sorahiko hummed, fiddling with a few of the dials and knobs on the train’s control panel. 

“Cheeks here is bein’ chased by pirates.” 

“Pirates?” Sorahiko exclaimed, then tipped his head back in laughter. “That sounds absolutely tremendous. Pirates! Ah, I feel fifty years younger just thinking about it.” 

“Too bad you don’t look younger, old man,” Katsuki huffed. Sorahiko turned around with a frown, a barb resting on his tongue, but the words faltered. He tipped his head to the side with a curious gaze between the two teenagers, out the back window, and then smiled in amused resignation. 

“Well, it looks like the fun’s about to get started. Better hold onto your britches, youngsters, ‘cuz she’s goin’ full steam ahead!” he cackled with far too much glee, then jammed back a large lever. Ochako and Katsuki gasped when the train suddenly lurched forward. Smoke billowed from the chimney, dark and black. The two teenagers followed its trail out the rear window to see it wisping on the wind, riding the breeze to swirl around the partly-crumpled fender of the pirate’s automobile, which was driving at breakneck speed on the train tracks. 

“You gotta give it to ‘em, those bastards are tenacious!” Katsuki groused, watching the automobile surge down the tracks. “Tenacious” was a generous word; Ochako would probably use the term “barking mad,” considering the fact that all of the boys were screeching at the top of their lungs as they zoomed over the precarious tracks. Really, they were nothing more than wooden scaffolds stretching down into the abyss; one wrong turn of the wheel and the car with them in it would go plummeting into the mine shafts. Yet here they were, howling down the tracks in mad pursuit of Ochako. 

“All right, Cheeks, I’m goin’ outside,” Katsuki huffed and started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. 

“What? Outside?!” she exclaimed, but could only watch wide-eyed as Katsuki climbed out the back window into one of the empty coal carts attached to the back of the train. She leaned her head out the windows to see him straddling the gap, reaching for the giant hook attaching the coal carts to the engine. Just then, the front end of the automobile slammed into the rearmost car, jarring the entire train. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Katsuki cried, pinwheeling his arms as he fought to stay balanced on the thin ledges. Ochako grabbed onto his leg to keep him from slipping, ducking her head to avoid being slapped by Katsuki’s large hands. Once he’d regained his footing, he whipped his head around to shout at the pirates, “You assholes!” 

“You’re the asshole!” Eijirou yelled back while he leaned over the car’s steering wheel, on which he had a white-knuckled grip. “Hanta! Denki! Grab the girl!” The two boys clambered over the front of the car to hop into the train’s rear cart, jumping their shallow walls like hurdles. 

“Cheeks! Cover me!” Katsuki ordered, then ducked down to slowly lift the heavy hook holding the carts to the engine compartment. Even with all the physical labor that Katsuki had done, the hook was a chunk of pure iron and rusted to boot. Red-brown flakes rained from the hook as Katsuki slowly teased it out of its loop. Meanwhile, Ochako fluttered around the engine compartment for anything that could help.

“Mister Sorahiko, sir, can’t this machine go any faster?” she pleaded, lifting up a shovel. 

“I’m afraid she’s old, dear, and old people don’t go very fast.” 

“Right,” she sighed, then looked back out the rear window to see Denki and Eijirou coming up fast. As they leaped from the second cart into the first, Ochako hefted the shovel over her head and flung it with all her might. The two boys yelped simultaneously as the shovel slammed right into their faces—the spade-shaped end in Denki’s, and the rubber-lined handle into Hanta’s. They exchanged low groans of “What a strong girl,” before slinking down into the belly of the cart. Katsuki finally undid the hook and started cranking the brake, and sparks jumped from the detached carts’ wheels as they halted against the metal tracks. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Eijirou screamed as the carts crashed into their car. It jolted back, and Ochako thought that finally, the pirates had been bested. However, with a determined roar, Eijirou slammed his foot down on the gas and stood up in the driver’s seat. “You can’t get rid of us that easy!” he yowled, and Katsuki barely had time to scramble back into the engine compartment before the carts jammed up against the back of the engine car. 

“Can’t get rid of ya? Yer like fuckin’ locusts!” Katsuki shouted at Eijirou through the window, then yelped as Hanta produced a pistol and shot at the metal above his head. “Oi! You tryna kill me here?” Katsuki yelled as sparks rained down into his ash-blond spikes of hair. 

“Just hand over the necklace, dickwad!” Eijirou shouted. 

“Over my dead fuckin’ body, shitstain!” 

“That can be arranged!” 

“Mister Sorahiko! What can we do?” Ochako fretted, running up to the front of the train. The old man squinted out the window, then produced a wrench from within the pocket of his overalls. He got up from the train seat to toddle over to the side window, where he promptly chucked the wrench. Ochako rushed up beside him to see the wrench sail through the air, spinning round and round, until it struck a lever on the side of the tracks. 

There was a loud screeching noise as the tracks behind them shifted, curving to the left. The two boys in the carts and the automobile could only howl in dismay as they veered off right, while the engine car went huffing-and-puffing along its merry way. As Katsuki stepped away from the rear window with a smug, “Serves those bastards right,” Ochako rushed up to grab his arm. 

“Oh, that was too close!” she whimpered. As she buried her face into the folded sleeve of his shirt, he smiled sympathetically and reached up to stroke her bouncy brunette locks. It felt so nice, the way his hand smoothed gently over her scalp in the most tender of touches. 

“Don’t worry, Cheeks. A bunch o’ bozos in a clown car ain’t gonna get the better o’ me!” She looked up to him with a sweet smile, tears brimming in her eyes. 

There was no helping it now. She knew that. For better or for worse, she was in Katsuki’s care. She would have to carry her guilt for much longer because there was no way that she would be able to survive without him. 

As a “thank you” tingled on her tongue, Sorahiko released a curse and jammed back on the brake. Ochako slammed into Katsuki’s side, and he reflexively wrapped her in a tight hug. They stumbled to the other side window, and in the chaos, Ochako caught a glimpse of a massive military tank blocking the bulky junction of the train crossings. The engine car screeched to a halt just in front of the tank, and Sorahiko squinted at its mass. 

“Well, lookie here! The military! They should be able to help you two out, I reckon.” 

As soon as Ochako saw Tomura step out of the door of that tank, she let out a mournful sob. She twisted in Katsuki’s grip, her necklace flashing in the sunlight. The beam caught across Tomura’s face, attracting his attention to the engine compartment just in time to see Ochako spring out the back of the train and take off down yet another set of tracks. 

“Get her!” 

As several military men started running down the track, Ochako heard Sorahiko yell, “Run, youngster!” and then steam exploded from the side of the train, enveloped the men in a white cloud. “Get after ‘er, Katsuki, my boy!” 

“Thanks, old man, I owe ya one!” Katsuki shouted, and Ochako heard the frantic pounding of his feet thundering over her own. She dashed as fast as she could over the wooden slats, her flats thumping against the wood in the rhythm of her heart pounding in her chest. Pirates, Tomura— it didn’t matter who it was, she knew the pendant couldn’t fall into their hands. Whatever secret it held that was so great could only bring misfortune in the hands of the greedy. Tears bloomed in her eyes as she ran. 

It’s cursed, she thought. And I’m cursed with it. I can’t let Katsuki be cursed by it, too!

“Turn around, Katsuki!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Please, don’t follow me anymore! I can’t… I won’t let you get hurt because of me!” He ignored her, and the beat of his footsteps increased. Ochako tried to do so too, but her lungs were burning already, and her breath came in ragged pants. “Katsuki, please! I don’t—Ah!” 

He grabbed her arm, wrenching her into a spin. She whirled on her heel and he grabbed her by her shoulders to give her a vicious shake. The tears dropped from her eyes as her head flopped back and forth. Then, he slapped his palms to her cheeks hard enough to sting. His red eyes bored into her own, blazing with an intensity she’d never seen, even from the sun. 

“Ochako, listen to me.” She’d expected him to yell, but his voice was soft, so soft it made tears spring to her eyes anew. “Stop. Just stop.” His voice cracked with an emotion that made a low whine bubble up from within the depths of her chest. He stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs in a featherlight touch. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I don’t care how many times you ask, how many times you run— I’m gonna follow you.” 

He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, then leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. 

“Ever since you floated down out of the sky… I’ve been with you all the way, Ochako, even if it means I have to go into that damn sky I hate so much. I am with you all the way.”

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

[illyrian-bitch-queen]

Proposal

Enjoy this little thing that I just found buried in my google docs from like last year.

I have another feysand fic ready, but I don’t want to post it so close to the next book’s release date, so have a little angsty Rowaelin :) (Don’t worry, there’s fluff at the end)

**

I had never driven a standard before I met Rowan.

He had been my boyfriend for a year when he decided to teach me to drive his expensive stick-shift car. I'd been asking for months to learn, and he finally conceded one night when he'd had a couple drinks despite planning otherwise. I'd been stone-cold sober, and should have been able to drive us without a problem, had I ever been taught to drive his car. He started teaching me that night on the way home, knowing full-well that he wasn't in a good state to drive.

I stalled it at three separate stop lights, and twice at one, but we made it home in one piece--including the clutch, although Rowan insisted he was going to have to buy a new one after letting me drive.

When he was sober, Rowan’s teaching was impeccable, and I had become a fairly decent driver within a week. It had become as natural as driving an automatic after only a month.

A year later, and I was racing down back roads like I'd been driving Rowan’s car my whole life.

I was talking animatedly to my friend, Nehemia, over the phone when I wrecked that same car.

The phone was sitting in my cup holder, flipped upside down so I could have it on speaker and talk hands-free. It was dark, the only light coming from the screen of my phone and the dash lights. I was telling her about the lunch I'd had with my cousin, Aedion, the day before. We'd met at a little cafe for lunch during our break, and he'd been trying to get me to set him up with another of my friends, Lysandra.

“I don't understand why he can't just talk to her, you know? Why does he insist on getting me stuck in the middle of it?”

I heard Nehemia hum in understanding. “He's a male. They're like that. This way, if it goes wrong, he can say it was you, not him. That you set them up wrong.”

I growled in annoyance as I pressed my foot a bit harder on the gas, tapping my fingers against the wheel. “He's such an a--”

I choked on my words as headlights, seemingly brighter than the sun, suddenly appeared right before me. I swore under my breath, flicking off my high beams and sliding back across the yellow line that I'd gone over to take the curve easier.

The other car didn't give the same courtesy, although it certainly had plenty of time.

Everything went quickly after I realized that the other, larger, car was about to hit me.

I think I saw the driver’s face, but I couldn't be sure. I imagined that I saw a short beard and long hair.

The only thing I was sure of was that everything went to hell, and that my car was hurtling straight for a tree. I had enough thought to swing the wheel sharply to angle the car before everything became loud and then went horribly quiet.

I sat there, not moving an inch, not feeling any pain or fear. I blinked once, then twice.

Then the world came back, slowly. I heard Nehemia calling my name, saying she was going to call 9-1-1.

Good, I thought absently. That's what she was supposed to do. But I found myself stuttering out a ‘no’. She questioned it, asking if I was alright.

“I'm fine,” I said shakily. “Don't call anyone. Let me call Rowan first. It might not be bad enough to make a claim or anything. I have to go so I can call him.”

My voice was shaky and weak. It was a miracle when Nehemia agreed. My hands were shaking as I went to my favorites and tapped Rowan’s name. The kissy-face emojis next to it seemed mocking now, too playful for a situation like this.

I was beginning to feel a throbbing ache in my legs and head, and a dull burn in my back and neck. It didn't help the shaking or the surrealism of the situation as I finally allowed myself to look over to the passenger side. I'd known, somewhere inside, that it was going to be bad, despite what I'd told Nehemia.

But I wasn't prepared--could never be prepared--for the wreck of twisted metal and shattered glass. It was lit up only by the dome light that had turned on, by some miracle, and shadows were cast by the jagged metal, like they were clawed fingers reaching for me..

I'd narrowly missed hitting the tree head-on. Instead, the front passenger corner of the car had hit it. A low whine left my throat when I heard Rowan’s voice, but it was only his voicemail.

“Call me back,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper. “It's really important.”

Then I hit end, and I stared at the wreck. I knew that I should get out of the car. Any time the hood was crushed, I knew I was supposed to get out in case the engine caught fire.

But I couldn't bring myself to move. I had totaled the car. There was no doubt about it. The whole front end was folded into itself and the passenger side was crumpled in so that I could barely see my purse sitting on the seat, buried under crushed metal and glass.

Even the driver’s side wasn't unaffected.

The steering wheel had been crushed forward, trapping my legs under the dash. I swallowed thickly, shifting in my seat to see how much room I had. I groaned at even the slight movement and stilled.

My whole body ached as if every inch of my flesh was bruised. I put a hand to my forehead and frowned. I must have hit my head. My hand came away glistening with red, but I didn't care about that at the moment. I didn't care about the aches either.

They were temporary. What I'd done to Rowan's car...well, it didn't look like there was any coming back from it.

I dropped my head back, feeling my eyes begin to grow hot and prickly. I blinked quickly, refusing to cry. This was my fault. I'd wrecked Rowan's car. There was no time to engage in self-pity. I needed to call someone, and I needed to get out of this damn car before I broke down looking at it.

I reached for the door with a shaking hand. I had to hit it with my shoulder to get the latch to release, and I couldn't clamp down on the small, gasping sob that accompanied the extra effort needed.

I had just wrecked Rowan’s car. The car he's had since he was a teenager, the one that he never let anyone drive--not even his best friend, Lorcan--until I came alone.

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Rowan was going to be so upset when he saw what I'd done. No, first he was going to be angry when he saw it. Then he would be upset, and probably never trust me again.

I tried to slide my legs upwards, but my knees kept hitting the crumpled dash. With the door open, I started to twist myself sideways, wiggling my legs as I turned my upper body out the door, my hair falling into my eyes and blinding me as I tried to struggle my way out. Between the hair and tears and the darkness, I had no idea if I was even making progress. My thighs had just a little space to move, but not enough to bend to let my knees out.

I finally managed to turn so that my hip was against the seat, my lower back twisted painfully and one of my palms braced on the grass to the side of the car.

I began to force my legs to turn despite the narrow space, feeling my right knee twang painfully. I'd injured it when I was sixteen, and it always bothered me before any other part of my body, and now it was warning me that my legs definitely weren't supposed to bend like that.

Finally, with a last desperate turn, my left leg slid out of the space between the dash and seat, falling down onto the mat by the pedals.

I gasped out, reaching my other hand to brace myself against the grass as well as the angle changed, stressing my right leg further.

I planted my hands firmly and used them to tug myself forward, sighing in relief when my right leg fell to join the left. I twisted onto my back now that I had space, my shoulders resting on the grass, and pulled my legs free from the car.

I didn't look at the whole thing, I couldn't see it all. I reached back in once I got to my knees and grabbed my phone. Bracing myself on the door, I pulled myself to my feet, my knees trembling and weak like they were made of paper.

I stumbled away from the car, away from the light and towards the dark road, dialing Rowan once more.

God, he's going to hate me, I thought. He still didn't pick up, and there was a moment where I didn't know what to do. Then I hit the second name in my favorites list.

Aedion picked up on the second ring. “Hey, cuz. Did you talk to Lys for me already?”

“Dee,” I breathed, an old nickname from when I was seven and couldn't pronounce his full name. It had stuck until high school, but I rarely used the name anymore. Now, it was the first thing out of my mouth when I heard his voice.

“Aelin,” Aedion said, his voice suddenly alarmed. “Aelin, what's going on?”

I breathed out shakily, trying to steady my breath and shaking limbs as I stumbled away from the car, a hand to my forehead. “God, Aedion,” I said, my voice cracking. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I just wrecked Rowan’s car.” My voice was a mess, a mixture of tears and fear. “I can't even think about what happened, there was too much too fast and I don't know what to tell Rowan, but he's not picking up and--”

“Lin, calm down,” Aedion said. “Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?”

I shook my head, biting my lip hard. “No. I don’t know. I was stuck but I got my legs out. My head is bleeding, but I think it's just a little cut. But that's not the point--”

“Are you away from the car?”

I paused before sighing in defeat.

“Yes.”

“Alright. Sit down on the side of the road and tell me where you are. I'm in my car now ready to go get you.”

“I'm on that first curve on the backroad that goes to my house from the office.”

“Alright. I'm only five minutes away. I'll be there in three.”

I could hear the engine of his car over the phone as he continued to talk, asking me if I was sore anywhere, if I thought I'd broken anything or if I was bleeding anywhere but my head.

He was there in only two minutes, his brakes squealing as he pulled onto the side of the road a safe distance before the curve, a steep decline behind me to where Rowan’s car was wrapped around the tree. He threw himself out of the car, not even taking the keys out of the ignition. I stood slowly, wincing at the aches that seemed to have increased since I sat down, as he jogged over, eyeing me frantically. He pulled me into a hug as soon as he reached me, holding me tight enough that I thought my ribs might crack, but I didn't mind. I hugged him back just as tightly.

“Rowan's going to hate me,” I whispered, still shaking. Aedion pushed me back, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

“Rowan is not going to hate you. Rowan loves you, as little sense as that makes.” I rolled my eyes, but the joke managed to make me smile a little. He was serious again after that. “Aelin, Rowan is going to take one look at that car and he's going to hug you and never let go.”

I sniffled and nodded. He sure sounded right. But I couldn't see Rowan not getting upset about this. Of course he'd be concerned about me. But my scrapes and bruises weren't permanent. His car…

I let Aedion pull me back to the grass. He sat beside me, an arm around me. “What do we do?” I asked.

I'd never been in a situation like this. Were we supposed to call someone? Do something?

“That depends on what happened, Lin,” he said quietly. “Was there another car or did you just...drift off?”

“There was someone else,” I said. “A guy. I think he had a beard?” I rubbed a hand on my forehead, avoiding the stinging cut. “He was almost completely over the line and he had his high beams on. He didn't try to cross back over or dim his lights. I swerved off to avoid hitting him, but I went off the road. Then...I don't know. I don't know if I hit the break or if I kept going or...all I remember clearly is seeing the car going straight towards a tree. I turned the wheel hard so I didn't hit it head on, but I still hit it.”

Aedion’s arm around me was like a security blanket. “You did the best you could, Aelin. Everything was right. This isn't your fault, I promise. Do you remember anything else about the other car?”

I shook my head. “Long hair, maybe? A short beard? I know it was a man.”

Aedion nodded. “If someone drove you off the road then we have to file a police report. I'll call them. You wait here and try to call Rowan again.”

I nodded, feeling dread settle into my gut. I wasn't sure if it was from fear that he wouldn't pick up or fear that he would.

I tapped his name again, and got his voicemail once more. My eyes burned as I dropped my phone onto the grass in front of me. I dropped my head into my hands. Yes. It had been fear that he wouldn't pick up. I just wanted to hear his voice. His voice when it wasn't formal and forced like it was in his voicemail recording.

Aedion was standing a little ways off, talking somberly on the phone when mine began to vibrate before me. I picked it up quickly, my heart racing when I saw Rowan’s picture pop up.

I didn't take even a second to look at the picture I'd taken with him two weeks ago. We'd been at the beach and he'd been giving a real smile, one he so rarely gave when it wasn't just the two of us. Aedion had snapped the picture just in time. Usually, I could stare at it for hours.

But now, I answered so quickly I barely even saw a flicker of it.

“Fireheart, what's going on? You sounded like you were crying. I was in a meeting and my phone was on silent. I just got the calls and voicemail. Are you okay?”

I broke down then. The sound of his voice and the concern in it was too much.

“I'm sorry,” I choked out, dropping my head into my free hand. “I tried to call you first, but then I called Aedion and he's talking to the police right now but I really need to see you, please--”

“Aelin, slow down,” Rowan said, his voice smooth and calm. “You need to slow down, okay? I can barely understand you. What happened?”

“I got in an accident.”

“How bad?” I could about hear the wince in his voice. “Fender-bender or--”

“I hit a tree,” I croaked. “The guy was going to hit me, so I swerved and I hit a tree and now Aedion is calling the police and you weren't picking up and--”

Suddenly, Rowan was swearing, cutting me off.

“Fireheart, are you alright?” He said finally. “Are you hurt? I'm on my way now, where are you?” I would have laughed any other day about how similar he and my cousin had reacted.

“I'm okay,” I whimpered. I gave him the same description I'd given Aedion, but my voice was weaker this time.

“Aelin, I'll be there as fast as I can drive, okay? I’m at the office, so I'm only about ten minutes from you. Just try to calm down, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” I breathed, closing my eyes. There was a brief pause before he ended the call.

I set the phone down and dropped my head between my knees.

“Aelin.” I looked up at Aedion. He stood right beside me. “Did you talk to him?”

I nodded. “He didn't yell at you, did he?” He asked it like he knew the answer, like he knew that he didn't. I shook my head anyway.

“He doesn't yell. He never does. He says people only yell when they don't have the vocabulary or intellect to talk things out. He heard it somewhere, I think, years ago. He says it whenever I raise my voice.”

Aedion sat next to me again with a snort. “You must hear that a lot then.”

I flicked a hand at him irritably. He caught it, frowning at the blood there. He released me and fished around in his pockets for a minute before producing a crumpled tissue. “It's clean, I promise.”

I raised a doubtful brow, but took it and pressed it to my forehead, swiping the blood dripping along the way.

“This is a mess,” I breathed. Aedion pressed his lips together tightly.

“You missed an opportunity at a very great pun.”

“I swear to god, if you go there--”

“This is a wreck.”

“I'm disowning you as my cousin,” I said flatly.

“That would make everything pretty awkward when I start dating Lysandra,” Aedion taunted, bumping my shoulder against his.

I almost smiled, but couldn't bring myself to. I was still shaking a little, but now all the aches and bruises were starting to really hurt. My body felt stiff and battered, and my stomach had found a permanent resting spot in my throat, my heart dropping to my feet.

“I know he's worried now, but what about when he realizes that I'm fine?” I let my eyes close, exhaustion washing over me. “He's had that car since high school. He loves that thing as much as he loves me. If not more.”

“He does not love a goddamn car more than you,” Aedion said sharply. “If he was a guy that would pick a car over your well-being, then I would have never given him my blessing to--” he blinked quickly, clearing his throat. His explanation was hurried after that, an answer to my confused glance. “To date you. You know how you guys were friends forever before you ever dated?”

I felt my brows furrow as I looked at him. “He asked for your blessing to date me? He never said anything.” I huffed, turning away. “He would be that antiquated. Fucking old man.”

Aedion chuckled. “He's only twenty-eight, Aelin.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but you are twenty-six and I'm only twenty-one. I think that a seven year gap is plenty for me to call him old. You too. Five years makes you elderly.”

“Or it makes you a child,” Aedion countered.

I just shrugged, my snark momentarily running dry.

Aedion ran a hand up and down my back soothingly. “It's all going to be fine, Aelin. I know you don't believe me right now, but it's okay. You're not the first person to wreck a car.”

“I'm the first person to wreck that car,” I countered.

Aedion shrugged. “So you broke it in. That's fine.”

I laughed weakly, dropping my head against his shoulder. We stayed there until headlights flashed over the hill. Rowan parked just behind Aedion. He'd ridden with Lorcan today, since they both needed to be at the office late, and had left me his car to take to work. Lorcan seemed to be absent now, and I wondered briefly how he was going to get home.

Then Rowan was crouching down in front of me, his hands resting on my cheeks and his eyes intent on mine. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his pupils blown wide in panic.

He took the tissue from me, collecting my hand in one of his, and looked at the cut.

I noticed that Aedion had moved away, giving us some space.

Rowan ran his thumb over the skin around the cut. “Oh, Fireheart,” he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips firmly against my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids, and finally my mouth.

He pulled away, seeming to be a little calmer now. “What happened, Aelin?”

“I wrecked it,” I choked out, feeling my tears returned as I grasped desperately at his hands. “I'm so sorry. He came over the hill and he was going to hit me and I tried to move away but the trees were too close.” I paused to take a shuddering breath as he smoothed my hair back from my face, his eyes shining in the light from his headlights.

“It's completely wrecked,” I cried. “I'm sorry, Rowan. I'm so sorry. I know how important it is to you, and I just destroyed it and--”

“Aelin,” Rowan said sternly, reaching for my hands again and gripping them tightly. “I do not give a single fuck about my car. If it bothers you that much, I can afford to get everything fixed. They may have to start from scratch and clear the front of it out, but I can get it fixed if I really wanted to.” He shook his head, his eyes meeting mine firmly.

“You, I can't replace. I can't just pop over to the garage and get you fixed, no matter how much money I offered. If something had happened to you, I wouldn't know what to do. I would be completely lost, Aelin. So the car? I don't fucking care about the car. You're here, and that's the most important thing to me.”

He pulled on my hands, hard enough to pull me into his chest. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and back, holding me to him even tighter than Aedion had. Despite the pain that was now throbbing through my limbs and bones, I sunk into his embrace. My muscles protested as I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding onto him with all my strength.

I finally stopped shaking as he held me, one hand toying with the ends of my hair while he swayed a little with me, the motion more soothing than I would have expected.

I had relaxed into him, my eyes closed, by the time the police arrived. Rowan and Aedion managed to get them to agree to a statement tomorrow morning instead of ‘harassing a young woman while she's in shock’.

The paramedics that had arrived still had to look me over, but I got to stay with Rowan and Aedion for that. After being diagnosed with a possible concussion and being warned to keep an eye on the bruising along my legs and the strain in my right knee--as if I hadn't been keeping an eye on it my whole life--they agreed to let me go home.

Rowan didn't so much as go over to the car to examine the damage before we left. He didn't ask anyone about a garage or a tow. He just helped me to my feet and walked me to Lorcan’s car to ride home.

He took the curves slow and held my hand the whole ride home, watching me every few moments to make sure I wasn't uncomfortable.

I wasn't sure if it was the shock or the fact that I wasn't the one behind the wheel now, but I wasn't scared to be sitting in a car again.

Or maybe it was Rowan beside me that put me at ease.

Rowan, who hadn't even looked twice at the damage I'd done to his expensive car, who hadn't allowed me to feel guilty for even one moment, who had never deserved the fear I'd had of his reaction because he'd never failed to show me how much he cared, how strongly he loved me.

We'd been through so much together. It was stupid of me to think he'd ever care what I'd done to his car, of all things. Of course he didn't care. Not when I had come out of it okay.

I would feel the same way about him. He could set my house, my car, everything on fire, and I wouldn't care. Well, I would certainly care, but I would still love him.

It had been unfair of me to expect any worse from him. He had never given me a reason to think that there was anything I could do, any mistake I could make, that would make him stop loving me.

I found out just how much hadn’t changed between us only a week after the accident.

I was still sore, which was apparently normal after car accidents, and my upper legs were bruised so darkly that I had taken to wearing sundresses and loose rompers to avoid any heavy fabric pressing against them.

Considering my wardrobe changes, I was dressed a bit nicer than usual when I went to a baseball game with Rowan a week later. I had a white sundress on with a baseball cap to support our team. My usual Yankees shirt and plain shorts had been retired for this game in favor of the dress, and I felt too dressed-up for a baseball game. Rowan had assured me that I was dressed perfectly, even while Lysandra and Aedion were snickering in the background. Despite their suspicious laughter, the game went well, and the bruises stayed hidden under the dress’ light hem. And the outfit ended up being perfect after all, for more than just the bruises.

Indeed, the dress looked beautiful in the pictures Aedion had taken while Rowan proposed to me after the game, at our favorite spot in the park. It looked even better with the ring that my new fiance placed on my finger.

It looked best with the broad, silly smile that I couldn’t force away if I’d tried.

[codango]

For the prompt thing: #16. You ran over my foot! Fandom is dealer's choice. :D

It’s Cool That You’re Sorry (1,297 words)

Adam was seconds away from getting fired. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was going to happen. If those Aglionby boys ran that stupid RC car in front of his liquor cart one more time, he was going to get fired because he will have destroyed it.

An RC car on the country club’s golf course would have been grounds for removal…if the offenders were anyone other than Ronan Lynch and Joseph Kavinsky. They’d gotten a couple of glares from some of the older club members, but once the gray-hairs realized who they were glaring at, the indignant huffs quickly turned to good-natured chuckles.

“Boys will be boys,” one portly gentleman in plaid had said nervously.

Adam loathed that. Only Aglionby boys got to be boys. Check that…Aglionby boys who weren’t at the academy on scholarship. Once he graduated, he was going to buy the cheapest ticket out of Henrietta, Virginia, and—

The RC car darted in front of his cart.

Adam closed his eyes. Clenched his jaw. And braked for the damn thing.

Fuck, he hated how badly he needed this job.

Laughter floated to him on the summer breeze.

Well. Perhaps a polite warning was worth a try. At least, once he did completely lose it, he would have the pointless defense that he had asked them nicely to stop.

Adam set one foot on the turf and leaned out of the liquor cart. “Excuse me—”

The RC car darted around the cart and ran right over the top of his pristine white tennis shoe. They’d apparently driven it through mud at some point. He was never going to get that out.

He looked over at the duo, snickering at him from several yards away. Kavinsky was nearly doubled over with laughter, delighted to have caught his attention. Lynch stared at him, eyes bright even from so far away, a half-smile on his cocky-ass face.

Adam saw Lynch move his thumb over the controller. He heard the little car race around the front of his cart.

He let off the brake.

Crunch.

It’s an odd sensation, feeling high on adrenaline and sick to your gut at the same time. Adam simultaneously wanted to undo what he’d just done and hear that definitive crunch one more time.

“The fuck?!”

Adam blinked his way back into the present to see Kavinsky throw his sunglasses onto the ground. He ripped off his baggy button-down and flung it on top of the glasses. “You are so fucked, beer boy! I’m gonna—”

But Lynch put a hand on his arm just as Kavinsky prepared to launch himself at the liquor cart.

Adam couldn’t hear anything but a low murmur. Kavinsky spluttered—a conglomeration of “Fuck that!” and “You fuckin’ better!” and “Yeah? Yeah? I don’t think so!”—but eventually gathered up his shirt and sunglasses. With one last glare Adam’s direction, Kavinsky stomped off toward the clubhouse. He didn’t miss the opportunity to flip off an elderly couple teeing up at the fourth hole.

Lynch watched him go for a few moments. Then turned toward Adam and started walking.

Adam caught his breath and got out of his cart. Every nerve ending under his skin was alight; sitting was not an option. Besides, Lynch was tall. He was tall, he had a shaved head, and a tattoo creeping out of his collar, and he always looked two seconds from spitting in your face.

Better to face that standing up.

Lynch came to a stop a couple feet from him. He stuck a hand in the back pocket of his black skinny jeans and rested the RC controller on his hip. He looked for all the world like he owned the country club, Aglionby Academy, and fuck it, all of Henrietta while he was at it. Blue eyes ran the length of Adam, no doubt taking in the sweaty patches on his staff polo. Lynch smirked when he got to the smear of mud on Adam’s shoe.

“Fuck,” was the first thing he said. He looked up, and his grin was softer than Adam was expecting. “Sorry about that.”

All the fight left Adam in a breath. Confusion reigned supreme in its wake. He shook himself. “It’s cool that you’re sorry. You gonna buy me a new pair of work shoes to go with that apology?” Be tough. Stand up. They never learn if you don’t.

Lynch lifted his chin and gave Adam an appraising stare. “You think I owe you a pair of shoes?”

“You think you don’t?” Adam crossed his arms. “You ran over my foot! I’m never gonna get these clean. And if you think for one second I’m gonna be allowed to come to work with—”

“Sure.”

Adam ran out of steam. A gurgle reminded him to close his mouth. “Uh…I don’t—?”

“Sure.” Lynch shrugged. “I’ll buy you some shoes. When you wanna go?”

Adam peered at him, certain he was missing something. “G-go?” Go…fight?

Lynch rolled his eyes, but Adam goggled to see a blush creep high over his cheekbones. “Go get shoes,” Lynch scoffed. “Unless you want me to pick ‘em out myself? I will personally find you the ugliest shit.”

“You…” Adam licked his lips, terrified he was misunderstanding. “You…want to go shopping? Together?”

Lynch made a tsking sound and glanced away at nothing. “You want shoes or not?”

“I…” Adam couldn’t afford new shoes. Not the kind they wanted you to wear at the country club anyway. But…oh geez, what if this was some kind of new…practical joke or something? He studied Lynch suspiciously. It would be just like Kavinsky to try to con someone into thinking they were safe and then pull some kind of…

Lynch’s eyes cut toward him and then away again quickly. Adam stared. The tips of his ears were pink.

Oh. My god?

Adam relaxed his stance a little, cocked his head to the side. “Um. I don’t work Thursday.”

Lynch’s shoulders tensed, but he looked at Adam directly. “Thought you couldn’t work with those shoes.” His voice was rough. Defensive.

Adam shrugged. “I have a pair that’ll get me a lecture. But as long as I promise to never wear ‘em again, they’ll let me work.”

Lynch chewed his lip. Adam felt a weird little flutter in his chest. What the fuck was this nonsense? “You don’t need to get a lecture cuz Kavinsky’s an asshole,” Lynch said finally. “What time you get off? Let’s go tonight.”

Adam wanted to smile. How weird was that? Smile, at Ronan Lynch?! Almost to remind himself who he was even talking to, Adam said, “You were the one with the controller. You’re the asshole who ran over my foot.” He reached out a hand and tapped the controller propped on Lynch’s hip. He didn’t know what possessed him, really. “You’ve even still got the damn thing.”

A slow smile played at the corner of Lynch’s mouth. That goddamn confidence was coming back into his eyes. “So maybe I’m an asshole too.”

Adam felt heat in his own face now. He turned and swung himself back into the cart. “Five. I’ll be ready in front of the club at quarter after.” He braved a look at Lynch. “Pick me up in that fancy Beamer of yours.”

Lynch backed away from the cart, tongue running over his back teeth, doing a horrible job of hiding a smile. “You’re getting more expensive already.”

Adam’s heart was going a mile a minute. “Yeah, well. I’m willing to bet Kavinsky’s gonna make you pay for his toy car, so.”

“Oh, right.” Lynch looked at the controller in his hand. There was the smirk Adam was used to seeing at school. “Drive over it one more time.”

[abohemianinthewood]

A UnaRobby Manifesto

the UnaRobby

that is I

the Loner

the Una-Robby Manifesto

on Hypocrisy & Pain

     Since I know a little about alot,this will no doubt be alot about a little.

But before all that follows, this happened:

 There & back again(with apologies to Tolkien)

I was 19 in the summer of '74.

My girlfriend had gone to work with a traveling carnival.

I was unhappy with where my band (Columbus) was at and life in New Oxford in general.

I had been to visit friends in West Lake (Charles),Louisiana in the past and knew that there was access to cheap pot,psilocybin mushrooms,and possible work on the shrimp boats.

One sunny afternoon,in June or July,while Mom worked in her garden unaware of my intent,I packed my knapsack,strapped my sleeping bag to same,took the short walk thru the Wood to Rt 15 and stuck out my thumb.

I was on my way to the adventure of my lifetime,and,I found out in my 30's ,in Mom's eyes,running away from home!

I caught the Lincoln Highway,headed West and got picked up by a friend from New Oxford who was riding with a girl I did not know who later became the mother of my children and they carried me to the other side of Gettysburg.

All along this journey I got picked up by a multitude of different types,from old ladies to young kids to business men.

I shall relate the ones that have stuck in my mind.

Outside of D.C.,probably in Virginia,a long-hair in a VW micro-bus headed for Florida picked me up and took me almost to Jacksonville where I planned on getting Rt 10 to West Lake. He stopped to visit his sister in backwoods Florida.She lived in a Spanish Moss covered area and treated me to tea and energy bars for the next leg of my trip.

That leg was arduous! Long,endless,hot tar,road construction,endless heat exhausting.A young girl in a small car is in my memory from this part.She had the vehicle jam-packed with plants(South American,I believe) which had something to do with her botanical studies in University.She also had a small dog.He had been on the passenger seat until I got in,when she put him on the floor at her feet.He kept sitting on the brake pedal:)

It was night and I was tired,riding in some businessman's car as we crossed over New Orleans . The closest I ever got to that magical city was eyeing it's lights from a car seat on a bridge.

I landed at the foot of the Huey Long bridge,on a beach,early morning of the third day of my trip.I remember a few people cavorting in the water and a bench that looked comfortable,finding a phone booth and calling home to let Mom know where I was.She said,"I figured that's where you went".

I looked up my friends,one of which was living in a tent in a local store's clerk's yard.I moved in with him.We snuck into the house with the air-conditioning whenever Gloria,the clerk, felt kind-hearted.

I signed up for the shrimpers and while waiting to hear back drank a lot of wine and beer and hung out in bars with dirt floors where we were the only whiteboys and fancy discos with sassy high school girls from Lake Charles("Oh,but yes!")

Near the end of August I was tired of waiting to work (and actually not feeling like it),so I repacked my sack,was given a bag of peanut butter sandwiches for the road and headed West on my thumb again.

Somewhere around Houston a strange fellow with a colonoscopy bag and a desire to re-establish himself,gave me a ride all the way to Colorado Springs where my sister was living  with her future husband and attending college. Along the way,he picked up two college students who let us stay in their dorm overnite where we drank beer and ate pizza.The driver tried to get them to let him stay there.He did the same in Colorado Springs and my future lawyer frankly told him "no".

I believe I stayed there two days.They lived at foot of Pike's Peak and Ric took me for a drive along the old mountain trails.I had spent the only money I had on a bottle of whiskey,so Barbe lent me $10 to get me home.

She went to school in Denver so she took me  there to catch Rt 70 East  and homeward.

i passed by the Gateway Arch  on foot,in the rain at night.There was also some major ball game nearby at the time.

A carful of Stoners from Weirton,WVa,had been to Indianapolis to pick up a friend and take her home.Somewhere in Indiana they gave me a ride.Her name was Charley and we crashed at her house,they treated me to beers at a local smokey bar and then headed for Three Rivers Stadium to see Suzi Quatro in a daytime concert. i'm quessing they paid my way, cuz I roamed the park area smoking with the crowd and scoring joints to take back as payment to my new-found friends. They then arraigned for a van full of their friends to put me as close to the PA turnpike as possible.

It was raining as i approached the Harrisburg exit.My current ride was traveling on thru so he let me off along the pike and I scaled the fence to get past the toll booths.

i found a phone booth and called home.

Mom came and got me.

i found out later that the Shrimpboats had called for me the day after I left.

And then all this...

http://lonersbloggenses.blogspot.com/2020/07/a-bohemian-in-suburbia.html

Prelude:FEB 28,2009

I’ve been back on ‘theFarm’ for ten years!

I came here to live with Dad in my old Dodge pick-up with a daughter,two cats,Dusky & Grayson,& Lena.The cats died or wandered off,Leenie is buried,Robyn grew up and moved to Boston and I watched my Dad die of cancer.

So,now it’s just me & Japhy and I’m lettin’ him take it easy in his old age.

It’s funny,as a twelve year old boy roaming thru these woods and fields,I never pictured a greying,old man with arthritic hands and a bad back,but today,all I could see was that twelve year old drivin’ a tractor,plantin’ corn,balin’ hay and haulin’ rocks off the fields to pave the back path to the hay fields( which now is beyond gettin back to usefulness,short of gettin a dozer)…and the damn kid is bitchin’ ‘bout the hard work!

Why couldn’t he see what he had?

                                                        2011 & on until morning:

I am a solitary man.I have spent my life putting others at arm’s length and reveling in the fact that I am a Loner. This makes me alone.

While keeping that mind-set,I yearn for the companionship of others,yet cringe at the aspect of going out into the real world and being amongst them.

I am the Father of daughters,the son of a Mother,a brother of sisters and hold the role of the Feminine in the highest regard while also feeling the camaraderie of my fellow males in the degradation of that gender.

I am a child of the ‘60’s,a young man of the ‘70’s,a responsible man of the ‘80’s,a falling and re-discovering man of the ‘90’s and an aging man in this Millennium.

I am sure of myself and I am confused.

I hold dear the radicalism of my youth,yet feel that nothing has changed and i have not been the change i wished to see.

I am a patriot who hates my country.

I am a Socialist and a Communist who holds no regard for those countries existing under said ideologies.

I am an arthritic old man who wants to quit,but can’t.

I worship my body and i abuse it,

i love Nature and I abuse it.

i believe in a work ethic,but i am lazy.

i believe in Solidarity,but prefer Solitude.

I am a Bohemian in the Wood.

4/4/15

a puppy grew up just the other day

and he looked at me,eyes wide,as if to say

I know that it’s a holiday

but if it’s OK with you I’d like to go out and play

cuz there’s squirrels and birds and rabbits and stuff

and laying on this couch ain’t enuf,dad

you know I’d rather be out there

cuz there’s cats in the barn and deer in  the woods

little tennis balls and poop that tastes good

I’ll be playin’ hard and you know that I should

and I’d sure like ya out here with me,dad

ya know I want to be with you…

KIKI

the year was 2005.

my dad died that summer.

my daughter informed me that when she went back to school she was getting an apartment and staying in Boston.

I noticed a sign on my way home from work one day.

it was a board advertising low-priced massages from therapy students at a school in the basement of my bank.

seeing it everyday got me thinking that that would be a nice treat for myself .

every Friday morning after work,what a great way to start the weekend!

I never took the first steps and probably never would have,but,I mentioned my thoughts to my daughters and that Christmas,received a gift certificate to said place!

that lead me to getting a weekly therapeutic massage,every Friday ,after work,with a nice woman,close to my age.

turned out the school owner was a distant relative.

I became a regular in a friendly and relaxing environment.

that summer my regular girl graduated and took work in Maryland (a long drive away)

I had several fill-ins and then was introduced to a young girl who became my new regular.

she was as old as my youngest daughter.

a new mom

black earrings and hair and eye-liner.gothic/emo/punk

very quiet,but,as weeks went by,we began talking,getting to know a bit about each other and her skills impressed and relaxed me as she learned and became proficient at her chosen art.

she graduated and started work at a spa.

I followed her there.

we got to know each other even better.

several years later,she became pregnant with her second child and left the profession to concentrate on her family.

we remained in contact,as I continued therapy with other people at the spa.

one day she asked if I wanted to come to her home as a client,as her daughter was getting to need less constant care and her husband was available to watch the kids while I received my massage.

that was one of the happiest messages I ever got!

I continued my therapy with her.

i got to know her family and our friendship blossomed until one day she stated that she considered me to be her best friend.

incredible!

so,that day that my daughters bought me a gift certificate for a free therapeutic massage,they got me much more.

they gave me a friend.  

7/24/2015

I try so hard to, not be a part of, that it hurts

8/21/16-thoughts after a tourista wknd…sometimes, I suppose, one needs to get out amongst the masses in order to remember why we retreat from them.

10/15/16-the Ides of October

fellow employee:“why don’t you work overtime?”

me:”why should I?”

fellow employee:”to make more money”…

and there-in lies the problem with Society as a whole.The making of money.The desire for more, more, more.

I was born into and manage to exist in a capitalist World,that sees the acquirement of money as the end goal.

The acquisition of money leads to crime,imprisonment,poverty,war and all the plagues of man.

I need to make money to supply myself with basic needs and I keep my wants to a minimum.

Why would anyone need to float on the oceans with access to a ferris wheel and a waterslide!

why would anyone need a home that has gold walls!

why do towers need to reach to the sky!

a roof, food and modest entertainment and I am satisfied.

OH! and trees.

Dec 10th,2016

Several friends have been posting pix of their younger years and that has tended to make me feel nostalgic.

I have few regrets in my Life,so far, and I come here to mention only one of those.

I do have many ‘what ifs’…. What if I had opted for college rather than the Work Force?

What if I never tried drugs? What if I had spent that summer in the Village instead of West Lake ? What if my hands had slipped under those railroad bridges or on that hair trigger?…

But,I digress.

The regret that I have of my wild, irresponsible, late teen-early twenties is that there was no Chronicler.

No one carried cameras!

I would love to see pictures of Jeff and Dan of my first work crew. Are there pix of the rock band,Columbus and when we jammed at Joe’s garage? Hell,I don’t even have any of my Ludwigs :(

What about congregations on the square,Mandy, the inside of the house I shared with Denny and Gilbert and the freaky flock of friends who frequented same?

The apartment I moved into with my first serious girlfriend,Andy & Bev,Bear,the ‘great whiskey and mescaline party’.

Those two trailers, the keggers, the shooting galleries, hardwood floors,poopy sheepdogs,marijuana window boxes and gardens.

Lep’s hearse,Tim’s John Deere Harley,the VW station wagon, my ’64 Valiant.

Terry Lee,Betty pregnant…

But,nobody carried cameras, so I must hope that the images in brain suffice.

8/27/17

I have been retired since Nov.18th of last year and I am diggin’ it!

More on this later☺

12/9/2017

Definition of isolate: to set apart from others;

Definition of solitude: the quality or state of being alone or remote from society

A difference in terms.

I do not live my Life set apart from others as I am more-so in seclusion.

I am and Live alone.

I enjoy my Solitude. In fact revel in it.

I do not feel set apart from others, merely living apart from them.

I reach out to and interact with others and am happy in doing so, yet do not need them to make me feel complete.

I function quite well on my own.

Alone

Not lonely.

I cannot say that I do not need human contact.

I just am not consumed by that need.

Perhaps, I come across as elitist or misanthropic.However,

My Life is not better than any other’s and I do not hate them for how they live.

I can just find contentment on my own.

This past year I have had moments which can only be described as pure Bliss caused only by my contact with Nature around me.

2/24/18

Thoughts on a dreary day.

I have noticed a movement amongst Boomers to not be called Senior citizens.

They see the word senior as denoting age and deprecation.

Fact: with age comes a certain amount of deprecation. We can’t escape that.

We can ,however embrace the dictionary definition of the word senior that says “1 of or for older or more experienced people;2 holding a high and authoritative position”

The important word here is experience.

We have been around longer and seen the consequences of actions.

We have seen friends die from making poor decisions.

We have come to realize that recklessness  can lead to ruin.

We also must remember what it was like to be young and reckless and feeling like we were superhuman and nothing could hurt us and there was no consequence to our actions and give the younger generations a break.

I remember when bomb scares were common in schools in the past.

I didn’t see the despair that could come from that action carried out as we have witnessed over and over today.

I saw it as funny and a reason to get out of school and a revolutionary action.

I venerated the SDS and the Weathermen and often think had I gone to college I probably would have blown myself up in one of those dorm-room bomb factories.

But,I digress.

Back then I hadn’t raised children and sent them off to public school and witnessed their angst and worried about their safety and loved them unconditionally.

I’ve had that Life experience and it has made me wiser.

Societies have used the term Elder to denote those who are wiser. Those who have had Life experience.Those who are sought out for their ideas and input.

I embrace the term .

I also realize that not all my peers can claim the same. There are ones who are still reckless and careless and uncaring for the human condition, but on the other hand there are members of the younger generations who are wise beyond their years ,not like their peers,and perhaps(let’s Hope) they will take the reins that someday we will be dropping.

Wednesday July 11th 2018

Summer twilite

crosslegged wigwam

cedar and sage

silent meditation

wind rustles leaves

fireflies flight faerie's lite

a hawk soars by

2020 Wondering

65 (very) odd years I’ve spent on this speck in Time.

All as an American citizen.

All as a resident of Pennsylvania.

In that time I have seen many changes.

I have seen laws enacted.

I have heard (and have made) grumblings about them.

“No shoes, No shirts, No service”-no enraged citizenry storming retail establishments in their boot-less feet!

“Click it or Ticket” It was a long time before I started obeying this one but still, no open defiance, no demanding our right to decide if we want to or not on the steps of the capital buildings after the fact.

In complete reversal of that idea we voted to allow motorcyclists the right to decide if they wished to risk head injury or not (Hurray for individual freedom! It got my backing)

We used to be able to drive a vehicle un-insured. Where are the patriots in riot gear goaded on by militant religious-fanatical congresspeople forcing the Governor to mandate that insurance providers stop charging us because there may be lawbreakers?

Where were these same militia when the Feds started limiting airplane freedoms? (“Hell no I won’t take off my shoes!!!”)

I think they may have been cheering on the Patriot Act because, well, they are Patriots( and it wasn’t revoked just recently so those freedoms being taken don’t count)

Copyright laws come to mind. Designed to protect intellectual property unless the care-less want to use them for their own agenda.(I’ve taken my share of “free” music.never used it to get you to like me)

How many more?

A lot,I’m sure.

Now, however, when we are asked (or forced) to be thoughtful as to the well being of our fellow beings a vast multitude feel it’s okay to be rude?

I mean, okay,  a great amount of people  are rude and they have the right to be but a great many laws are enacted not only to protect their right to be but also as a response to the fact that people just won’t be caring and thoughtful on their own.

In conclusion. I don’t get out much on purpose.

Corona didn’t change that.

But when I do, please don’t cough on me, wipe your nose on stuff I may touch or otherwise act like a jerk.

Remember also, jobs have been affected by the government mandates.Don’t be the one who makes it Hell for those who are complying with their employers’ wishes.( we still have to address just how some employers treat their employees. That’s on-going and a slightly different topic [cough…Union} )