#anyway here kid!side content i have homework and i must go

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Bonus Sick Fic

Santiago Garcia x Javier Pena

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Summary: Part of If You Wanna Be Wild, Santi is sick and Javi comes over to take care of him, both realizing something is brewing.

Warnings and content: PTSD (flashbacks), internalized homophobia but like. Its mild. Flashbacks to that one scene in Glee with Blaine and Tina and the vapo rub lololol

A/N: I know it's been a min since the last chapter and I promise it's coming but I thought I'd giving a lil bonus chapter. Takes place before chapter 3.

A/N 2: for those who aren’t boomers like me, MASH is a show from the 70’s about med soldiers in Korea. It was a comedy but also dealt with super heavy themes and makes me cry

1.8 words

******************

When Javier Peña waltzed into work at 8:23 AM, he was surprised to find Garcia was not at his desk. Santiago was always on time, and usually early, often staying late to make sure his paperwork was just right. Javi had once returned after realizing he forgot his wallet before the weekend only to drag Santi out of the DEA’s office practically pouting at nearly midnight.

So needless to say, Santiago being gone on a Monday morning was certainly enough to make Javier concerned enough to walk back up to the secretary. Maybe he had finally gone out and enjoyed his life a little on the weekend. The kid needed it, he needed to let off some steam, and a guy that looks like him certainly wouldn’t have any trouble finding a nice girl. Well. Javi hoped she was nice. Santiago would get eaten alive.

“Hola Colleen, ¿Has visto Garcia?” He asked, leaning over her desk.

She did not look up at him. “There’s at least 6 Garcia’s in this building.”

Javi cocked his head to the side. “Which Garcia do you think I’m talking about?” A rhetorical question. “He’s late.”

“What’s it to you? You're late every day, your little lap dog probably got stuck rescuing a kitten from a tree or something.”

He would waste time on something like that.

“Colleen”

She rolled her eyes. “He called in sick, Javi, now mind your business.”

“Sick?” How did he possibly get sick, the kid had the best immune system he knew. Didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, ate all his veggie’s off his plate like his mommy was still watching. “How sick.”

“I didn’t press for details. He never uses sick days so if he wants to play hooky for once it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you Colleen.” Javi smacked the desk, not hard at all. “This was very helpful.”

Javi waited until noon to call. 

“Hola?”

“Garcia, where the hell are you?” He didn’t want to make it seem like he’d been asking about him, after all.

“Oh, hey Javi.” He sounded awful. “Lo siento, I thought they would have told you I was out sick.”

“Well, no one tells me shit around here, you know that.”

“Except for prostitutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m going on break, want me to swing by and get you anything? Some food, medicine, blankies.”

“Oh, actually, there’s some paper work in my top drawer-”

“I’m not bringing you work, Pope! Jesus, were you the kid who had friends bring him his homework when he was home sick from school?”

Santiago coughed and his poor throat sounded so horse. “Well, if I had friends and if I took days off, I suppose I would’ve.”

“Jesus, Garcia.”

“I’m JOKING! But yeah it was my sister. Mamí would have my head if I fell behind.”

That kid was never going to be free of his mother. “Other than work, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow? 8 O’clock?”

“I’ll see you when you walk in at 8:45”

“Shut the hell up.”

*

Javi was getting ready to leave work when he thought he might call Santi again to see if he needed anything on his way home. They didn’t live far, after all.

He called once, but the boy didn’t answer. He called again, no answer. When there wasn’t an answer a third time, Javier got concerned; he must be too sick to answer. Only stopping briefly at a corner store for some medicine, Javi rushed over to Santiago’s, banging on the door. “Garcia? Garcia!”

After a few minutes, Santi stumbled to open the door, looking groggy and messy and so unlike the boy he knew. Santiago shaved every morning, came to work crisp and put together. Right now, in a rumpled t shirt and shorts and a face that looked like he hadn’t shaved since Friday morning, Santi looked like an adorable disaster. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

What a guy. “Am I okay? Garcia I called you three times and you didn’t answer, you look like hell.”

“Oh.” Able to relax a bit, Santi’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eye as he coughed and looked at the bad in Javi’s hand. “What’s that?”

Javi glanced at the bag before returning his gaze back to the sick man. “I brought you some medicine. Thought you might need something.”

The smile Santi gave him made his heart leap. “Javi, I appreciate you worrying.”

“I wasn’t-”

“But I’ve had three of my tia’s stop by and baby me already.”

“Oh-”

Santi saw Javi’s slightly dejected look, and it made his heart swell just a bit to see that yeah, Javi was an asshole, but he was his asshole and Javi cared about him. Javi wanted to take care of him. “You know how to make soup?”

“I can try.”

“Good, because I’m starving.” Opening the door to let him in, Santi went back to his couch to watch M.A.S.H.

Javi set to work. “Jesus, Garcia, M.A.S.H? Didn’t you get enough of war?”

“They can’t show anything on TV worse than what I’ve actually seen.” He mumbled, cuddling up in a blanket again.

Javier often forgot that Santiago had a whole life before him, a whole life of seeing things Javi couldn’t protect him from. Occasionally, Santi would mention his friends from the Army, his special ops team he was a part of, but not much, and especially nothing with what happened or why he left. There was his best friend who was a pilot and a pair of brothers. The older brother had been honorably discharged recently with “post-vietnam syndrome” although they hadn’t really spent that much time in Vietnam, comparatively. Vietnam was just the thing that got people talking, finally. This only came up in concern for the young brother who without an older brother’s guidance was hard to reel in.

By the time the soup was done, Santi seemed asleep so Javi walked over to the couch quietly only to find Santi was awake, watching M.A.S.H with tears in his eyes. Javi looked to the TV and although he couldn’t pinpoint what was going on, the scene was somber. “Garcia?” He didn’t answer him. “Garcia, hey, Santi-” Javi touched his shoulder causing Santi to gasp out of his trance.

“Will?!” Santi jumped up, eyes wide with panic and hand going for his hip only to find no gun. No holder. No uniform…

“Hey, amigo, relaje, relaje… It’s okay.” He held up his hands to try and placate him. “It’s just me, you're safe, I’m not going to hurt you, Santi.”

When Santi realized it had happened again he quickly averted his eyes, subconsciously shifting away from his friend. “Fuck, sorry, I was… dreaming.”

Javi knew he wasn’t dreaming. He had been awake, clearly, but Javi didn’t question him. “Dreaming about how you got that scar on your neck?”

He knew him a little too well. That’s why Santi called out for Will, the voice he had heard before slipping into unconsciousness. Santi felt like he had been going crazy. It wasn’t as bad as it had been for Will; Santi could handle gunshots and cross fire and action. He could handle it well, he knew he was capable. It was other things, however, things like dead bodies or funerals that sent him into a haze. One funeral he went to when he looked in the casket he saw himself. He never told anyone and never went again. When he went to mass he prayed he would never have to go Frankie, Will, Benny, or Elena’s. He prayed he’d go first.

“No.” He took a few bites of soup, complimenting it.

Javi just nodded. “Alright.” Turning the TV to the Mary Tyler Moore show, Javi tried to change the subject to distract Santi. “Always thought she was hot.”

“Me too. Had a crush on her when she was on the Dick Van Dyke show.”

Javi chuckled. “Of course you did. Here.” He went and got the cough syrup and put it on a spoon. “Here.”

Like a child, Santi whined. “Asqueroso”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not Mary Poppins and I’m not giving you sugar to wash it down.”

“Fiiiiine.” Santi lifted is head enough that Javi could guid the spoon between his plush and waiting lips, eyes dropping in exhaustion and face flush with fever in a way that made Santi just look… fucked out.

No, fuck, shit, he’s not suppossed to be thinking those things about his partner, or men in general. Not that Javi had a problem with it, but he wasn’t gay. It was just his mind wandering, that’s all. 

“Javi?” Santi mumbled half asleep.

“Hm?”

“There’s some vicks vapor rub on the counter, can you grab it for me?”

“Yeah, no problem.” When Javi returned with the rub, Santi was out cold. “Garcia?” He felt his forehead, he was burning up. Poor kid was probably exhausted. Sighing, he opened the vapor rub. With care and precision, Javi rubbed a bit on his neck and a little on his chest, only dipping slightly under the collar so as to not put his hand anywhere untoward. It wasn’t sexual, Santi just needed help. Digging through his medicine cabinet, Javi also found some peppermint and lavender oils and remembered what his own mother used to do when he was sick. A tiny bit of lavender under the nose and some peppermint on Santi’s temples, Javi hopped at the very least he could have a good sleep.

He deserved it, honestly. The young man worked hard, he cared about what he did and the people of Colombia. He was smart, capable, and kind, traits that Javi remembered liking so much in Steve. He was easy to like. 

Settling into a chair nearby with some soup, Javier decided to stay for a little bit just in case Santi needed something or in case he got worse.

When Santi woke up a few hours later it had already gotten dark out and he had intended on moving to his bed. When he began to sit up, however, Santi saw Javier asleep on the chair. He must have stayed to keep an eye on him. Santi’s heart was full, overcome with emotion and affection for his partner in ways he can’t remember feeling since… well shit, Santi can’t remember feeling like this. He had friends he loved dearly, he loved his sister and his mother and all his extended family… but this felt… different. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Standing up, Santi quietly used the bathroom and got another blanket from his room. Before laying down again, Santiago carefully laid the blanket over Javier, tucking him in.

“Buenas noches, amigo. Y gracias."

************

Hope this was enough to tide y'all over!

I was writing the vapo rub scene and it was gonna be a lil more intimate but then I got trauma flashbacks to Glee and ina singing and... I said hmmmmmmmm nope lol

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleur @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @nanfafnan @kirsteng42

[heartstringsduet]

Ohh for the wip name game - any of them that you would love to talk about but wasn't asked yet!!! Or one that you just wanna gush a little more about!!!

Okay thanks, then let me talk about Fathers. It doesn't have a fancy name yet but it was supposed to explore the relationship of the boys with their fathers-in-law.

So Carlos and Owen. TK and Gabriel.

And basically, the premise is, they both change their minds as they get to know the other. TK starts liking Gabriel more and Carlos starts liking Owen less. Which...is a bold claim, I know. I do love Owen/Carlos scenes. I just also watch the show and think, if I were the partner of TK, would I truly truly always love Owen? I mean it is complicated of course. I don't think Carlos would end up hating Owen. He's too important. But I want him to lose a bit of the glossy admiration and see him as more as a person. This is the part I already started and got a bit deeper in. Gabriel/TK was supposed to be Part II so nothing is written there and for obvious reasons, it might look very different now with how short the time was they knew each other.

(and I actually think it has some of my strongest writing in any WIPs so that's something. I do want to work on it but have sooo many other projects)

This was such a looooong reply. Still, here's a snippet of Fathers:

When Captain Strand enters the room, everyone exits their stupor, this vigil they held around TK’s bed. It’s then that Carlos notices that he hadn’t even greeted them, doesn’t know the people TK works with and has probably burned that bridge by being this impolite. There’s little he can do now, because he doesn’t dare interrupt them as they talk to their Captain. It’s best to use the distraction to slip out the room unnoticed, even if his heart tugs painfully every step he takes away from TK’s side.

There’s no way he can go home now. There’s no way he can overstay his welcome with TK’s father here either. He’ll just change at home, then go to the hospital cafeteria and wait until it feels like reasonable time has passed to return.

“Officer Reyes,” Captain Strand says, just as Carlos is at the door out, “would you mind sticking around for a minute?”

His insides raw, Carlos longs to be rude enough to decline. Contention fosters between Southern politeness and male assertiveness. At last he remembers that staying means a few more moments in the room with TK and it’s suddenly the easiest decision to stay.

Captain Strand pulls up another chair on the other side of the bed and gestures for him to sit. The seat is still warm like Carlos never left. He wonders if the mattress is too, from where he leant on it to hold TK’s arm. Now, he doesn’t dare reach out. Instead Carlos draws back up, slips into the hardened persona like it can shield him from this fatherly presence.

“Sorry for keeping you here longer. You must have come after a long shift.”

“No need to apologize, sir. I--” and here he pauses, unsure on how to finish, but only the truth dares to be spoken, “I want to be here. If that’s okay.”

“You know, TK has never been any good at keeping secrets,” Captain Strand says, smiling at the hand of his son held easily in his now. “Even as a little kid, you could just immediately tell when he lied. It's his eyes. He doesn’t need a tell, his eyes are a window. Anyway... there was no use in telling us he didn’t secretly secretly have candy before dinner, or that he did his homework, or that he didn’t throw sand at the neighbors kid on the playground.”

Carlos had expected questions. Hadn’t expected pieces of TK, he could treasure. It immediately makes his throat burn.

Holding Captain Strand’s gaze now is a herculean task, especially when he hears, “I knew he’d been acting different the past few weeks. But he never told me about you.”

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

[ushijimas-koibito]

request no.3

kuroo, daichi, and ushijima with a s/o who's super clingy and affectionate and basically screams pastel, and then one day they get invited to a really fancy ball or something and s/o's basically the embodiment of "boss b**ch by doja cat" ??? - @why-am-i-here-please-help-me

i was so excited to see this. this is fantastic.

i’ll do my best.

this was my first time taking on a request of this size. i'm sorry it has taken so long. i apologize for any and all tense continuity errors.

please enjoy.

warnings: femme reader/fluff/suggestive content/some cursing

daichi sawamura- summer

the warm midday sun shone on your face. you closed your eyes and leaned your head back and your hair cascaded over your exposed shoulders and down your back tickling your skin. a warm breeze enveloped your skin and you smiled to yourself, enjoying this last summer day. your phone buzzes in your pocket, be there soon, beautiful. practice ran late. your boyfriend, daichi sawamura, was usually pretty punctual but this was the last morning practice of the summer. you could just imagine hinata and kageyama begging for five, ten, fifteen more minutes. you were impressed with their devotion and the team’s stamina.

you sat crosslegged on the low stone wall. you leaned back to soak up the sun. on the wind you could smell the scent of street food wafting toward you. you and daichi decided it might be fun to go to the outdoor market and then have a picnic in the park. you tilted your head to each side stretching your neck and leaning your hands back on the wall. you were so happy to have a relaxing summer day before the chaos of the fall begins. “hello there, beautiful.” you hear daichi’s warm voice ring out as he approaches you, sugawara and asahi in tow. “hey handsome!” he jogs up to you and you lean forward to give him a kiss. he brushes your wind-tousled hair away from your face and his hand drops to your waist to pull you forward. you giggle as he smiles against your lips. “you guys are so cute.” you hear suga say and you pull away to smile at your friends. daichi sighs, hating that the kiss ended so quickly, and pulls back.

daichi offers a hand to help you from the wall. “aw, thanks, suga!” daichi continues to hold your hand, “are you guys coming along with us?” you look between suga and asahi as daichi drapes his arm over your shoulders and kisses your temple. “ah, not this time,” asahi says looking away with a faint blush, “wouldn’t wanna impose..” sugawara laughs, “besides we’re just here to grab some things for tonight.” you look at daichi and then back to sugawara, “tonight? what’s tonight?” sugawara narrows his eyes at daichi, “you didn’t tell her?” daichi sighs, “ukai rented this place out for us tonight for an end of summer party.” he looks down and then up at you, “would you be interested in going?” you wrap your arm around his waist and smile, “sure! sounds fun!” sugawara smiles at you both, “see. i told you she’d want to come.” daichi chuckles, “i’m sorry i didn’t ask you before, but there won’t be many other girls there and i didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” you gave him a squeeze, “i got you.. is kiyoko going?” daichi nodded, “i think so, yachi too.” you look to the other guys, “are you guys going?” asahi and suga both nod, “then it should be fun!” daichi beams and gives you another kiss on the head. sugawara gives asahi’s shirt a tug and starts to walk off, “well, you kids enjoy your date and we will see you tonight!” you and daichi wave as asahi and sugawara walk toward the market. “see ya tonight!” he calls after them.

you turn to face daichi and he smiles sheepishly, “alright, what’s the real reason you didn’t ask me?” daichi laughs, “you just can’t be fooled can you,” he looks down at his feet before taking a big breath and saying, “it’s a dance party.” you cross your arms, “ok. and..?” he leans against the wall and pulls you closer to him to stand between his legs, “… and do you know how jealous i would be if you were the only girl there to dance with the whole team?” you laugh and place a hand on his chest, “daichi, come on, you know you’re the only one i wanna dance with and not one of those boys would be interested in dancing with me anyway,” he rolls his eyes, “now you know that’s not true,” he takes your hand and spins you around, “just look at you!” he pulls you close by the loops of your jean shorts and kisses your lips. he curls his middle finger through the loops on your hips and squeezes your hips between his palms, digging his fingertips into you. “daichi..” you say softly and turn your head to look around, he drops his head and chuckles, “sorry,” he says turning to look in the opposite direction, “what can i say, angel,” he looks up at you, “you carry me away.” you kiss his his forehead and then pull him up from the stone wall he was leaning against. “lead the way, i’m going to text the girls and see what we’re wearing,” daichi grabs your other hand and leads you toward the market as you type to the group chat:

perfect. you think as you piece the outfit together in your mind. daichi looks back at you, “uh oh…” he gives your hand a little squeeze, “whenever you get that look, it usually means i’m in trouble.” he raises an eyebrow. “i don’t know what you mean,” you say innocently. he laughs heartily and nudges you with his shoulder, “riiiight.”

you two walked through the market and gathered up some fruit, veggies, street snacks, and pastries for a picnic. you walked up to a flower stall and sniffed some huge blossoms. “aren’t these pretty, daichi?” he looked you over and his eyes lingered on your face, “beautiful.” he said softly, watching you with admiration. “we’ll take a bouquet, please.” he said to the stall keeper and gestured toward the flowers you were smelling. “aw, daichi, you don’t have to..” he waved his hand, “it’s my pleasure.” the shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet of big orange and red blooms into some newspaper, arranging them with other flowers and greenery, and tied it with twine. daichi paid for them and then handed them to you, “beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl.” he always knew exactly what to do and say to make you smile. “thank you, daichi.” he intertwined his fingers with yours, “of course.”

you two walk together with your haul of treats to the park and spread out a blanket near a tree. you set up the meal and take turns trying each others food and feeding each other. by the end of the meal you end up sprawling out next to each other on the blanket picking out shapes in the clouds, “i swear, (y/n), it looks like an elephant,” daichi points at a big fluffy cloud over head, “ok.. more like an animal cracker version of an elephant but an elephant nonetheless.” you giggle and roll on to your side. you prop yourself up on your elbow and take one of the blooms from your bouquet that loosed itself to trace the curves of daichi’s face. he smiles and closes his eyes, tilting his face toward the sun and allowing his hand to absentmindedly mimic your patterns with his fingertips against your thigh.

you watched as the petals delicately brushed his face. his high cheekbones, the delicate slope of his nose, the short, straight lines of his jaw; the soft and slightly tanned skin, his full pink lips.. daichi was sort of beautiful. he wasn’t an imposing beauty like a statue or a demigod, but he was beautiful in a homey sort of way. daichi was the physical embodiment of a feeling. he was honey in your tea, being taken care of when you’re sick, a homemade meal, the feeling of falling into bed after a long day, walking into an air-conditioned room when it’s sweltering outside, drinking ice cold water after working out, hot water on cold skin. daichi was stable, nurturing, and… good. he was the closest thing to pure good you’d ever known in this world. you were lucky to know him, let alone have the pleasure of loving him.

he opened his eyes and looked at you for a long moment, “i can’t tell you how many times i wished this day would last forever,” he rolled on his side and propped himself up on his arm and scooted so that he was nose to nose with you, “but then i remember there are so many days ahead of us, new things, days like today, and better, or worse, but i get them all, and i get them all with you.” he kissed the tip of your nose and played with the frayed cuffs of your jean shorts, “well, i must be the luckiest guy in the world.” he leans over and playfully pushes you back so that he’s hovering over you. there could be a million people staring at you in that park, but you wouldn’t notice. the whole world that existed in that moment lived in the 5 centimeters between your lips.

after some playful kisses, you cleaned up your mess and started the trek home. the sun was hanging low in the sky and you could hear the cicadas sing. every day was a good day with daichi, but this day made you feel so soft and warm. you were reminded of the simple joy of being in love and you felt full and content. you found yourself getting more and more excited for the party. and a dance party no less. the more the sun sank heavy in the sky and the day faded into a hot summer night, the closer you were to being able to let loose and get a little wild with the man of your dreams.

you and daichi were seen as the responsible, mom and dad type couple in your friend group. the team would be more likely to ask you to help with homework or build a budget before asking you to party. it was probably better that the kids didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. they all look up to daichi and see him as the reserved and respectable face of kurasano, but you knew a different side to him; a side you were looking forward to partying with tonight. it was the last night of summer, it was a night the entire team agreed to just let loose and have fun.

you rounded the corner of your street and daichi walked you to your door. “so i’ll be back here in a little while to pick you up, okay?” you nodded and daichi leaned in for a kiss. you playfully pulled away and leaned against the wall with a come-hither grin. daichi bit his lip and placed a hand against the wall just beside your head. he put his other hand on the side of your face and pushed your face gently to the side to expose your neck. he hovered a moment, just over your skin and you could hear him laugh softly before planting the lightest teasing kisses up your neck as he curled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck. he slowly pulled back and nibbled at his bottom lip with narrowed eyes, “i look forward to seeing what you’ll be wearing tonight.” his dark eyes had a glint of mischief in them. “i look forward to dancing with you tonight.” you said as you ran your hands from his chest to his hips and pulled him forward against you, “i’m sure it will be a lot of fun,” he said with a strained air of composure. he pressed his lips against yours; gently at first and then firmly before pulling away. “better go get ready or we’ll never leave,” you both laugh and share a few more kisses, “alright, alright,” you say fiddling with your house key, “see you in a bit, handsome.” he smiles and waits at the gate for you to unlock your door, “lookin’ forward to it, beautiful.” you wave at each other and watch as he walks up the lane to his house.

you dash inside to start your ritual. there is so much you need to get done before you go! you pop the flowers in some water and run to your bedroom. you pull the cute two-piece from your closet and hang it up next to your mirror, shoesssss.., you dig around in your closet and find some cute, strappy heels. the two piece set is made of a lovely silk blend. its a soft material that fades from a peachy orange to a bright red like a tropical sunset. the back of the top piece criss-crosses across your back with gold chains that highlight your strong shoulders and waist. the skirt is made of a matching material that is very short with a split up the side held together with criss-crossed chains. you pull out your makeup and other self-care supplies.

in the group chat, kiyoko and yachi are also going through their pre-party routine; discussing the virtues of flats versus heels, matte versus gloss, and how the heck yachi is going to get tadashi’s attention! you slap your phone on the charger and turn on some music. you shower, shave, brush teeth, and put on a face mask. you try to relax as you rub illuminating moisturizer on your legs. after your face mask, you pop on your makeup- brows, perfect eyeliner, highlighter, red lips, coral blush, even a lash. you look at your hair and opt for your natural texture. you flip your hair over to shake some volume in and part it on the side. you slide on your heels and before heading out you snip one of the big blooms and tuck it behind your ear. you look in the mirror and smile, i hope daichi likes it. and right on cue you hear him knock on the door.

you open the door and he turns to see you just as you open the door and meet his eyes. his eyes illuminate and his lips widen into a bright smile, “hello gorgeous,” he says as he steps toward you to give you a careful kiss, mindful not to ruin your makeup, “you look amazing,” he says as he holds out your arms to get a better look at you. you blush as his eyes hungrily take you in. “holy shit, girl!” you hear tanaka’s loud voice from the gate, “no freakin way that’s (y/n)!!!” nishinoya exclaims. “you look gooooooooood, for real, for real! daichi-man you been holdin out on us, captain??!!” tanaka whistles. you giggle as you can see daichi’s blood pressure raise. “it’s me!” you say and then give a little twirl, “you guys aren’t the only ones to clean up nice,” you wink and look at daichi who seems to be forever in awe of you when you interact with the rest of the team. he offers you his arm, “ready, gorgeous?” you take his arm and you all head out.

you meet up with a few others that live in the neighborhood and you all laugh and goof off all the way to the venue. it’s one of those moments that feels more like a movie than real life. you are so happy and your heart is so full. for a moment you lose yourself to the energy of the night when daichi stops you. the others walk on and he wraps you in his arms, “you are truly the most beautiful person i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and i mean that. inside and out.” he pulls away to look you over once more and there in the heat of the night, music blaring in the distance, in this quiet moment, you feel it must be true.

kuroo tetsurō - winter

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you heard your boyfriend’s raspy voice as you opened your eyes. you looked toward the window and saw the sky was still very dark. you groaned softly and pulled a pillow over your face. tetsurou laughed and rolled over onto his side, propping himself up and pulling the pillow away from your face. he slipped his long fingers under his shirt you were wearing and stroked your waist, “c’mon, precious, it won’t be any easier if you continue to lay here.” his head lulled to the side to make sure he was making eye contact with you. his hazel eyes bright and alert. you smiled up at him and wrapped your arm around his waist and grabbed the pillow he pulled off your face and sweetly, sleepily said, “no.” you smashed the pillow against his face and buried your face into the one below underneath you. “alright,” he said through his smug smile. he tossed the pillow you smashed in his face onto the floor and straddled your waist, “if we don’t get up, we’ll miss it.” you looked up at the ever agile tetsu as he leaned his hands on the headboard. your eyes trailed from his low hanging pj pants, up his abdomen, his chest, his sly smile, and finally his eyes. you smiled and pulled him down on top of you, “weighted blanket. can’t go. too comfy.” you felt him laugh against you as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, pulling his torso against yours. “baby,” he began seriously, “who knows when we’ll get this chance again.” you loosened your hands so you could look at his face. tetsu looked at you with eyes yearning and burning into your own, “fine,” you whispered with a pout. tetsu rolled back onto his knees and offered his arm to help you up. you wrap your arms around his arm and hang for a moment with a little whine. he laughs, “what a sleepy girl,” he purrs, “i promise it will be worth it. now let’s get dressed and go get coffee!” he stands up and pulls you up to your feet. “…coffee?” you say after a pause looking up at him with hopeful eyes, “yes,” he says while patting the top of your head, “your morning dose of trimethylxanthine, my pet.” you giggle mischievously and bound toward the closet. he shakes his head and watches you pounce around getting dressed.

this morning was special because it was a solar eclipse. tetsu had planned on going to watch it with you since he heard there would be one. he always tried to watch heavenly phenomenon and since you started dating, he always wanted to watch them with you. he would excitedly talk about how it was his “once in a lifetime moment” with his “once in a lifetime girl” and how he “may never get another chance.” he would talk excitedly about how each eclipse was an opportunity to feel the weight of being and to take a moment to appreciate the incredible mysteries of being suspended on a rock in a far corner of a vast universe and that our significance on a universal, global, even national scale was insignificant, but within the minutia, the significance of our being in the moment we become aware, was as close to infinity as we will ever get. tetsu liked to be reminded of his mortality and the balance of his own existence; physically and metaphysically. you were always so impressed by how much he knows and he continues to learn all the time. you are continually inspired by the depth of his gratitude; although it is buried under a surface level of nihilism.

“hey babe,” you called from the bathroom curling your hair, “what’s the weather going to be today?” tetsu rounded the corner into the bathroom while reading his phone, “looks like it might snow later, so, bundle up and don’t forget to pack a jacket.” he plants a kiss on your shoulder and studies you in the mirror, “i don’t want you to get sick.” he walked back into the bedroom and pulled out your bags. that’s right, you thought, today isn’t just a quick trip to watch the solar eclipse. after you both get coffee and watch the solar eclipse, you were headed into the city to stay for the weekend. kuroo’s friend, tsukki and his girlfriend, had invited you both to a winter soiree at the planetarium that night. it was supposed to be a celebration of the new planetarium building and it’s new design features and exhibits. you both were looking forward to this since they invited you.

you shook out your curls and made your way over to the closet. tetsurō was carefully folding his clothes in his suitcase and checking off the list on his phone; tetsurō is calculated and organized. he looks up from his list and asks, “what color is your dress for tonight? i want to make sure my suit matches.” you grab the garment bag from your closet. you have been keeping this dress a surprise since you ordered it and the suspense was killing him. you hadn’t given him any details, as to not ruin it, but he always tried to work around the surprise. he hadn’t been successful until now, “dark blue,” you say with a sigh and he smiled blithely, “good to know,” he nods and thumbs through his suits. he pulls two- a soft cornflower blue day suit and a dark sapphire blue evening suit the exact color of your dress, “which of these is closer?” he tries to muster an innocent smile, “don’t look at me like that, i’m just trying to make sure i compliment you.” his smirk says otherwise. you roll your eyes and say, “the dark blue,” he hangs the light blue suit up, “you finally got a hint.” he nods, “yes, but i won’t be satisfied until i can see you in it.” he zips the dark blue suit into a garment bag with his undershirt, belt, and a small bag with cuff links, watch, and tie clip. tetsurō secretly loves to get dressed up, especially if he can do it with you.

you packed your bits and bobs and started to get dressed for the day. you stood in your underclothes in front of your closet and shifted back and forth, holding up a few sweaters. you turned to see tetsurō who stopped midway putting on his sweater to admire you. you blushed softly, “what?” you asked and he chuckled, pulling his soft black sweater over his head, “nothing,” he walks over to you and looks in the full length mirror, “i just like observing you,” he kisses the top of your head, “the white sweater is my favorite of the two,” he walks nonchalantly toward the bathroom, continuing packing his list. you hold up the white sweater again and look in the mirror. you decide to go with it. you pull on the form fitting white sweater, some high-waisted tight black trousers, and some tall black riding boots. you slip in some dainty earrings and go to put on your necklace. it was a necklace tetsurō gave you for your birthday. it was a silver pendant with a diamond that looked like the north star. you remember him giving it to you and when you asked why the north star he said, “because when i am with you i never worry about feeling lost; you always lead me home.” he was always very thoughtful in his gifts and gestures. he never put unnecessary weight or emphasis on things. everything he does is intentional and purposeful; for someone who sometimes feels as though nothing matters in the vast expanse of time and space, he sure added a lot of sentiment and meaning to life. that’s one of the many things you love about him.

you fiddled with your necklace while being lost in thought when you feel his hands gently stroke your hair to the side and take the clasp from your fingers. he quickly and deftly latches the necklace and kisses the top of your head. tetsurō gives your shoulders a squeeze and walks back over to the suitcase to pack his toiletries. you spritz your perfume and also pack your toiletry bag, “almost ready, my love?” tetsurō calls from the bathroom. “yeah! just need to throw my toothbrush in my bag and we’re good.” you gather your last bits and slip on your long, oversized gray peacoat and grab your big fluffy scarf. “i can’t believe you still have that thing,” he gestures to the scarf. you look down at the wide and well-worn nekoma scarf. you had it made back in the day, when you both were in high school. it was a blanket scarf that was dark red and had tetsurō's name and jersey number on it, “well, it’s still my favorite.” this still made him smile; after all this time, you held onto it. every year he razzes you for keeping it and every year you tell him it’s still your favorite. he walked up to you and wrapped it around you and pulled you in for a kiss, “glad to know i’m still your favorite.” he kisses your nose and playfully wraps the scarf around your head. you paw him away and fix your scarf with a huff. he laughs and pats his pockets making sure he had everything.

you put your bags in the car and head out. it was still dark out and very cold. you make your way to a cafe and you are thankful for the blast of warm air as you walk in. the girls behind the counter gawk at tetsu who is walking behind you and rubbing the tops of your arms to warm you up. you step in line and you each study the menu before stepping up to the register, “cafe au lait for me and—,” he looks down at you prompting you to place your order, “a peppermint mocha, please,” you say. after paying up you stand by the pick up window and wait for your drinks. tetsurō drapes an arm over your shoulders while scrolling through his phone. “we should arrive at the hill in prime time to see the eclipse,” he was visibly buzzing with excitement. whenever he experienced any wave of positive emotion he reached for you. you think he did this in hopes to boost your mood through osmosis.

your drinks arrived and tetsurō gathered them for you. he made sure your lid was on tight and handed it to you, “careful it’s extra hot.” you took it in both of your hands. tetsurō grabbed some extra napkins and tucked them in his pockets and went through his ritual of patting his pockets making sure everything was in order. he turned to you and adjusted your scarf for you, “ready, precious?” you nodded sipping your very hot peppermint mocha. the girls still swooning nearly caused themselves a pulmonary embolism as he opened the door for you. to be fair, you guys are pretty cute..

with an extra spring in his step, tetsu led the way to the hill where you’d watch the solar eclipse. it was in a park near the water and was perfect for this occasion. he looked up at the sky and his hazel eyes seemed to threaten the clotted clouds in the sky. they kept their distance as you made the trek to the apex of the hill. you both manage to find an empty bench. the park seemed to be more full than tetsurō anticipated. this was bittersweet as he had hoped to have a solitary, intimate moment with you, however, he was very excited that others were interested in this event. you cozied into his side and sipped on your mocha. he draped an arm across the back of the bench and you enjoyed the sunrise. the solar eclipse would be happening just shortly after. “this is pretty special because a total solar eclipse only happens every couple years.” tetsurō swirled his cup of coffee, “the longest solar eclipse can occur for almost 8 minutes. i wonder what the universe will give us today.” he stared out at the horizon as you studied his face. his sharp, defined jaw; his upturned nose, his fierce eyes, the slight depression of his dimple likely formed from his near constant smirk. the wind ruffled his messy bedhead that always seemed to be perfect, no matter how he complained about and fought with it.

the sun made its way over the horizon and just as it ignited the sky it began to disappear before your very eyes. the sun became completely consumed, “‘totality occurs when the moon completely obscures sun so only the solar corona is showing,’” tetsurō said with a holy reverence, his eyes glued to the sky and taking everything in. this was his sacred place; his church. you felt honored that he would want to share this with you. you slipped your hand into his and intertwined your fingers. he tightened his hand around yours and he was on the edge of his seat, he was so happy- this made you happy. after a few minutes, you watched the sun reveal itself. tetsurō watched with the adoration of a groom unveiling his bride. he pulled his eyes away just as the sun came back to light and illuminated your face, “thank you so much for sharing this with me, precious,” he leaned his head against the top of yours and loosed your hand to wrap you in an embrace. you began to understand, over the years the more he shared with you the more you would come to know. moments like this were so special and you would treasure them always.

after watching the sunrise, you and tetsurō made your road trip to the city, stopped for some food, and checked into your hotel. you spend some time in the room compiling lists of landmarks and shops you want to go in while you are visiting. the list consists of bookshops, the natural history museum, and a bar that has a rotating rooftop area with a skylit cieling. it was nice to get away for a few days and have some time to go exploring together and see what you can find. you both lounge in bed and eat some ice lollies you picked up from the convenience store. it might be snowing outside but that was a delicious moment of sadism you both loved to indulge in. it was an act of rebellion, a decadent protest to not be anchored to the proprietary demands of the seasons; tetsurō reveled in the idea of contributing to chaos and throwing of the supposed algorithm of fate. you just wanted to eat ice lollies and listen to him talk about physics. it was a win-win.

time passed and it was approaching time for the event. you grabbed your makeup bag and your garment bag and headed to the bathroom, “no peeking.” you said with a sharp look toward tetsu; who threw up his hands with a laugh, “wouldn’t dream of it, precious.” you locked the door just in case. you unzipped the bag to reveal the dress. it was a floor length sapphire blue silk dress with two slits over each leg that started at the hip. it had an overlay of a darker blue with star and moon embellishments made of swarovski crystals. the dress was cut low into a deep v-neck that nearly showed your belly button. the sleeves were off the shoulder and long to point to a v with loops that went over your middle fingers on each hand like a renaissance painting. you also had a silver and sapphire body chain that highlighted your breast and torso to wear under the dress as well as matching garters that clipped with embellished silver moon hosiery clips. your shoes were a sapphire velvet with a heel. you wore your hair in a low bun with loose curls that framed your face. you tucked pins in your hair with matching crystal stars. your makeup was fairly simple with a lovely pale wine lip, big soft lashes, and lots of glittery shimmer over your shoulders, chest, and cheekbones. you finished getting ready and put your long coat on to cover your dress. you wanted your big reveal to be at the planetarium. you walked out in your coat and scarf with a mischievous grin. “oh, come on, that’s just ridiculous.” tetsurō grimaced. he looked sharp in his fitted dark blue suit. “this is all part of my grand plan, tetsu, trust me.” he rolled his eyes with a smirk, “if you insist.” he kissed your forehead and you left for the planetarium.

when you got there you were welcomed by tsukki and his girlfriend, “thanks for coming,” he said as he greeted you and tetsurō, “of course, thanks for inviting us.” you walk in and wait for the coat check. tsukki and tetsurō were catching up as you and tsukki’s girlfriend chatted and waited together. “look kuroo,” tsukki pointed into the next room, “is that..?” they waved at another acquaintance. “tetsurō, give me your coat and go say hello, we’ll catch up in a sec.” he handed you his coat with a kiss and slipped away to go say hello. perfect, you thought. this would give you an opportunity for a grand reveal. tsukki’s girlfriend turned in her coat and walked away to catch up with the boys; per your request. you slipped off your coat and readied yourself for his reaction. the main exhibit area had an interactive ceiling that reflected the night’s sky giving a detailed look at star and planetary placement. the room was illuminated in a wash of blue light and you entered the room.

at that moment, tetsurō turned to see you enter. his jaw fell slack and his eyes sparkled. you walked up to him, “like it?” he gave you a twirl, “very much,” he pulled you in close to him looking you over and taking in every detail, “worth the wait?” you asked in a whisper. he nodded, speechless as he ran his finger beneath the chain of your jewelry on your chest, “you are absolutely stunning.” tetsu takes your hand and gives you another spin. he drapes an arm delicately across the small of your back leading you around the exhibit.

he is oddly quiet and you catch him staring at you for a long moment, “what is it?” you tilt your head and wait as he searches for the words. you both walk to a quiet corner as the main exhibit begins its premier, illuminating the ceiling. “i finally understand the depth of what carl sagan was saying, ‘the nitrogen in our dna, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars.’ it’s about so much more than our actual biology. there is a radiance of epic proportions that emanates from your soul,” he looks down at you and strokes your cheek, “‘the cosmos is within us. we are made of star-stuff. we are a way for the universe to know itself,’ and i am so fortunate that out of all the possibilities, of all the probabilities in this life, i found you and i get to keep you. this small infinity between us; full of potential. i have found my once in a lifetime girl and the once in a lifetime opportunity to make you infinitely happy.” you squeezed his hand as you shared a soft, tender kiss. a once in a lifetime man with his once in a lifetime girl; a cosmic, supernatural phenomenon all your own in your little shared infinity between two finite beings.

nature is beautiful.

ushijima wakatoshi- fall

“what do you mean you’ve never seen ‘blair witch’?” you turn to look at your boyfriend, ushijima wakatoshi, who is staring back at you with wide eyes, “pumpkin, you know i haven’t seen most movies, let alone most horror movies.” your mouth pops open in awe, “but it’s a classic.” he shrugs and goes back to filling the bowls with candy for trick-or-treaters. wakatoshi didn’t really have the opportunity to participate in most holidays like the average person because of his insane schedule, however, this halloween was on a saturday and he was dating you, the scream queen herself. you sat cross-legged in front of your dvd collection, your horror collection spread out in front of you. your apartment was decorated magnificently with tons of old school and DIY decorations you convinced ushijima to do with you. your marshmallow candles flickered and filled the room with the scent of s’mores and you looked over the coffee table set up with small pumpkins and carving supplies. it was a perfect halloween- spooky clouds, chilly breeze, and a whole day free with wakatoshi in your matching pajamas.

he plopped down on the couch with one of the candy bowls. you popped in the dvd and scrambled up beside him with a chunky knit blanket. “i think you’re really going to like it, toshi. this will get us in the mood for tonight for sure!” wakatoshi kept an eye on the tv while cutting the tops off your pumpkins. he handed you a spoon and you both dug in to start getting the seeds and guts out. “how are you going to decorate yours, toshi?” he looked for a long moment studying the surface of his pumpkin. you imagined this is the exact face michelangelo made looking up at the ceiling of the sistine chapel. he looked sideways at you, “it’s a surprise.” you chuckled and shook your head. he held his pumpkin and turned it over in his hands. he leaned into the couch and stretched his long legs out in front of him crossing his feet at the ankles. you smiled seeing he was wearing the fall pun socks you got for him, “i’m so corny” with little ears of corn all over them. you never thought of wakatoshi to be the type to enjoy goofy, simple things but he ate it up. he loved your silly puns, your makeshift decorations, and your spirit. anything that made you smile, he was down to try.

you paused your pumpkin carving to sip on the hot apple cider you both made. it was the first time either of you had made cider and it was an event. the easy part was wandering around the market, picking out the apples and spices, and walking home through the leaf ladened park. making the cider was a lot more difficult than you thought and you sort of regretted promising jugs of apple cider to your friends. however, the vision of wakatoshi using the cider press would linger deliciously in your mind for days to come. as you sipped your cider, you recalled his serious brow furrowing as he strained against the old-school press, open flannel shirt, and windblown hair; absolutely worth every bit of frustration. the memory made the flavor more decadent. “how is it?” he asked. “delightful,” you said with a soft smile.

you picked up your pumpkin once more. you had chosen a classic smiling jack-o-lantern face for your pumpkin. it was befitting the rest of your home’s motif. you peeked over at his and smiled seeing the silhouette of his favorite childhood character with it’s round body and puffy gloves. he was concentrating while also trying to pay attention to the movie. he would occasionally blow his hair out of his eyes and wipe his brow with the back of his hand; it was like you were kids again.

your phone buzzed next to you, it was from tendou.

“you excited for tonight?” you smiled

“absolutely! what are you going as?”

“i think i’m going to be pennywise! what about you and ushi?”

you tapped your finger against your chin before sending your message.

“it’s a surprise ;)”

you could feel his frustration through the phone.

“who’s that?” wakatoshi said as he nodded his head towards your phone. “tendou. he wants to know what our costumes are tonight.” ushijima sat up straight and looked at you very seriously, “you didn’t tell him did you?!” he exclaimed. you laughed softly, “no, no, i told him it was a surprise.” he relaxed, “excellent; i want them all to be surprised.” he smirked as he continued to whittle his pumpkin.

you and wakatoshi had planned an epic couples costume that was sure to shock everyone. the two of you were so wholesome and reserved that you really wanted to blow everyone’s socks off. you looked over your shoulder and admired your carefully curated costumes. you smiled to yourself knowing that everyone was probably expecting you to show up as something cutesy and sweet, but these costumes… THESE costumes… surprising.

after watching a few films, finishing your pumpkins, and eating your weight in pizza and candy; it was time to get dressed. wakatoshi eyed the skimpy material skeptically, “c’mon, toshi, it will be amazing! trust me!” you scamper off with your costume and get ready. you do your hair and your makeup following a tutorial entitled “victoria’s secret bombshell glow”. you felt like a glowing bombshell for sure. you fixed your top hat to your big curls and wrestled with the glitter and eyelashes and squeezed into the tiny gold spandex shorts and finally turned around… you started at your feet and the glittering, sky high booties, up to your fishnets, tiny gold shorts, exposed abs, the gold and black lingerie push up bra, little red silk jacket with black lapels and gold ornate designs, big bouncy curls and top hat with gold band and veil… you felt hooooot.

wakatoshi knocked on the door, “i think i need a little help, (y/n).” he opened the door and was wrestling with the arm bands of the singlet for his strongman costume. his exposed chest, abs and shoulders were oiled with body shimmer oil. he looked like adonis. his eyes fell on you. he was speechless in a whole new way. “(y/n)-..” he trailed off, his fake vintage mustache falling into your hands. “like it?” you asked twirling around in a cloud of glitter and hairspray. “y-yes.. very much.” he said quietly. he was entranced. “let’s take a picture, toshi!” you pushed his mustache to his upper lip and he caught you by the arm. your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes. “t-toshi?” you said softly, blushing. “trick or teat, (y/n).” he pressed his lips firmly into yours and pulled you close. as you pulled away, his serious face melted and he started to laugh- his mustache had stuck to your upper lip. he grabbed his phone and said, “smile, pumpkin. it’s going to be a wild night.” you posed seductively as ushijima flexed for the photo and he sent it to the team. your phone started to blow up and you both laughed, reading the reactions of your friends.

[fallingappleshurt]

Project Pink

Sorry Y’all this one got away from me again and I wrote it while tired, again. Anyways here is some badly written shit and have a good period of existence in the universe!

Oh god my brain is going brrrrrrrr

Techno and Wilbur.

It had always been Techno and Wilbur Soode against the world.

Some would make jokes about how it was because they were identical twins, they got ridiculous questions like ‘If I pinch him will you feel it?’ or ‘Can you guys mentally speak- like through your minds?’ They would roll their eyes and say no, sometimes they’d joke around acting like they could read each other's mind or something stupid but it was rare.

They went through multiple foster homes, refusing to be separated from each other, if they ever were they’d find a way back to the other, because it was them against the world.

Then they got placed with Phil Wingraft.

He was different.

They had been through a few foster homes, some were good, some were okay, and one was really bad but Phil was different.

He treated them like they were normal, he was gentle but not patronizing or condescending, he would joke around with them but also became a person they could trust.

He took the time to learn about their interests, he got Wilbur a guitar and took Techno to the library every week. He took the time to recognize the difference between Wilbur’s crazy fluffy hair and Techno more tame but still wavy curls. Wilbur was taller then Techno by half a head but from a distance it was hard to tell. They both had the same shaped face and the same cinnamon colored eyes, the main difference was Techno had glasses.

They stayed with Phil for a year before they were officially adopted and became a family. A two years later he asked them how they would feel if he started fostering another kid, named Tommy.

“I’d be okay with that,” Techno said, shrugging, he hadn’t really processed it but he’d go along with it. Wilbur agreed too, nodding along, it seemed like it would make Phil happy so why not?

“That’s great, it’ll take a few days for the paperwork to go through, then he’ll be with us!” Phil was grinning, this was making Phil happy so this could make Wilbur happy.

Later they were in their room when Techno kicked the top bunk Wilbur was laying on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rolling his head halfway off the bed, trying to look at his brother.

“What?” Wilbur asked, looking over the railing.

“Don’t be like that, I know that look, you look like you just ate a suspicious lemonhead,”

“I don’t have a look like that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” His face softened, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about the new kid, Tommy, I-I don’t know, it just makes me worried, what if it changes things?”

Techno was quiet, he bit his lip.

“I get that, it makes sense but I don’t think anything bad will happen. Phil is great and I don’t think he would push us away, he’s not like that. Who knows, maybe we can have a little brother,”

Wilbur huffed out a small laugh, smiling softly, “Yeah, a little brother, that would be nice.”

Techno sighed contently, shifting back onto his bed. They laid in silence for a moment when Wilbur laughed.

“I mean, it’ll be nice for you, I already have one.”

“Two minutes Wilbur! Two minutes!”

Tommy joined them 4 days later, a little blonde dweeb with baby blue eyes. He was loud, annoying, and hyper. He would talk loudly when Techno was trying to do homework, he untuned Wilbur’s guitar, he said it was an accident but they weren’t really sure, and was overall like a bull in a china shop.

Techno was gonna pull his own hair out, Wilbur had come very close to locking him out of the apartment, they were both going to kill him.

It took them two weeks to fall in change completely.

It started when Tommy asked Techno for some help in his homework, it actually shocked Techno, the kid who was so loud and proud of his accomplishments shyly asking if Techno could help him with his math work was interesting, to say the least.

Techno almost said no, almost teased him, ‘What? The Great TommyInnit needs help? I thought you knew everything!’

Almost.

Tommy looked different, fingers nervously tapping on the packet, trying not to crickle it, eyes darting around, even his voice was shaky.

It reminded Techno when he’d ask an old foster parent for help, only they’d turn him away, telling him to figure it out, that they were too busy.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Sure, what are you learning?” He pushed some of his papers aside, making room for Tommy’s. Tommy grabbed a chair and sat next to him.

“Algebra,” He said, frowning, “I don’t get it- it’s just so weird,” He put his chin in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Algebra is super confusing-”

“Yeah right, you get everything, you’re really smart!”

“You’re smart too,” Techno offered, not sure what to say.

“Then name a time I’ve been smart!”

Techno short circuited.

“See!” Tommy gestured wildly.

“Tommy I’ve known you for two weeks, I’m sure you’ve done plenty of-”

Tommy groaned, “Nevermind, forget it-” He slid off the chair only for Techno to reach over and grab his arm.

“No, I’m sorry, just let me help,”

Tommy made a face but sat back down, “Fine.”

It had been 2 hours.

“This is useless! I’ll never get it!” Tommy stuck his hands in his hair.

“Just try this last problem, you’re so close!”

“No! I’ll just mess it up again!”

“You don’t know that, just try again!”

Reluctantly, Tommy picked his pencil back up and started on the equation. Techno turned back to his paper, finishing up a definition sheet, Tommy’s mumbles drifting in the background.

“Then add the two to get 16?” He looked up at Techno, who closed his textbook and looked over Tommy’s worksheet, covered in half erased scribbles, doodles, and pencil shavings.

“That’s right,” He grinned, reading over Tommy’s work again, “You did it,”

“Wait seriously? I got it right?”

“Yeah!”

“Yes! I did it!” Tommy pumped a fist in the air, cheering. “Thanks Techno!”

“Anytime nerd,”

Wilbur had been messing around with his guitar, sitting on his bunk, scribbling down music notes on a scrap of paper. He’d write a few phrases down and sing them softly to himself, strumming a few chords.

Scowling, he erased half the page, grumbling to himself; “It doesn’t sound right, why can’t I get it-”

“I thought it sounded nice,” Someone said from the bunk beneath him. Wilbur jumped, yelping, he hit his head on the ceiling. He leaned over the railing to see Tommy sitting on Techno’s bunk, limbs tangled around the latter.

“What are you doing? I thought you were out with Techno and Phil!” Wilbur said, sounding harsher and more shrill then he meant to, Tommy shrugged, “I didn’t want to go to the library today.”

“Wish I knew that beforehand,” He grumbled, going back to his music sheet.

“You seem mad,” Tommy observed, twisting his arm around the metal.

“Yeah I’m mad,”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I can’t get these stupid lyrics to sound right and you just scared the shit- I mean crap- out of me.”

Tommy cackled, “I’m telling Phil you swore!”

“Shut up,” Wilbur grumbled, gripping his pencil tighter. Tommy tipped his head to the side, “I don’t get why you’re angry, those lyrics sounded really nice.”

Wilbur paused, “You think so?”

“Yeah! It was really cool!” Tommy said, starting to come up the latter, he climbed onto the bed with Wilbur, “I liked it a lot!”

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks,”

“Can you play it again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Wilbur sat up straighter, putting the guitar in a better position , “I don’t remember all the lyrics though,”

He started playing, slowly his nerves of playing in front of someone else started to slip away as he fell into the rhythm and flow of the music. He looked up briefly a few times seeing Tommy, smiling widely, eyes filled with admiration. He finished the song and looked at Tommy, who immediately leaned forwards.

“That was so good! Write it down so you don’t forget! Wilbur that was epic!”

“Really?”

“Definitely!” Tommy leaned back, then quietly added, “And I’m sorry I messed up your guitar the other week, it wasn’t on purpose,” He trailed off.

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s fine, you didn’t do any real damage, just messed up the tuning,”

“I was messing with it cause I wanna learn how to play, could you maybe show me sometime?”

“Maybe, I’m still considered an amateur on most standards,”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy went to the same school as them, he was in the sixth grade while Techno and Wilbur were in 8th, so they saw each other in the halls every once and awhile. The one thing Tommy hadn’t been able to learn, despite the fact he had learned algebra, basketball, and some of the guitar, was how to tell Techno and Wilbur apart when they weren’t standing directly next to each other.

They had tried everything, Tommy would try to memorize the different clothes they wore each morning, the small differences in their hair, how they walked or moved around but nothing worked.

One day when they were in the car on the way home from school, Tommy was pouting, or ‘stewing’, as Phil would say. He barely talked the whole ride home.

“Alright I’ll bite,” Wilbur said, turning around in the front seat, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy frowned at him, “You both completely ignored me all day! I tried to get your attention so many times!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I never once heard you call my name,”

“Me either,” Wilbur confirmed, Tommy looked skeptical.

“How do I know that you guys aren’t messing with me?”

“He’s got you guys there,” Phil said from the driver's seat.

“We weren’t ignoring him! I swear, you must have gotten us mixed up again!” Wilbur insisted, waving his hand.

Tommy groaned, “Why is it so hard to tell you guys apart! Hey, could you just make it easier and not be identical twins?”

Phil cackled in the front, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It-It doesn’t work like that Tommy,” Techno snorted, half covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh come on! Just try it!”

Tommy was trying, he really was, but it was so hard to tell them apart. He knew Wilbur’s hair was crazier and he was Taller then Techno and that Techno had glasses but it didn’t help at all.

He’d go to ask Techno for help with homework only to find Wilbur, who also didn’t know jackshit about algerbra, or if he wanted to do something stupid he’d end up accidentally telling his plan to Techno who would immediately veto the idea.

After awhile he just decided to just try and slow down and see if one of the clones had glasses or not and that worked for him, sort of.

A few months later and they officially adopted Tommy into the family, he was an official Wingraft.

They went out and celebrated, laughing and making stupid jokes, it was nice. Then the next day Techno went to the store by himself, taking some of the money he had saved up from chores and searched a bottle of pink hair dye.

Picking out a color was surprisingly difficult, there were so many choices, taffy, bubblegum, creamy, carnation, but he eventually decided on ‘Rose Pink’. He bought a bottle then hid it under his bed, he needed to wait for the right time to do it because the dye had to sit for at least 30 minutes before he could rinse it out.

Phil was working late on Wednesday and Wilbur was going to see a movie with friends after school so he just had to lock Tommy out of the bathroom for like 45 minutes, which he would have no problem doing, and everything would be set.

The day rolled around and he found out that dying your hair is easier said then done, so much easier.

Techno set down so many paper towels in hopes to catch anything that might drip, then there was the process of making sure he got it all and wearing the plastic gloves made everything much harder to handle but eventually he was able to get the dye in place.

He set a timer on his phone then pulled out a book, hoping Tommy wouldn’t try to bust down the door, it didn’t lock but Techno had taken a rubber band from the door handle and wrapped it around the facut to try and give some semblance of a lock. All he had to do was wait.

Tommy was sitting on the couch watching TV when Phil arrived home, Wilbur in tow.

“Hey Tommy, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, nothing really interesting happened though,” He responded, “But Techno has been in the bathroom for like an hour,”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Phil asked, “Is he okay?”

“I guess so, I heard the shower running just a minute ago,”

Phil walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “Tech? You okay in there?”

Tommy heard the door swing open and Techno say, “Yeah I’m fine,” Phil didn’t say anything but Wilbur started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. Tommy turned around on the couch and saw Techno standing there, towel around his shoulders to stop water from dripping onto his shirt, hair the brightest shade of pink Tommy had ever seen.

He froze, much like Phil did, before he broke out into a grin, then a laugh, “Techno what-”

“Now you should be able to tell us apart,”

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hi! i loved your iwaoi fic so much!! if you’re still taking requests, i would love to see more iwaoi!! idc who’s sick but emeto is a yes :) no pressure and thank you! <33

Hi! I hope this is to your liking :)

I can’t promise that I’ll alway respond to requests this quickly or that they’ll always be 1000+ words. I’ve just been in the writing mood recently!!

Usually I hc Oikawa as super super overly-doting as a caretaker, but I think when it comes to Iwa’s migraines, he is so used to them (unfortunately) that he’s just like. “Okay this is what I gotta do.” If that makes sense?

Migraine: an IwaOi sick fic

Pair: sick Iwa, caretaker Oikawa

Word Count: 2,234

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slightly ooc Iwa

——————————————————————

Iwaizumi leaned against the wall of the elevator lethargically. He held the strap of his bag loosely as it leaned against his leg, suddenly too heavy to keep on across his shoulder. Why in the hell he and Oikawa chose to live on the 10th floor was beyond him. He was regretting the decision as each beep of the passing floors sent sharp, stabbing pains through his skull. The prospect of his bed called to him enticingly.

It had been a terrible day.

He woke up late and ran into someone on his way to class, spilling his coffee all over his notes. Then in each one of his classes, he found out that he did the homework for the next class instead of today’s, so when he was called on, he didn’t know any of the answers and each one of his teachers scolded him for not doing the readings.

During his lab, some dude passed out when they were practicing first aid assessment on a dummy who cut open his leg. (Apparently even fake blood was too much for the guy). Which wouldn’t bother Iwa usually, but when the kid fell, he knocked over the iodine and got it all over Iwa’s arm (which was now stained brown).

Then, during his clinicals, he was observing one of the trainers with rehab for a patient who only recently recovered from her shoulder surgery enough to start physical therapy. All he needed to do was watch so he could take notes on different types of treatment plans for shoulders. He was actually pretty relieved after such a rough day.

The universe was out to screw him apparently because the pain was a bit too much for the poor girl and she ended up throwing up down Iwa’s chest.

To top it all off, when he was writing notes for one of the certified trainers a little later, black spots started popping in and out of his vision and his upper arms started tingling. Anxiety immediately settled in his chest. Of course; the only way to end such a terrible day was with a migraine. He had at most thirty minutes from the start of the tingling to get home and take his meds before it became too late.

And of course that didn’t happen.

His notes took longer to finish because of the black spots interrupting his typing and the increasing difficulty he had starting at the blue light of his computer. Then his usual train route was under construction so they took a detour.

Now, here he was, an hour later, standing in the elevator, hating his very existence as the pulsing behind his eyes increased and nausea made his stomach churn.

Finally the doors to his floor opened and he stumbled forward, fighting his vertigo towards his apartment. The hall lights blinded him.

His fingers fumbled with the keys as he leaned against the door and when he finally got the door open, he all but fell inside. He dumped his stuff messily by the door (Oikawa would yell at him later for that) and made a beeline for his bedroom.

Iwaizumi could have cried when he finally got to his room. He didn’t bother with the lights and collapsed onto his bed. His head pounded relentlessly. He curled into a ball and whimpered.

“Iwa-chan? That you?” Oikawa’s bubbly voice from the hall cut through his brain like a knife and he brought his knees even closer.

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” his voice was closer now. He was most likely standing in the doorway, a hand placed on his cocked hip.

“Migraine,” Iwaizumi moaned. Oikawa was quiet.

“Did you take your meds?” he whispered eventually. Iwaizumi was hella grateful for their life long friendship because Oikawa dealt with this before and knew exactly how to make Iwa more comfortable. Including toning down his usual obnoxious tone.

“Too late,” Iwa responded weakly.

“Tch. That’s not true and you know it,” Oikawa chided softly. Iwaizumi heard him moving around in the room before he felt the bed dip.

“Here. They might not prevent it from happening anymore, but you know as well as I do that it might lessen the symptoms,” he heard Oikawa much closer this time. He groaned in response but sat up.

He clenched in eyes shut to fight off the dizziness before prying them open again to look at Oikawa in front of him. He was holding the water bottle from Iwaizumi’s bedside table and his migraine meds. The look on his face resembled a chastising mother.

“I don’t know if they will,” Iwa said, “the aura started over an hour ago.” He took them anyway.

“You didn’t have anything with you?” He shook his head and winced at the motion.

“What’s on your arm?!” Oikawa screeched and Iwaizumi hissed when it sent sharp pains through his skull.

“Sorry, sorry I’m sorry,” the bastard whispered.

“Just iodine,” Iwa responded and looked down at the brown stains on his arm.

“Oh.”

It was quiet again then and Iwaizumi settled back in bed.

“Wait, do you want to change?” Oikawa asked and stood up. He moved towards the dresser before waiting for a response.

“I want to sleep,” Iwa grumbled, getting increasingly more annoyed. He knew Oikawa was trying to help, but he hasn’t had a migraine this bad in a hot minute and the swirling in his stomach was only getting worse. Throwing up always made it worse, so he wanted to try and avoid that if he could.

“Sit up,” Oikawa said and Iwa would smack him if he had the energy.

“Oikawa, please,” he moaned again. He sat up anyway, his legs dangling off the side of his bed.

Oikawa pulled his shirt gently over his head and replaced it with a soft sweatshirt. It smelled like Oikawa and Iwa felt comforted despite himself. Next his jeans were pulled off almost clinically, as if he would break if Oikawa went too fast or pulled too hard.

Oikawa helped him into a pair of basketball shorts and then finally allowed him to lie down.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t ever say it out loud because it would give Oikawa too big of a head if he knew changing out of his school clothes made him feel just the slightest bit better. His jeans had been adding to the sensory overload.

“We were supposed to meet up with the guys tonight. Want me to cancel?” Oikawa asked, scratching Iwa’s head gently with perfectly manicured nails. It gave him a temporary relief from the pulsing that threatened to crush his head.

“No. You go,” he slurred, falling asleep.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa hummed and continued running his hand through Iwa’s hair. It didn’t stop the pain, but it diminished it enough that eventually, he fell asleep.

***

Iwaizumi woke up with a strangled breath when pain exploded through his skull and down the back of his neck. He blinked a few times, staring into the dark room trying to clear his blurry vision.

This wasn’t right. No, sleep was supposed to make him feel better, but an intense pain covered his entire head. It felt like someone was squishing his brain in between their hands. Why why why.

Suddenly he was nauseatingly dizzy and he realized he was panting, depriving his already struggling brain of precious oxygen. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to calm down his breathing.

His body didn’t want to give him a break though because as soon as the world righted itself again, his stomach contents swirled sickeningly in his gut. He tried to ride out the nausea. He didn’t want to throw up. That would make the pounding worse. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach turned and he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

In a vain attempt to stay in bed, he thought to try and call Oikawa into the room only to put together that the roaring sound that was hammering nails into his skull was the shower. So he was on his own. He needed to make it to the bathroom. Needed to make it to Oikawa.

With heavy limbs, he forced himself to sit up and almost lost it. He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. It pounded in his skull. He swallowed it down and slowly made his way out of bed.

By the time he made it to the bathroom, he almost lost it three times and the pain in his head was unbearable. His eyes stung with tears and he pounded on the door before throwing it open and tumbling into the room. He collided with Oikawa who squawked loudly, painfully. Iwaizumi ignored him and collapsed in front of the toilet.

As soon as he moved his hand away from his mouth, he heaved once and vomit poured from his mouth. It burned the back of his throat and his chest. The torture stopped just long enough for him to catch his breath before he lurched forward with another gag and threw up again. His chest was on fire and the lights in the bathroom seared into his brain and he really just wanted everything to stop.

The sound of the lights clicking off registered through his haze somehow and he opened his eyes (when he closed them, he wasn’t sure). Then, a gentle hand was on his back.

“Oh, Iwa-chan. It’s a pretty bad one this time, huh?” Oikawa said tenderly from beside him. He turned his head slowly and found himself face to face with his best friend. He was wearing pajamas, so he must have gone to change at some point since Iwa entered the bathroom.

Oikawa smiled sympathetically and something in Iwaizumi cracked. Suddenly, the flood gates were open and he found himself launching himself into Oikawa’s chest. Thin arms wrapped around his back as he sobbed.

“It h-hurts s-so b-bad,” he weeped.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry, I wish it didn’t.” Oikawa buried his face in Iwa’s hair.

“You need to calm down though. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

As if on cue, Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched again and he tore himself away from Oikawa’s arms to wretch once again.

The nausea and pain made him dizzy. He was having trouble keeping himself upright, but thankfully, Oikawa placed a hand on his forehead to keep him from banging it on the toilet seat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Oikawa soothed as Iwa stared into the toilet. His stomach still turned dangerously but he was on the verge of collapse. The tightness in his head only got worse and he really wanted to cut his own head off. He cursed his brain for being messed up and causing him such pain.

He started heaving again, but nothing was coming up and it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“Hajime, breathe,” Oikawa commanded quietly, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It did nothing though. His stomach kept rolling and turning thanks to his stupid stupid head.

Finally, the back of his throat gurgled and a wet hiccup brought up bile and the rest of his lunch. He coughed and sputtered into the toilet and gasped for breath. Maybe it was over.

A minute or two after the episode ended, Oikawa spoke again.

“Ya think you’re done?” He spoke so softly and so tenderly it made Iwa’s heart soft. He nodded.

Oikawa helped him lean back against the wall and a second later, handed him some water and his toothbrush. He lazily rinsed his mouth and brushed the nastiness away before spitting in the toilet. Oikawa flushed it and turned to help him up.

Once he was standing, the pain magnified tenfold and his knees buckled.

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” he mumbled and Oikawa caught him before he could fall.

“Hey, no. Not allowed,” he said and ran a wet wash rag over Iwa’s face (where did he get that?)

“Okay,” Iwa slurred, “not this time.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa chuckled. Together, they made it back to Iwa’s bedroom. Oikawa helped him under his covers and kissed his forehead.

“My poor Iwa-chan,” he sighed and scratched at Iwa’s head again.

“Stay here?” he asked pathetically. Oikawa blinked at him.

“Of course. I’ve already called the guys and told them we weren’t coming,” he said. He walked around the side of the bed and sat against the headboard, nestled beside Iwaizumi. Iwa turned and buried himself in the setter’s stomach and immediately, Oikawa’s hand was running through his hair. He sighed contentedly. This was by far one of his favorite positions.

“Go to sleep, Iwa-chan. Hopefully your migraine will be gone in the morning.”

These migraines really knocked him out. They stripped him of his usual personality and left him a sniveling, pathetic, clingy, mess. But he was a mess Oikawa was familiar with and Iwaizumi was eternally grateful for that. Oikawa knew what he meant when he couldn’t use as many words as he’d like. He knew how to make him comfortable, what foods he could tolerate and how to comfort him. There was no one else that Iwaizumi would ever want around when he got migraines. Hell, there was no one else Iwaizumi wanted around at all. As long as Oikawa was there, he’d be fine.

[sachigram]

okay but picture this, shizuo, 16 and gay, he just noticed he has a thing for Izaya and now they have to work on a school project together, in his house, in his room, alone Izaya being oblivious and Shizuo being in a gay panic through the whole thing

((For you, anon! Sorry if it’s sloppy, I haven’t slept like at ALL.))

“What do you mean you can't?”

Shinra looks up at Shizuo almost absently, like he's already forgotten Shizuo was even there.

“I mean I can't! Celty said she'd have a movie night with me, and I really think she'll let me make a move! She's been indulgent lately!” Shinra says moonily, that distant look returning to his eyes as he mentions Celty. “Isn't there anyone else you can ask for help? I'm not all that great at English anyway.”

“No, there's no one,” Shizuo says. Kadota is a decent student, but he has to go home for something family related, and there really isn't anyone else Shizuo can ask. Most people at school are afraid of him, for good reason, and the ones who aren't still want nothing to do with him because of his delinquent reputation.

“What about your kid brother? He's good at school,” Shinra says, and Shizuo growls at him. Shinra cowers almost comically, and then he's apologizing.

“It's more advanced stuff than Kasuka knows,” Shizuo mumbles. “Besides, I don't want to bother him.”

“Well,” Shinra begins, and he backs away as he speaks. “I have a suggestion, but you aren't going to like it.”

“What is it? That I should pay someone? I don't really have any money.”

“Not that, no.” Shinra looks very uncomfortable. “It's just... Izaya-kun is very smart—“

“No,” Shizuo hisses, taking a step towards Shinra. “I'd rather fail than ask that fucking louse for anything!”

“He's not so bad! He'd probably just be flattered you asked!” Shinra bows, holding his hands up in surrender. “He's much better at English than I am! He reads books in English all the time!”

Shizuo grumbles and crosses his arms, refraining from smacking Shinra upside the head. He knows Shinra means well, in his own dumbass, twisted way, but the thought of going to Izaya and asking for anything...

“I'll just manage it on my own,” Shizuo says, though he knows he doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell.

“Suit yourself,” Shinra says, straightening, “but keep it in mind. What's pride going to get you in this case? If you fail, you'll only suffer more!”

“Shinra,” Shizuo snaps, and before he can continue, Shinra is sprinting down the hall, wailing at the top of his lungs, and Shizuo sighs loudly, knowing he doesn't want to ask Izaya, but at the very least, he can say later on that he tried everything, even the last thing he wanted.

***

Izaya is slinging his bag over his shoulder as he closes his locker, and Shizuo feels like a creep for watching him like this, but he keeps in mind that Izaya does this sort of stalker shit all the time. Shizuo can see plenty of people, girls and guys, watching Izaya hopefully, and it pisses Shizuo off that Izaya is so popular. He never seems to engage with anyone, but it's easy to see others want to engage with him. Izaya takes a few steps before stopping, laughing softly, and whirling around to face the wall Shizuo is ducking behind.

“What do you want? You suck at hiding, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and Shizuo feels his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment as he steps into Izaya's line of sight.

“I need a favor...” Shizuo mutters, and Izaya cups his ear.

“Eh? You need what? Speak up, Shizu-chan, I have places to be!”

“Fucking—! I need a favor!” Shizuo snaps, and he forces his hands to unclench before he continues. “English. I need...a tutor.”

Izaya's eyes widen, and Shizuo is as perplexed by their color as ever. They're like rust, a strange brownish-red, but in certain lights, they're almost burgundy. Izaya is pretty, has always been too pretty, and it's one of the reasons Shizuo can barely stand looking directly at him. The other reasons all have to do with Izaya being a piece of shit.

“A tutor? You think I'd help you?” Izaya laughs, and others around them are watching warily, knowing of Shizuo's turbulent relationship with Izaya. “I want Shizu-chan to fail! That would be hilarious!”

Fucking Shinra! He said Izaya would be flattered! Whatever. Shizuo doesn't have time for this. He snarls at Izaya and takes a step closer.

“I'm being serious! I don't understand any of it, okay? If I can't figure out this homework, I'll never pass the test, and if I keep failing, they'll call my parents.” Shizuo isn't afraid of his parents in the least. They're understanding people, and he loves them. He doesn't want to give them another reason to worry about him, because he knows his recent fights have worried them.

Izaya clicks his tongue.

“What's in it for me?” he asks.

“What do you want?” Shizuo asks. He can feel his eyebrow twitching.

“Hmmmm...” Izaya makes a big show out of looking thoughtful. He grins at Shizuo, who looks away, because Izaya looks really good when he's smiling. “For starters, I want you to leave me alone at school! I'm tired of running from you in between classes.”

“Fine,” Shizuo mutters.

“And I want snacks. I want your favorite snacks!”

“You don't even like the stuff I do!” Shizuo sputters. He doesn't know why he knows Izaya's snack preference, but he does. Izaya shrugs.

“I'll like knowing you aren't getting them.”

Shizuo clenches his fists, baring his teeth at Izaya.

“Fine. Is that all?” he asks.

“I want you to say that you're a stupid idiot monster! Oh, and you have to leave me alone outside of school, too! I don't want to even see you for the rest of the year!” Izaya looks pleased with himself, and Shizuo weighs his options. Does he want to give Izaya free reign to cause destruction and chaos to his heart's content, just so Shizuo can pass English?

Shizuo makes a face as he thinks of his parents.

“I'm a stupid idiot monster,” Shizuo says, reminding himself that it's in his best interests.

“You could be more sincere than that! It's like you're asking me to move out of your way or something! You're asking me to tutor you, and I hate you. The least you could do is make it worth my while.” Izaya narrows his eyes, and he looks cruel, and this is the expression Shizuo is most used to seeing on him.

“Please help me, Izaya-kun. I'm stupid and whatever. I'm asking for help, aren't I? So you must know how desperate I am.”

“Ah, you need to work on your groveling. I'm in a generous mood though, so I'll accept it,” Izaya says. His pretty smile is back, and he moves to Shizuo's side. “Oh, you stink. Does your whole house stink like you? Whatever, I guess I'll manage. This is charity, after all. Lead the way, monster!”

***

An hour later and Shizuo doesn't think he's going to survive.

Aside from Izaya's grating, scathing comments, Izaya is also unexpectedly touchy. He'll tug at Shizuo's hair, press his finger to Shizuo's forehead, shove Shizuo lightly, and Shizuo keeps forgetting he shouldn't be allowing it. They've gone through half the homework, and Izaya is flabbergasted at Shizuo's inability to figure any of it out himself.

“How am I supposed to even read the questions if they're in English?!” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya laughs.

“Part of the homework is understanding the questions, you idiot. Come on, we just finished a question like this! You know it.”

Izaya is on Shizuo's bed, lying on his stomach. His legs are moving behind him almost listlessly, and his eyes are bright and brown in the light from Shizuo's room. Beside him is a bag of Shizuo's favorite chips, and every now and then, when Izaya knows Shizuo is looking, Izaya will eat one, gag a bit, and choke as he forces it down.

Shizuo hates him so fucking much.

“I don't know it!” Shizuo argues, and Izaya sighs. He points at the sheet.

“You do know it. Calm down a bit and think. Your temper flares when you don't understand something, but you have to ask yourself if that's really in your best interest.” Izaya reaches beside himself, and then he offers the chip bag to Shizuo. “Maybe you're just hungry.”

Shizuo grumbles and pours some chips into his hand before he shoves them all in his mouth. He glares at the question, and then he scribbles something down. Izaya reads it.

“Oh, no, I was wrong. You're really just stupid.”

“Fuck you!” Shizuo growls, but Izaya looks entirely unbothered. He watches Shizuo almost patiently, and then his eyes drift over to Shizuo's cracked door.

“Oh!” Izaya breathes, and he's sitting up immediately, patting his lap. “A kitty!”

Shizuo glances over at the gray cat sticking her face into the room.

“Yeah, that's my mom's cat. She really only likes mom and Kasuka,” Shizuo says. He blinks as the cat enters the room and hops onto the bed before curling into Izaya's lap.

“That's because you're one big predator,” Izaya says, petting the cat. “Isn't he?” he coos. “Yes, Shizu-chan is a big, dumb meanie! Yes, he is!”

Shizuo wants to be offended, but the soft look on Izaya's face while he gazes at the cat has Shizuo hurriedly looking away.

“Figures you'd be a cat person. Evil people always like cats,” Shizuo says.

“So your mom and Kasuka-san are evil?” Izaya asks, and when Shizuo looks back at him, Izaya and the cat are sharing the same expression: immensely pleased, visibly relaxed.

“No! I'm not saying all people who like cats are evil! I'm just saying every evil person likes cats!” Shizuo huffs, and Izaya's smile spreads.

“You only feel that way because she doesn't give you the time of day. You need more patience, you know? Not just with cats, but with everything. Here.” Izaya grabs Shizuo's hand and guides it to the top of the cat's head. “There. Now scratch near her ears! Cats love that.”

Shizuo's face is on fire. His hand is so close to Izaya's lap. He wonders what the fuck is wrong with him, and he hopes he isn't blushing visibly.

“What's her name?” Izaya asks after a few moments. The cat is purring loudly, and Shizuo can't remember the last time she let him pet her.

“Dango,” Shizuo says. “She's an old cat. I named her a long time ago.”

“Figures you'd name her after sweets.” Izaya's nimble fingers move to her chin, and Dango is purring up a storm. Shizuo lets his own hand drop and watches Izaya disarm the usually grumpy cat. Shizuo's always heard to trust whoever an animal takes to, but in this case, he can blame it on Dango being senile. Still, she's gazing up at Izaya so lovingly, and Izaya is gazing right back at her with a soft smile on his stupid, pretty face.

“I'm surprised you asked me for help, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says after a while, and Shizuo looks up at Izaya's eyes and then blushes wildly when he realizes he was staring at Izaya's lips, probably openly, for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Well... You're an asshole, and I hate you, but you're good at school,” Shizuo says. He swipes the bag of chips from Izaya, who lets them go without complaint.

“I wouldn't have asked you for anything,” Izaya says. “Even if someone was trying to kill me, I wouldn't go to you for help.”

“Yeah? Well, I'm better than you. I'm way more mature.”

Izaya laughs, loud and bright, and Shizuo flushes again, though he doesn't really understand why. Izaya is so captivating, so effortlessly attractive, and he's on Shizuo's bed, sitting with a cat in his lap like he owns the place.

“I should go soon,” Izaya says after a while. “My sisters will be expecting me to cook dinner.”

“Can't your mom do that?” Shizuo asks. He wants Izaya to stay longer in this No Man's Land where they aren't friends, but they aren't enemies either.

“Nope. I have to do it,” Izaya says. “Though we might just order out tonight. Mairu has been asking for Taiwanese anyway.”

“If you're ordering out, you can stay longer, right?” Shizuo asks, and when Izaya's eyes meet his, Shizuo realizes what he just said. “I mean—! I still don't understand this! That's all! And you came over to help, so help!”

“Mm, I've been helping you,” Izaya says with a grin. He studies Shizuo's face, and Shizuo feels his skin crawl. Izaya is too perceptive to be studying him this closely. “What's up with you today, Shizu-chan? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were warming up to me.”

“You don't know any better!” Shizuo snaps, and then he shoves a handful of chips into his mouth. “I hae ooo,” he adds between his chewing, and Izaya makes a face at him. Shizuo swallows. “I've always hated you,” he finishes.

“Yeah,” Izaya says, and he looks down at Dango, who is snoozing peacefully. “Say... Shizu-chan?”

“What?” Shizuo asks. He picks up his worksheet and pretends to be interested in it.

“What should I have done differently? Back then,” Izaya says, and Shizuo's gaze snaps to his. “What would've made you hate me a little less?”

“I...” Shizuo's mouth feels too dry. Stupid chips! Why didn't he bring a drink up here?!

“Shizuo!” His mom pushes into the room, and she looks between Shizuo and Izaya, then to Dango in Izaya's lap. “Oh! Hello! You aren't Shinra-kun!”

“I'm much better,” Izaya says, and he gives her a charming smile. “Orihara Izaya. Shizu-chan asked for help studying.”

“Shizu-chan? My, you two must be close.” She smiles at Izaya, and then she pauses. “Wait... Isn't he the boy you're always fighting with?”

“He was being less of a jerk today,” Shizuo mutters, not liking the look she's giving him.

“I see! Feel free to stay for dinner, Izaya-kun. We have more than enough to share.”

“I can't. Thank you, but I should be going anyway.” Izaya lifts Dango, who meows loudly in protest, and then he's standing from the bed. He bows to Shizuo's mom. “It was nice to meet you.” He looks back at Shizuo. “See ya.”

“Bye,” Shizuo says, watching him go.

“I'll walk you out,” his mom says, and their footsteps fade down the stairs, and then it's silent once more. Dango is glaring at Shizuo, her tail whipping, and Shizuo sighs loudly.

“Yeah, I know, okay? I like him, too.” Shizuo groans. “This is a big problem.”

***

The next day, Shizuo finds Izaya chatting with Shinra and Kadota. All of them look up as Shizuo approaches, wary expressions on their faces.

“Good morning, Shizuo-kun,” Shinra says, and Shizuo grunts at him before locking eyes with Izaya.

“Come over again,” he says, and Izaya blinks up at him.

“Huh?”

“My mom wants you to stay for dinner. Says you're too skinny. And also, you were really...helpful. I feel like I remember a lot of what you said.” Shizuo looks down to Izaya's lips, wants to kiss them so badly, and fights the urge away.

“Uh... I can help tonight, if you still need it!” Shinra says hurriedly, as if he's worried Shizuo and Izaya will come to blows right here.

“I'm not asking you,” Shizuo barks at him, and then he looks back to Izaya. Izaya grins, almost shyly, and then he shrugs, reaches out, and tugs on a strand of Shizuo's hair.

“Sure. Why not?”

[captainjimothycarter]

How about that AU where single parents Steggy meet because their kids meet each other in Pre-school and seem to recognize each other, and you get Steggy dismantling some horrible institution realizing their adopted from overseas toddlers were twins intentionally split up for 'reasons' and obviously you just gotta live together now man, twins can't be split again, guess we're together. Cause Maximoffs in New York, and Steve vs the hellion that is 4 year old Pietro.

 Something tells me that if I apologize for this being long, no one will complain, but anyway: I’m sorry for what I’m about to do and how I butcher this. OP, I love these prompts so much.

--

“You’re serious?”

Steve is fully aware that he doesn’t even know Peggy and he’s never seen her look more serious. She’s staring at him over the rim of her steaming coffee mug with an expression that says, you’re an idiot. Laid before them are a few folders, binders, and files, the contents spread out. This marked their life together.

The start of their life together.

It was late at night, Wanda was asleep with Pietro, curled up in his bed. The kid insisted she slept in the same bed and wouldn’t be told no and fuck, Steve couldn’t tell Wanda no. Not when she made that cute, little face that knew she’d get whatever she wanted. Besides, they couldn’t tear them apart again. They were toddlers who barely understood the situation. It’s not like the adults were doing much better.

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Steve let out a loud sigh and tensed. He waited to hear Wanda’s whimpers or Pietro’s groans, but none came. His eyes fell to the stranger before him, wondering how did they miss each other.

“You do understand that this isn’t our fault?” Peggy asks him in a soft tone as if she’s trying to convince herself. She lays her hand on his wrist, the pad of her thumb rubbing over the inside of Steve’s wrist. “We had no way of knowing. None. Even though background checks, I didn’t find anything that said this.”

“Doesn’t mean I feel any less guilty here.” He downed the rest of his coffee like it was a shot and made a face at the coffee grounds sliding down his throat. Ugh. That’s what he gets for a shitty coffee maker. “We didn’t do this but now we have the consequences. How do we repair…four years of that?!”

“Steven.” The way she said his name made him frown at her. He looked like one more surprise news away from a breakdown. Poor guy. He really has been working himself to the ground. “I adopted Pietro when he was three months old. You adopted Wanda when she was two. They were separated for whatever goddamn reason. We both took the kids to give them a better life. How the hell we wounded up meeting is-is fate, is all it is. It’s fate.”

“Reverse Parent Trap.” He muttered under his breath and Peggy snorted, looking utterly embarrassed that she snorted. He deserved that slap to his shoulder. It was odd, how close they felt and barely knew one another. All he knew that she was from England, she now lived in America, and she adopted the twin brother of his daughter. “So what do we do now? We can’t keep them away from one another, that’s fucking torture! We’re lucky they remembered each other. Or had some weird twin connection, hell if I know.”

The man was clearly frustrated and Peggy wanted to soothe him, but she had to keep her head on here. She looked back at the paperwork. The second they’d realized something was odd when she picked up Pietro from pre-K, Steve had rushed home to go get every document he ever had of Wanda and brought it back to her place.

The twins had to have some connection, didn’t they? They recognized one another, had some draw to it. When Steve saw them together, she gasped out loud because they looked so similar and not in the manner little kids do when they’re young. It took a DNA swab test designed by Stark Industries to work in under an hour to confirm their suspicions.

Explaining that the kids were not so much easier. There were endless questions and Wanda’s assumptions they split them up before Peggy had to prove that no they didn’t. It was the people in the hospital. Then Pietro’s declaration that all hospital people were bad and Steve tried to gently explain no they weren’t because sometimes bad, bad mistakes happen. So far, that’s all they could do was chuck this up to mistakes. They weren’t exactly sure. Besides, his ma was a nurse and she wasn’t bad.

“What do we do now?” Peggy mused, taking their coffee mugs and setting them in the sink. She started to clean the table with Steve’s help, carefully organizing everything together. She stared at the photo of Wanda on Steve’s shoulders in front of some museum, then of hers with Pietro on a goddamn child leash because he loved to try to run off. “I think you know. We can be civil about it.”

“Or…” Steve stood up and gently took the binder from her arms. There was a glint in his eyes as he took her hands and gently pressed a few kisses along her fingertips. It’s the boldest he’s been since he arrived at her apartment. “We don’t go about it civil. The first thing you did when you saw me was check out my ass.” Peggy’s ears turning pink told Steve he was right. “We can go about this the right way or…our way.”

If Peggy had anything to say, Steve didn’t hear it. Her lips were on his, his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

--

“So when is their birthday?” Howard asked, frowning as he watched the toddlers play with the water guns in the kid’s play area of Stark Industries.

Steve hated this. It felt like an interrogation room with the mirrored glass. They weren’t criminals. They were kids. Confused kids. “We don’t know,” he replied, turning to look at Peggy where she was bending over to study some flight plans charted on the table. That was Peggy, alright, newly appointed aviator of Stark Industries, Steve’s girlfriend [God that made him giddy], and an old-fashion soul. She loved computers but loved everything else handheld and on paper, so the charts were easier. “Pegs? Peggy.”

Peggy jumped and turned around, her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I was double checking my courses. I swear, I didn’t lose that shipment,” she mumbled, still hung up on the situation. “Anyway, yes? What is it?”

“Birthday, Pegs,” Howard rolled his eyes and slid in the rolling chair to the table she was at. He rolled up the chart much to her pouting. “When are their birthdays? If you want me to get their paperwork right and set up properly, I need to know.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he liked Howard Stark. The man was eccentric, a ball of energy. He didn’t know when to sit still and bounced from one side of the room to the next. He was balls to the wall when hyped up about something. But he was Peggy’s friend and boss, so he set his opinions aside to focus on the matter at hand. They couldn’t trust many people with this information, Peggy had asked Howard to design the twins paperwork to reflect that they were twins and family and Steve and Peggy both were their parents.

“We’re unsure. Steve’s paperwork for Wanda says April 19th. Mine says September 12th.” She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes on Steve. A silent conversation passed through them, leaving Howard confused. Her head just ever so slightly nodded. “October 1st.”

If Howard had a complaint, he said nothing. Or at least Steve didn’t hear him because at that point Pietro had cornered Wanda with the water gun. Howard turned back to Peggy with a fond smile. “The guy must really like you. He’s quiet. Thoughtful.” She rolled her eyes at him, causing the genius to smirk. “And no, you didn’t lose the shipment. It was stolen. I got guys working on it.”

“Peggy!” Steve’s voice betrayed the emergency of the situation, causing Peggy to abandon Howard and run straight to the playroom.

She gasped at the sight of Steve held in the air, a screaming Wanda in his arms, surrounded by red energy. The second she got close, Steve fell to the floor on his backside but held a terrified Wanda tightly to him.

“We have a situation,” he groaned to her.

As if their already situation wasn’t tricky enough.

--

So that’s it.

Steve was married to the wonderful Peggy Carter, aviator for Stark Industries. He was a stay at home father with a pair of twins. Twins separated shortly after their birth and now reunited. Twins with powers. Confusing powers that not even they understood.

Their relationship had changed in a matter of weeks. With the secrecy of everything that happened, they agreed it was best to get married ASAP. Bucky wasn’t too happy about them skipping a wedding and getting to embarrass Steve with a speech but even he agreed.

So that was it then, huh?

Not quite.

Wanda’s powers were difficult to understand and anytime Steve thought he could understand how she manipulated things or levitated them, or controlled minds, he was reminded he barely had control of the situation.

Pietro was almost just as worse with his speed.

They were kids, toddlers at that. Confusing toddlers were bad enough, but toddlers with superpowers? Now that was just a daily headache. They couldn’t control them. Once Pietro sneezed and jolted back all the way through the house and into his bed. He just thought it was fun and showed his mama as soon as she got home.

So what were they supposed to do? The only thing they could.

Move to a bigger home in the countryside. Steve took up being a comic artist, but more focused on stay at homework. Peggy continued her job at Stark Industries because part of her didn’t trust Stark. He knew about the powers but they worried through every test and blood sample that he might betray them. Now that Howard seemed to be that guy but Peggy couldn’t take her chances.

Thankfully Howard’s contacts had come through and they found a teacher, someone named Xavier who could help with the twin's powers. The only problem was, the guy was somewhere overseas and it would be after the new year before he could come to assess the problems. For now, Steve would send him daily updates and Xavier had started to couch Steve through working the twins through some testing or obstacle or stuff.

Their improvement showed and the father couldn’t have been more proud.

All Steve could say was, yes this situation was certainly an odd one. He never thought he’d adopt a child, much less a better half of a twin, a powered twin at that. Never did he thought he’d be with someone the likes of Peggy. A beautiful woman that took no shit and had no problem dishing it back out or putting Steve in his place when he needed it.

He never thought he’d have a successful career as a comic artist or even be a stay at home dad, but here he was.

Here he was in a loving, beautiful home that was chaotic at the best times, with two loving kids who just always wanted a family to belong to. And really, Steve and Peggy had done their both to give it to them.

Life was chaotic but it was good.

It was their life.

One Peggy and Steve had decided they’d carve it out together.

[kgraces]

Famine

A follow-up to Tire Iron and Surprise Siblings. Also available on Ao3!

Tim’s life used to be silent. He moved around his own house—not a home, never a home—like a ghost. That house was more of a mausoleum than a place for living, breathing people to occupy. Tim always felt like just another relic his parents had dug up somewhere and left behind on a shelf to gather dust. He grew up alone, and the most affection he’d ever received as a young child was a pat on the head when he behaved himself at a high-society function. 

Dick Grayson had been the exception. He gave Tim his first hug, and then Tim watched as the boy’s life fell, fell, fell apart before his eyes. And then Batman swooped in, and Tim’s life changed, just a little. He spent the next few years scouring the news for any reports on either of them, and years later, when six-year-old Tim Drake met Dick Grayson again at a gala—a framed picture wrapped neatly in cheery Christmas colors tucked tightly in his grip—he was surprised to be remembered. Dick had given him a hug that night, too. His second hug ever. 

When he was nine, he found out Robin’s secret identity, and he kept quiet. He would never want to put Dick Grayson at risk. The older boy was just so nice, and Tim idolized both the acrobat and the vigilante. He snuck out at night—not that anyone was ever there to notice, anyways—and followed Batman and Robin’s adventures. Sometimes, feeling more like a ghost than a person had its benefits, and being able to follow his heroes around without being noticed was definitely one of his favorites. He was a silent little shadow, a whisper in the night breeze, a lonely little boy who went four more years after that gala without a third hug. 

Then, Tim met Jason, and his life stopped being silent. For the first time ever, he had people who cared about him—people who weren’t half a world away. It was strange and new, but it was wonderful. Dick and Jason became his older brothers, and Tim loved them fiercely. Dick and Jason seemed to love him fiercely back, and it was so different from anything Tim had ever experienced before. 

Dick was visiting again; he’d been coming back to Gotham more and more often since he met Tim and Jason. He immediately scooped Tim into a hug when he got back to the manor, sweeping him up into his arms so Tim’s toes didn’t even touch the ground. A laugh bubbled up from Tim’s chest, and he leaned into the hug, excited to see his oldest brother. Dick didn’t even bother to set him down, he just moved Tim into a piggyback carry, so he could walk and let Tim cling to him at the same time. 

“Hey Alf, I’m home!” He called out, making his way into the kitchen. Jason sat at the counter, working on homework, and he glanced up at the sound of Dick’s voice. He flashed a grin at Tim and Dick before turning his attention back to algebra. Alfred glanced over his shoulder, elbow-deep in dishwater, and offered the boys a warm welcome. Tim’s arms were still looped around Dick’s neck, his face buried in his older brother’s shoulder. 

“How’s your homework going, Jay?” Tim asked softly. He still wasn’t used to needing to speak loud enough for other people to hear him, but he was working on it. Jason smiled up at Tim, who was peeking over Dick’s shoulder, his pale blue eyes wide and curious.

“It’s going fine, Timbit,” he said. “But it’d go a lot faster if my genius little brother would help me out.” He stuck his tongue out, and Tim laughed. 

“You’re really smart,” he said cheerfully. “You can do it!” 

“Yeah,” Dick said, ruffling Jason’s hair and snagging a few cookies from the plate Alfred left on the counter. “And after you finish up here, you can join us for a movie marathon. How does that sound?” Jason’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, turning back to his homework with renewed vigor. Dick snorted, sending a conspiratorial look to Tim. 

They made their way to the theater room, and Dick dropped Tim on one of the huge couches, taking the space next to him a moment later. Tim immediately curled into Dick’s side, leeching off his warmth and the feeling of having someone nearby. Dick’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him closer. 

“I’m glad you’re with us, Timmy,” Dick said. His voice was full of affection and sadness, and the oddness of the tone made Tim glance up at him, confused. Dick caught his look and offered him a small smile. “I just wish we’d found you sooner, is all.” 

“Because of my parents?” Tim asked, already seeing the answer in Dick’s eyes. It wasn’t a surprise when Dick nodded in response, but it made Tim frown, all the same. “Jason is the one who deserved better parents. Mine provided for me, right?”

“Not completely,” Dick said, brushing a hand through Tim’s hair. The sadness still didn’t creep out of his eyes. “They left you alone, Timmy, and no kid deserves to be left all alone. Kids—especially you and Jason—deserve lots of love.” 

Tim bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he completely agreed with Dick. Of course Jason needed them, but he wasn’t sure how he fit into that picture. He’d been fine on his own—been loved by his parents, even at a distance. His needs were met, but somehow, Bruce had won custody over him. Tim knew about neglect, from an academic standpoint, but he didn’t understand why his parents needed to be there with him when he could take care of himself just fine. It didn’t make sense to him. Dick must have sensed his churning thoughts, because he pulled Tim into his lap. 

“Tim,” he said, expression serious but still brimming with affection. “Material needs and emotional needs are equally important.” He watched as Tim melted into the hold, and he had to fight back the urge to squeeze him tight and never let go. “Like hugs, for example,” he said. “People need physical affection, or they run the risk of suffering from touch starvation.”

Tim’s eyes flashed with understanding. He looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. The puzzle pieces began to settle into place, forming the bigger picture for him to see and understand. 

“Oh,” he said quietly. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not he should put a voice to his thoughts. “Did you know that, until I moved in, you were the only person who’d ever hugged me?” 

Dick’s heart broke, shattered into a million pieces in his chest. He made a soft, wounded sound and pulled his baby brother closer. He didn’t bother trying to stop the tears from falling onto the top of Tim’s head.

“I’m so sorry, Timmy,” he crooned. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said, voice almost too quiet to be heard, even with their closeness. “I went from being able to count on one hand—with fingers left over—how many hugs I’ve ever gotten to getting more than that every single day.” He patted Dick’s arm, wanting to offer some small comfort to his big brother. “I’m really glad I’ve got you guys now.” He paused for a moment. “Is that why you and Jason are always giving me hugs?”

“Absolutely,” Jason’s voice replied from the doorway. “Finally figured us out?” He asked, moving to join them on the couch. He curled up as close as he could to Dick and Tim. Tim reached out a hand, which Jason took. He was shaking a little, but he trusted his older brothers to keep him steady.

“I’m not used to it,” Tim admitted. “But, it’s really nice. My parents didn’t like it when I asked for comfort, even when I was little. I started having really bad nightmares after that night at the circus, and I think I annoyed them by constantly asking to sleep in their bed or for a hug. They took a six month trip a week after.”

Jason gritted his teeth, anger sparking to life in his eyes. It died as soon as he met Tim’s steady gaze, and his shoulders slumped. He hated Tim’s parents for treating him like he was little more than a shiny bauble to show off when they needed to impress people. They didn’t see Tim, the brilliant, dorky kid who loves Alfred’s scones and Star Wars, the kid who can talk circles around Jason about the most random, specific topics. Jason didn’t think he could ever forgive Tim’s parents for starving Tim of the love he deserved. He knew Dick and Tim felt the same about his own parents, and he and Tim hurt for Dick’s loss, too. 

Jason thought that’s the way a family should be, even if he never had it for himself until he stumbled his way into the Waynes’ lives. Tim didn’t seem to fully understand it yet, but they were working on it. Tim had been starved his whole life, and it was up to Jason and Dick to show him just how much he deserved. Tim’s grip on his hand wavered a little, fingers trembling, and Jason sent him a reassuring smile in response to the unasked question. No, he wasn’t going to let go. Tim smiled back, relaxing back against Dick’s chest. 

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” Tim asked, a warble of hesitation in his voice. Dick and Jason exchanged a pained look. Tim was still so uncertain, but he was trying. 

“Of course we can, Timmy,” Dick said. He threaded his fingers through Tim’s hair, smoothing out the tangles. 

“Thank you,” Tim said, and the sincerity in his tone was painful to hear.

“Anytime, Timbit,” Jason said, drawing himself as close to his little brother as he could. Ordinarily, he’d shy away from so much close contact; years living with Willis Todd had taught him to avoid being within fist’s reach, but they both needed to learn how to give and accept what most people took for granted: hugs and hair-ruffles and having other people there for them. Tim, perceptive as ever, seemed to catch onto Jason’s line of thinking and squeezed his hand. 

They fell quiet, and it wasn’t quite contentment, but it was something inching closer to it, little by little. For Tim, it was enough. It was more than he’d ever dared hope for, and it was something incredibly new and precious. Having other people around him, not walking around in his own home like a shadow or a forgotten relic, wasn’t something he was used to, yet. But he was learning. He was getting used to being able to rely on other people, for other people to rely on him. 

He wasn’t like Dick or Jay. He still technically had parents, but now he had a family. His mom and dad had given him anything but their time. Dick and Jay were there for him, and even when they were busy, they always made him feel noticed and appreciated. He settled in Dick’s hold, one hand still tightly clinging to Jason’s. He drank in the touch and the warmth like he was dying of thirst.

He had brothers—brothers he loved with all his heart. And as difficult as it was to really let himself believe it, he knew they loved him back.

[siderealxmelody]

Open Your Eyes

@silentwcrds

@foreverfallen

Cassiel watched as the ball got underway, he'd been there for a few hours already. He liked to people watch, it was interesting to see how everyone acted when they thought no one was noticing.

He heard an excited ripple flow through the crowd, he looked down to see his parents entering. His ma, Ierimiel wasn't here apparently he was going to be taking a day for himself.

It had been a while since he had seen his mama Fraciel had last attended a party. He looked good, his suit fit just right, and gold cuffs glinted as he moved.

The last time he remembered Mama being here was when Jophiel and Seraphiel had been too small to leave alone.

He loved his parents, he really did. But sometimes he didn't see what his father saw in his Mama. Fraciel wasn't as politically inclined as Ierimiel was. Ierimiel had been on the seraphic council representing the Galaerii as long as he could remember.

The immediate memories he had of Mama were being helped with homework, or told to do this or that chore. When he was much younger he remembered helping Mama make cookies and other treats...but nothing else very substantial.

His eyes slid to his father, he commanded the room - angels moved around him as if he had laid a halo around himself.

But his father wasn't paying attention, he was laughing at something his mama said. His father looked almost too happy.

Cassiel gripped the railing, a spike of jealousy flowinh through him. What was it like to have so much power that he act so careless? What was it like to have such a love that nothing else mattered?

He slid eyes to Damiel on the other side of the room. He was surrounded by a few angels, he seemed to command the group's attention. How did he do it? He wasn't even raised with any royal blood in him?

The group burst out laughing and Cassiel felt himself flush. It was exactly like the laugh Metateon and his cronies used to give in their school days. He pretended not to notice but it still stung.

He felt his breath catch as Damiel lifted his eyes and met his. He winked and inclined his wine glass in his direction.

Cassiel swallowed and gave a quick nod back. He hadn't meant to be noticed. What must Damiel think of him now? A stalker with an odd obsession? Or worse? An easy archangel to break into submission?

He turned away and grabbed a glass of wine, the lucid dream he had this morning wasn't helping. He - he didn't like how easy it felt to give Damiel so much control in bed...he was an archangel, surely that was taboo?

Weren't they always supposed to be in control? He crept closer to hear his parents talking, they were just underneath him now. Though no one could see him from this angle, but he could see everyone.

Lumiel was walking backwards laughing as something Fraciel was saying. He could make out snatches of conversation and-

"Lumiel! Watch where you're going!"

Lumiel turned and grinned to see Michael watching them both.

"Why? Won't everyone just move for me?"

Fraciel was laughing and sipping his wine. Michael rolled his eyes but he was smiling.

"Yes, but that's not the point. We need to be on gaurd what if -"

"Where are your mates Michael? Don't tell me you ditched them to talk to Lumi?"

Lumiel grinned when Michael flushed.

"I didn't Fraciel. Omniel went to find us a quiet place place catch up, and Narel went to get us drinks...what? Why are you both looking at me like that?"

Lumiel burst out laughing and Fraciel grinned wider.

"To catch up? Honestly Michael what are you 16? If you're going get laid you could just -"

"Shh! Someone could hear you! Not all of us are as crazy as you two!"

Lumiel beamed and pulled Fraciel into an embrace kissing the top of his head.

"You say that, but I bet you're just jealous at how healthy my relationship is!"

Michael stared at them both and just shook his head.

"I'm perfectly content and my relationship is fine. I'm going to go before I get roped into anything too insane. Oh look Gabe! Wonderful, go bother him."

He slipped past Gabriel who hadn't noticed Lumiel and Fraciel yet. Cassiel shook his head, he hadn't wanted to know any of that. He needed that mind bleach potion Zaphiel had been talking about.

Fraciel looked up at Lumiel.

"He's just jealous isn't he?"

"Of course he is darling. He must be boring in bed no wonder -"

"Oh good, Fraciel I was looking for you."

Fraciel groaned and gave Gabriel an annoyed look.

"Funny, I wasn't looking for you Gabriel, what do you want?"

Lumiel chuckled as he pulled away keeping only a hand on the small of Fraciel's back.

Gabriel didn't seem particularly dettered or surprised by the hostility in Fraciel's voice. Cassiel, on the other hand, was surprised he'd never heard his mama this irritated before, not in public anyway.

"I need your help. I need you to vet someone -"

"No, there are plenty of other angels to do you dirty work for you. Besides I'm sure Asmodel would do it for free anyway. I'm done remember?"

He went to push past Gabriel who grabbed his elbow in response.

Lumiel who had been watching Michael snapped his attention back to them as Fraciel let out a low growl.

"Get your hand off him Gabriel, he was more than polite with you."

This was the side of his father he was more comfortable with. This was the side he wanted to emulate - an archangel no one ever crossed. A powerful beacon for righteousness and justice.

"You call his tone polite? This is in public Lumiel, he needs to learn his -"

Gabriel cut himself off as Fraciel wrenched his arm free. He sent Gabriel an icy glare.

"I don't need to be anything. Lumiel is loved, my children have proven themselves over and over again, more than they should need to. I'm not your mate, or employee Gabriel - to be molded into something you like. The only opinions I take into consideration are Lumiel's and Ierimiel's. You are neither, so I suggest you learn to hold your tongue next time."

Cassiel stared in shock, he didn't know the background. Whenever he'd seen his uncle Gabriel and father they'd been more than friendly. But he'd never think his mama would be like this. Didn't he know better? If this had been Damiel...No he couldn't even think that.

How did his father put up with such disrespect? Why did his father not reprimand him? Perhaps he was waiting for when they were more alone to say something?

Fraciel slipped past Gabriel and to a small table in the corner. Lumiel was trying hard not to smile, did he find all of this amusing?

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Ithuriel's Destined, I just wanted him to look into the family Lu. Ithoo has been through so much more heartache than I'd ever wish on a child. I just wanted this one thing to go smoothly for him."

Lumiel gave a soft smile and patted his older brother's shoulder.

"You could have opened with that Gabe. You know he'd do anything for one of the kids. Look, I'll talk to him okay? Just keep your distance for the night?"

Gabriel gave a curt nod and walked off. Cassiel crept closer to hear Fraciel as Lumiel reached him.

He had gotten a few middle of the road nobles around him. He seemed amiable and conformable speaking with them. Which in of itself was odd, his mother wasn't one for political schmoozing.

He beamed as Lumiel made his way over. Even blushing when Lumiel kissed his cheek.

"Can you get you anything my love?"

In that moment Cassiel knew his father was never going to reprimand his mother. Apparently, his mother could say whatever he wanted and not have any consequences.

"A glass of wine if you don't mind?"

Lumiel nodded and squeezed his shoulder before he slipped away again. Cassiel gritted his teeth, his father wasn't some lowly Wisp to jump when his mother snapped his fingers.

He crept out of his hiding place and went to find his father. He was surprised to find him in the hallway looking out at the grounds. Hadn't he gone to get wine?

"Papa, I wanted to -"

"What is troubling you Cassiel? Why shouldn't I show how much your mothers mean to me?"

He turned to look at Cassiel, his blue eyes solemn, waiting for his answer.

[neocity-sarai]

Tattoos Together

❈ main concept: childhood best friends to lovers!

❈ pairing: mark lee x reader

❈ alerts: fluff, angsty angst, language, parties, mentions of drinking/smoking, mentions of the dreamies/other idols

❈ song reference: “tattoos together” by lauv

Vancouver has always been home. Since you were a child, Vancouver has been the place to be. Years of dinners in the city, biking around Granville island, and field trips to the Victoria gardens were the norm, just little secret spots you go to when you want a getaway- an escape from school, work, whatever it is you’re doing. At age 15, the Lees moved into the light blue house next to yours, the one with overgrown weeds in the yard. The one with the crooked, leaning mailbox in front of it- daisies painted on the rusty metal. A young girl, an artist, used to live there until she moved to Paris for her next exhibit- leaving the lonely, periwinkle house behind. That day the Lees moved in, your parents baked more muffins than usual (on purpose) so they could welcome our new neighbors by enticing them with food. The saying goes that a way to a person’s heart is through their stomach right? When dad is done packaging them up into a neat little box, he shoves it into your hands, “Y/N. I hear the Lees have a son about your age, go introduce yourself.”

Glaring at your father, you set the box that was tied with a small yellow ribbon on the table before saying, “I’m sure they can manage just fine without the muffins. Why do we have to go greet them now? they’re probably tired from moving.”

Mom gives you a stern look, her jaw tightening, “Don’t be silly, it’s a nice gesture. Come back before dinner is ready.”

Before you can even protest, your parents are shoving you out the door, still careful not to crush the perfectly wrapped box. Stepping over the stairs, you finally manage to make it to the door. Here goes nothing? The cherry red door swings open lightly after you linger my finger-tip on their doorbell, opening up to a pretty woman- her facial features defined of asian descent. Her dark hair is tied into a loose braid, her pink sweater tucked into the waistband of her culotte pants. The woman smiles at you, the corner of her lips upturned, “Ah- you must be Y/N. I just got a call from your mother.”

You try to hide the shaking of my hands, handing her the box of warmed muffins, “Uh-hi Mrs. Lee. My parents made some muffins to welcome you to the uh- neighborhood.”

The woman’s eyes crinkle until her eyes stretch thinly, “That’s so nice of you! Thank you, I’m sure Mark will enjoy these!”

You question,“Um- Mark?”

Her laugh is light and airy, “My son-Mark! Wait here, I’ll get him.”

You wave my hands at her, motioning my refusal, “No worries, I-I have to get going for dinner..”

She doesn’t wait to listen to my words before turning away from the door to scream Mark’s name. A few minutes later, a boy wearing a dress shirt over his black t-shirt comes stumbling down the stairs, a pair of black headphones hanging off his neck. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as his jet-black hair sits as a messy pile on his head. It looks like he hasn’t combed it in days. Mark shouts, “What? What did you need mom?”

Mark’s mother clutches him by the arm, shoving him into my view, “Meet y/n. She’s the daughter of the family next door.”

At first, no words come out of Mark’s mouth, his doe, boyish eyes as wide as saucers. Mark’s mother hits him in the back, causing him to cough abruptly, “Uh-yeah-my name’s Mark. W-what’s your name?”

Mark’s mother laughs again, leaning down to whisper into his ear, “I already said her name is y/n!”

Redness creeps up to Mark’s cheeks, his nose tinted a slight shade of rose as his dark irises bounce everywhere but at me.

You smile anyway, “It’s y/n.”

He gives me a small smile and a nod, eyes set on the ground. His mother speaks up again, “I’m really sorry y/n, my boy’s really shy around pretty girls…”

Mark lightly hits his mom in the shoulder, “Mom! Don’t say that! You’re embarrassing me!”

His face is as red as a tomato, glasses sliding farther down his nose only for him to push them up with the tip of his index finger. I laugh at their cute relationship, holding out a hand to Mark, “It’s nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends?”

Mark stutters once more, his eyes wild with energy, “I-i’d like that very much-h, yeah.”

After you tell Mrs. Lee goodbye, you give Mark a nod before turning back on to their driveway. The both of them stand in the doorway, Mark’s voice reprimanding his mom in the house behind me. Maybe it wasn’t so bad meeting the Lees after all. That night, you go to bed, replaying the vision of Mark’s embarrassed smile in your mind.

Age 18  (senior year)

The next several years breeze by. Ever since Mark Lee enrolled into Everlane high, he wasn’t as shy of a freshman compared to the day you met him all those summers ago. Over the years, he grew a lot taller, his face a lot mature, yet still adorably awkward at the same time. He became a smart student, one favored by many of the science teachers- causing his friends (Jeno and Jaemin) to roll their eyes playfully whenever Mrs. Scofski would praise Mark for solving a chemical equation on the white-board. Mark was a basketball captain along with his best friend Hyuck, the two always tag-teaming during the school’s games. Due to Renjun’s forcing, Mark joined the student body as a reputable member. He became a biology tutor for kids who had found science class difficult or just fooled around without paying attention (Jisung and Chenle being two of those kids). Quickly, Mark was showered as Everlane’s golden boy, your neighborhood’s ideal son. He was doted as smart, popular, and mr. perfect to all the girls in the area- no matter how much he always denied it when you told him so. After your first meeting, your parents would frequently eat together, alternating households. The Lees also force Mark to walk you home from school, in fears that you would be kidnapped by a random stranger. At least he was good for one of many things- telling you that he’d swing his basketball at any person who would come even close to you.

Most days after your homework sessions, you’d plan new adventures with each other. your week went like this: on Mondays, you went walking along the water, skipping rocks on the bay until the sun went down and could see the glitters of the city sky-line. In the spring, the sky would melt from a tangerine orange color into a musty silver. On Tuesdays, you’d get clam chowder at Phil’s on 2nd avenue, Mark always ruined his shirt ( you would forbid him to wear white on Tuesdays) and then you’d sit on this abandoned rooftop above an old department store. Up there, the air always felt cold so that you would have to blow your warm breaths into your hands, lean your heads on each other’s shoulders as Mark let out his high-pitched laughs. On Wednesdays, it was maple waffles before school in Gas town, the steaming clock chiming delicate music by the hour. Thursdays were meant for taking stupid photos, listening to dusty mixtapes, and hanging out with the rest of your friends. Last Thursday, you would all go to the Capilano suspension bridge and sit on a treehouse’s edge- causing Hyuck to scream from the heights. Jaemin always quieted him down with a bone-crushing hug or a playful kiss, earning a look of disgust from Renjun. You always wanted gelato after that. On Fridays, all of you would stay in for a movie night at either Mark’s house or yours- Jeno punching Chenle to stop him from making fun of the ghosts in the horror movies you’ve been watching. It never works. Saturdays were like Mark’s public appearances at Everlane high’s party scene, one call and you all would be at someone’s house party. You’d never really enjoyed them though: too many people, too much dirty dancing, and the burning stench of vodka stung your nose. The only reason  you would stay is for Mark and the boys. Sundays, your family and Mark’s get together for either dinner or lunch- switching off every week. Your parents would even play a betting game to choose who gets to wash dishes, Mark groaning every time his family loses rock-paper-scissors. Spending time with the people you loved made the days go by faster as you never particularly had bad days in the extreme. Piles of homework and grumpy teachers didn’t hold a candle to what you’d get to do every day- if it meant spending time with Mark. When you go to bed each night, you would feel content- happy, even.

Monday

You still think back to the moment when the boys were eating lunch in the cafeteria, like you did everyday. Chenle was talking about how he’d earn himself detention because he was messing around with chlorine in chemistry in order to make Jisung laugh.

“You’re such an idiot, Chenle. That’s going on your record, you know?” Jaemin scoffs.

Holding his sandwich in one hand, Jeno sweeps his coffee-colored bangs out of his eyes, “What do you expect? it’s Chenle- it’s like he’s powered on candy all the time.”

Chenle slurps up his gummy worms in an exaggerated motion, “I’ve already been through 6 packs of these since this morning. I feel so sick.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hyuck rests his chin on the palm of his hand as he pouts his lips, “Poor baby, eat more and you’ll be blowing up the toilet in no time!”

Chenle squints his eyes at the blond-haired boy, tossing a gummy worm at him, “Hyuck! Stop it!”

Hyuck continues to laugh as he clutches his stomach, Jisung stealing the candy from Chenle’s fingers before stuffing it into his mouth. I pull Hyuck up from his side, “Hyuck, you’re going to fall, sit up!”

Due to his lack of breath, Hyuck stares into my eyes, his golden irises gleaming, “You’re here to catch me though.”

You push him back down, palming my hand onto his face, “Stop reading cheesy rom-com lines. It’s so not cute, cringey at that.” Before Hyuck can finish whining, we’re interrupted by Mark plopping his food tray on the table. Jaemin says, “Someone’s late. Where were you?”

Mark looks like he’s out of breath, heaving and panting as he cards his fingers through the crest of his raven hair. “You guys aren’t going to believe this but, I think Cassandra likes me.”

Jaemin raises a skeptical eyebrow, “You mean Cassandra as the cheerleader who got kicked off the team for drinking last year?”

Suddenly, you stop paying attention to the conversation anymore. All you feel is the weight of your heart sink, my limbs feeling heavier at your side. Hyuck looks at you, noticing your fallen expression before clutching your hand under the table, giving it a comforting squeeze. It seems like Jeno sees it too because he glances from you to Mark as Mark excitedly explains his story. “Yeah, I was just finishing up some tutoring with Roberto from last period and Cassandra gave me her number after that! Isn’t that sweet?”

Jaemin nods disinterestedly, “Yeah, sweet I guess.”

Among the group, you have only ever admitted your feelings for Mark to Hyuck because he cornered you about it one day. Yet, it seems like Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun have caught on from their pitied faces. Mark drones on about how “totally cool” and how athletic he thinks Cassandra is. The difference is you don’t play any sports and you don’t slap coats of makeup on your face every-day before school,  nothing like Cassandra. You shake your head at the ping in your heart- a small glimmer of hope that Mark would ever feel the same about you. By the time lunch is over, classes feel longer than usual. They drag on, your teachers’ words in one ear and out the other. You text Mark that you have to stay over for school so he can walk home without you- a blatant, utter lie. Instead, you opt to put my headphones in and take the long route home. Plopping on to the surface of my comforter, you hear the familiar ring of Mark’s text tone.

[2:55 P.M.] (Marcus Lee <3) Y/n? Did you get home okay?

[2:55] Yeah, I did. Thanks Mark.

[2:56] (Marcus Lee <3) Hey, are you okay? You seemed a bit down today? Like you know you can tell me anything right?

[2:56] Yeah. I know. I’m just a bit more tired than usual. Stayed up last night writing Mr. Gillion’s paper..

[2:57] (Marcus Lee <3) hahahah ewww. That doesn’t sound fun… Do you want to go into town and get churros later?

[2:58] I think I’ll pass today, I got some homework to finish. I hope you have a good day though :)

[3:00] (Marcus Lee <3] hahaha okay. I guess I’ll have to take my mom on a churro date then hahah. See you tomorrow! ;)

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hang out with Mark. Still, you couldn’t forget about the way Mark’s eyes sparkled when he talked about Cassandra, the way his voice cracked from the excitement of talking about it. How can you expect him to know? To reciprocate? It’s not like you were dating, you have no right to be jealous of Cassandra- a pretty girl, someone who had football players falling at her feet. Even if you had told Mark the truth, what if he didn’t feel the same? It would make these awkward, not to mention with your friend group. You shouldn't.

Tuesday

In all honesty, you had forgotten about yesterday’s lunch conversation. That was until the reminder hits you like a slap to the face when you see Cassandra’s arms wrapped around Mark’s neck as he laughs into her shoulder. Renjun and you had been walking to art class, the crack in your heart widening by the second. They fit so well, the way Mark’s basketball jacket matches Cassandra’s cheerleading uniform, the way his teammates and her friends hang out together in a pack. Renjun whispers to you, “Are you okay?”

You nod at him, trying to conceal your emotions, “Just fine, let’s head to class.”

When you pass Cassandra and Mark along with their cluster of friends, Cassandra’s voice comes out in a squeaky tone, “Hey, y/n.” When you turn to look at the pair, you see Cassandra’s hand daintily resting on Mark’s stomach, his eyes wide as saucers when he realizes you and Renjun are in front of him. You hear Renjun mutter an ‘ugh’ after curtly waving to them. Mark leaves Cassandra’s grasp, motioning towards you both, “You guys going to art? I’ll walk with you-”

Before you can answer, Cassandra wraps her thin arms around Mark’s waist, “We have to go help Felix with the party stuff remember?”

Mark scratches the back of his neck before glancing back at her and you with Renjun, his mind in a state of conflict. To make it easier for him, you smile at him, “You go, looks like you’re busy.”

Walking faster, Renjun drags you by the arm as we breeze past the crowd of athletes and cheerleaders. Renjun rolls his eyes again, “I don’t get why he likes her so much, they haven’t even been friends for that long and you’re right-”

You cover a hand to his mouth, “Renjun, it’s okay. I’ve accepted it by now.” You try to convince yourself at the very least.

After art class is done, lunch time seems to come in a hurry. Everyone takes their usual seats, Hyuck on your right with Renjun on your left. Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung sit around you three in a circular formation. Jaemin speaks first, “So, what, are Mark and Cassandra dating now?”

Jeno shrugs his shoulders before stuffing a quarter of a cookie into his mouth, “Don’t know and don’t care.”

You say, “Looks like it, they were pretty intimate in the hallway this morning.”

Renjun and Hyuck make disapproving faces, Renjun quips, “I don’t know. I feel like this is happening so fast and he told me that he really-”

“Shut up!” Hyuck screams at Renjun, throwing a limp french fry at him.

“Ew, what the hell was that for?” Renjun’s eyebrows are furrowed with disgust, patting the fabric of his white denim jacket from any salt crumbs.

Hyuck’s eyes go wide  as he makes a zipping motion on his lips, his blond hair gleaming under the dim lights, “Don’t say it- she needs to hear it from him!”

Renjun shoots back, “But it’s so obvious, what difference does it make?”

“What are we talking about?” Chenle’s face contorts with confusion, Jisung looking at him for any hints.

Jaemin glares at the pair, “Shh, let’s just all move on.”

You say, “I’m with Chenle, what are we talking about?”

Hyuck places a firm hand on my shoulder, his honey blond hair casting shadows on his forehead, “Nothing, it’s not important.”

As you eat, you spot Mark walking over to all of you, his black backpack slinged over one shoulder before setting his food down. “Hey, guys. We can squeeze in two right?”

Hyuck looks at Mark, his eyes furrowing with bewilderment, “Two?”

“Hey guys!” Cassandra’s preppy figure pops out from behind Mark. She looks more done up than before: red lipstick, long platinum-streaked hair in a slicked pony-tail, and the tightest cheer-leading uniform she could fit herself into. She plops herself down in between Mark and Hyuck, taking off the container of her salad before looking around our table. I sense Renjun and Hyuck give me a look while the other boys continue to eat in silence.

“So what did you guys do today?” Mark asks. Jaemin gives him a short response while Jisung explains how the class pet mouse made it’s escape during second hour, earning a chuckle from Mark. You get an odd feeling in your stomach when Cassandra looks at Mark so lovingly at your lunch table. The boys’ dynamic seems almost disrupted every time Cassandra butts in to say that she doesn’t think Jeno’s jokes are funny. As lunch finishes up, the school bell reverberates through the cafeteria walls- a signal for the next class period.

The next class is statistics with Mr. Midas. Out of the group, Mark and Jaemin are the only ones in the same class as you  but it doesn’t help that they’re seated as farway as possible. On the bright side, you’re seated next to Chan, one of Mark’s basketball teammates. Over the course of the year, Chan has always been a kind deskmate by helping you when you’re confused with a problem or sharing his study guide with you. Sometimes you notice he scoots closer to explain a formula and asks you if you’re uncomfortable with his sudden closeness, to which to his relief, you always reply no. Chan is just as handsome as Mark, someone well regarded in the school. No one could resist his flirty charm, the way his chestnut hair curls to one side of his forehead and the way his hoodie falls past his waist a bit. You discover how Chan is really passionate about producing music and running your high school’s channel as a radio dj. When Chan smiles, it makes you happy to see how his eyes crinkle into crescent moons, and how his teeth gleam white when he smiles about the flower you drew him at the corner of his notes.

“Are you doing okay, y/n?”

You give a reassuring nod, “I’m doing okay Chan. Thanks for asking.”

He quirks up his brow, a scar slashing it at the end, “You don’t look okay though. Listen, if you don’t want talk about it, you’re all good, I just-”

Pausing him with the hold of your hand,  you continue, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about it.”

He gives you affirmation, you say, “Have you ever felt unrequited love?”

Chan shakes his head no, leaning back in his chair, “Maybe when I was younger but not now? I’m truly sorry y/n. Whoever it is, anyone who doesn’t see how funny and beautiful you are doesn’t deserve you period.”

You hold your tongue for a bit due to the fact of Chan’s comment catching you off guard. Freezing, he realizes the bluntness of his words, “Oh man, you just said unrequited love and I biffed it right? I didn’t mean it that way-no, wait. You are funny and very pretty so, uh-yeah.”

Bursting into laughter, you put a hand to your mouth causing Cassandra and Mark to look at you from across the room. Soon enough, you tear your eyes away from the students staring at you to focus your attention on Chan. He’s laughing too, his voice full of brightness and mirth. You respond, a light cloud of pink floating your cheeks, the room feeling a bit warmer, “I really appreciate that Chan. Thank you for making me smile today.”

A smirk graces Chan’s face as he says, “Happy to do it, whenever you want really.”

Statistics goes by extremely quickly when you’re sitting next to Chan- it’s like he’s telling you a couple of jokes and then it’s over. As the bell rings, Chan nudges you with his elbow as he packs up his bag, “So, I uh-this friday, we’re having our championship game and this party after? I was wondering if you want to come?”

You hesitate, thinking you might have plans with Mark, yet you decide he would probably hang out with his girlfriend over you anyway.

“I’d love to come. On one condition.”

Chan raises his eyebrows, “And what’s that?”

“You have to win the game.”

Chan throws up his hands almost hitting you in the process, “Well, duh! I’m not going to let you down, I promise.”

Friday

For the past couple days, you haven't heard from Mark. No texts, no calls, and no plans out in the city. You were hurt that the boy you’d call your best friend would ignore you just because he got a new girlfriend, your years of friendship overlooked just like that. When Friday rolls around, you attend the Everlane versus Brisbane championship basketball game. You decide that you’re there to cheer on Chan, the boy who’s taller than the rest, his purple jersey hanging against his muscular frame. You spot Cassandra giving Mark a kiss on his cheek on the court, you have to look away at the sight. By the next hour or so, you’re surprised at how long Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin have been screaming. Each of them held a poster for each Hyuck, Jeno, and Mark- their jersey numbers adorned with dollar store glitter and messy handwriting. When Mark makes a slam dunk in the basket, the crowd goes ear-deafeningly wild, cheering out Mark’s name like a repeated mantra. Shortly after, Hyuck makes an attempt to pass the basketball to Mark; the ball missing Mark’s hands before Chan dribbles it to their opponent’s basket. The cheerleaders dance to the thrum of the crowd screaming Chan’s name over Mark’s, causing Mark to grit his teeth with irritation. For a while, the back and forth of swaying bodies goes on until the Everlane team makes the last shot before the final countdown. When Jeno makes the last point, you’re certain you’ve lost your hearing by then. The cheers ring in the gym, causing the alarm to blare with victory. After everyone exits the gym, you see Mark, Chan, and Jeno being tossed into the air in a sea of fellow players and short-skirted girls as pompoms explode upwards. You decide to wait with Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin in the empty parking lot, waiting for Renjun to pull his car around. Jeno and Hyuck jog to you all first, their basketball duffels hanging from their hands, bodies are drenched with sweat. Chenle says, “That’s some fine work out there gentleman if I do say so myself.” Hyuck does his signature handshake with Chenle, a reckless grin smeared across his face, “I knew we’d win. Brisbane can’t take down the undefeated.”

Jeno gives him a firm nod, slinging his arm around a pleased Jaemin. You smile at the boys, “Congratulations guys, you all killed it on the court.”

Hyuck and Jeno smash you in a sweaty hug, “Aw, thanks y/n. You did well cheering for us.”

You laugh, “Get off, you guys are sweaty!”

Before Hyuck can smear his sweat onto your shoulder playfully, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Y/n!”

It’s Chan. A damp towel hangs off his neck, his nike headband wrapping his forehead under his bangs. “You ready to go?”

You shout, “Just give me a second!”

Hyuck and Jeno give you a knowing look, “Where are you going with Chan?”

You reply, “Oh, we’re just carpooling to the party at Felix’s house.”

Renjun asks, “Also, where’s Mark?”

Hyuck shakes his head in contempt, “He’s heading to the party with Cassandra.”

Jaemin mutters, “Of course he is.”

Of course he would. Mark is one of the captains on the team, why would he be excluded from the after-party? The ache in your heart pings again, you feel sick from the thought of Mark making out with Cassnadra at some gross party. You wouldn’t be able to handle the tears.  Though, Chan had invited you, not Mark- who he didn’t even mention it to you, the least you could do is be courteous. What kind of person gets invited to something and cancels so last minute?

You say, “You guys get to the party and I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Renjun’s eyes crease his concern, “You do know that Mark and Cassandra will be there though right?”

You nod, “Yes. But we won’t mind them, let’s just go have fun tonight.”

After parting, you jog over to Chan who’s tossing his duffel into the trunk of his silver Lexus, his hair damp from the game. He turns to you, grinning, “you ready?”

You smile at him, telling him yes before launching yourself into the passenger seat. Chan turns the ignition, his car interior smelling like cherries from the air freshener that hangs above his head. As Chan drives, the street lamps glow on the side of the road as the moon peeks between the rainy clouds. He rolls your window down, your skin shivering at the cold chill of the night. “So, there was something I wanted to ask you?”

Turning to him, you face the chestnut-haired boy, “You remember stats class a few days ago?”

You reply, “I do?”

“Mark was looking at you the whole time. When you guys hadn’t texted in several days, he asked me if you and I were a thing during practice.”

You quirk your brows up in surprise, “And what did you say?”

Chan smiles to himself, letting out a breathy chuckle, “I said no. But, I was definitely interested.”

You allow yourself to feel nice, to feel like Chan likes you for who you are around him. Chuckling at him, you flip your hair in a sassy manner, “Well, I’ll definitely keep that noted.”

When you arrive at the party, the small two-story house looks like a sight straight out of one of those coming of age movies. The small house is jam packed with people, some hanging out on the lawn as they sip their drinks as music shakes the walls. You spot Renjun’s car from the side of your eye, meaning that your friends had gotten there before you and Chan. Upon entering the house, it’s like a warzone within it. Some people are peacefully talking by the lounge area as they feast on snacks. Some are in the kitchen mixing a plethora of colorful drinks together while also playing a form of beer pong. Girls run up and down the stairs with their friends, some with boys trailing behind them with a trance in their eyes. Some are grinding on each other on the dance floor, sensual music thrumming at the source of the boombox.

The first thing you see are your friends sitting in the corner by the backyard door, Mark on the loveseat with Cassandra practically on his lap. You instinctively grab Chan’s hand so you don’t break down right there. He gives you a surprised glance, “y/n? What’s wrong?”

Instantly, you let go of his hand as you cast your eyes down towards the floor. When you don’t answer, he sees a view of your friends laughing along with Mark and Cassandra. You feel a large hand cover yours which causes you to look up at Chan, “It’s okay y/n. Just stick with me.”

You nod, leading him to the drink table in the kitchen. When he leans down to sniff a large bowl full of sour juices and cubes of fruit, his nose scrunches in disgust, “ugh, jungle juice.”

Out of random courage, you swipe an empty cup from the tower as you shove the metal ladle of jungle juice into it. Downing it despite Chan’s protest, you feel a surge of electricity light your lungs on fire as the beat of your heart quickens from the liquid courage. He laughs, keeping his hand on the small of your back, “You surely make reckless decisions when you’re bothered by something.”

You giggle back at him, “You drink something too, you’re a winner tonight after all.” Chan reaches from a glittery purple bowl that pops with bubbles, “a toast to that, y/n. A toast to that.”

before he downs the liquid in one go. You feel his body jolt from the energy too, a smirk plastered on his face, “Wanna go play a game with some of the boys? Only if you want to, we can talk upstairs too.”

Shaking your head in refusal, you hang on to Chan’s shoulder, “Let’s go have fun.”

Chan grabs your hand, his metal chain bracelet cool on your wrist as he leads you past your friends, Mark, and Cassandra before opening the backyard door. Mark moves Cassandra off his lap, her eyes as cold as ice before she angrily gets up to get another drink. The rest of your friends sit in their circle in awe, glancing down at Chan’s hand enclosed on top of yours. Coolly waving to them, you say, “I’m outside if you need me.” before you meet eyes with Mark- his lips pressed into a frown, his irises shot with hurt. You ignore the ache that grows on the wall of your heart. You tell yourself, Mark’s ignored you all this time because he doesn’t feel the same way and never will. After being outside on the patio for a while, you meet some of Chan’s radio-club friends as all of you play a game of sorry. For a moment, Mark and the others aren’t on your mind, just the fact that Chan is pulling you into an enthusiastic hug after winning a round. You turn to Chan, “Hey, I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom.”

Chan smiles at you before he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of his head, “Sure thing. I’ll be here.”

You’re not even surprised that Chan kisses you, whether or not it’s the alcohol, you don’t mind it. When you head back into the house, you feel an arm grab your wrist and spin you around. Your friends are still sitting where they had when you passed them except Mark is the one boring his eyes into yours as he grabs your shoulders, “We need to talk now.”

Before you can say no, he pulls you to the quieter part of the kitchen, you say with bitterness, “What do you want Mark? I have someone waiting for me.”

Left without any patience, Mark lets out a huff, “Are you and Chan together?”

You sigh, casting your glance at him, “Seriously? It’s none of your business. Second, it’s not like you told me that you were with Cassandra.”

Mark uses his hand to comb back his black hair, making it even more messy, “Y/n. That’s because we’re not together, it’s just complicated and I haven’t had the time to tell you why or how we-”

“Stop right there. You ignored me for days Mark! You never texted or called! What was I supposed to do? Pine after you when you’re chasing Cassandra around?”

Mark’s doe eyes flash with pain, his hand tightening around the sides of your arms, “No! That’s not it! I didn’t mean it that way, I’m just trying to figure out what to do..” You shove Mark off you, his hands sliding off your arms, “Well save it. I’m done with you playing around with my feelings!”

Mark calls after you, tears streaming down your face as you try to make your way to the bathroom without being stared at. It takes all three minutes of some Chris Brown song for you to stop heaving. You feel sick to your stomach, so much for a fun night. You text Chan to meet you outside in front of the house, avoiding the corner your friends were comforting Mark at. Chan finds you leaning against his car, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Giving him the only smile you can muster, you explain, “Listen, I’m so sorry. You invited me to this party and I just-I’m here being a cry-baby and everything. I’m just going to walk home now. I’m sorry.”

Chan shakes his head in definite refusal, “Nonsense. I’m driving you home. I’m about done anyway.”

You ask hesitantly, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

The night drive back to your neighborhood gives you peace of mind. Chan rolls all the windows down as soft music plays from his radio, slowing the bounce of your heartbeat. He’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand rested on yours by your knee, you feel comfortable with Chan. It’s the same feeling that flutters in your stomach when you’re close to Mark and right now, you hate the thought of the black-haired boy that consumes so many of your thoughts. Before Chan’s tires screech to a stop in front of your porch, he turns to you with concerned eyes, lips pressed into a pout. “Come here, y/n.”

You waste no time collapsing into the space on his wide chest, his hands stroking your hair down. Resting his chin on your head, you close your eyes to the rhythmic beat of Chan’s heart as the soft patter of the rain is enough to drift you to sleep. You pull away from his chest, looking up at the shadows in Chan’s eyes, his hair falling near his eye-lids while he glances at your lips before looking down to his lap. He says apologetically, “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to take advantage of your feelings right now. I’m really not-”

You cut him off with your hand pressed to the curve of his cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t waste time to grip the back of your neck, kissing you harshly as he bites the bottom of your lip. You sigh into him, fisting the fabric of his jacket when he moves in even closer to twist a hair behind your ear. When you detach from him, you can’t control the burst of tears that shakes your body. The alcohol blurs the vision of Mark and Chan together as your mind throbs from the effect, leaving you dizzy. You apologize to Chan over and over again, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes. Instead, he kisses his lips to the side of your temple as he urges you to get some sleep. Like the gentleman he is, he walks you to the front door, draping his basketball jacket over your shoulders. Your home is dark- due to the fact that your parents are out of town on a business trip in Toronto so you just flop onto your bed in defeat. Mark’s ringtones shoot off from your phone, notifications of several apology texts and missed calls. Not wanting to check any of them, you toss your cell phone into the grey trash bin that sits by your desk. Going to sleep feels especially difficult when alcohol still surges through your veins and you can’t control the sobs that erupt from your throat. You hear Mark’s car pull up on his driveway, not wanting to see him whatsoever. On your bed, you almost feel him looking up at your window to check if you’re awake- for once, you’re glad it’s curtains are securely shut.

The next few weeks are pretty miserable besides the fact that you’re getting closer to Chan. You don’t acknowledge Mark’s presence anymore. By Hyuck and Jaemin, you’re told he comes by to the lunch table to check if you’re there. You still hang out with your friends separately rather than in your usual group- the web that connects you slowly falling apart. It’s difficult when you have art with Hyuck and Renjun, stats with Jaemin, and ceramics with Jisung, Chenle, and Jeno- as you try to take paths opposite of Mark at the same time. Later on, you explain everything that’s been going on between you and Mark to Chan. He takes it surprisingly well by comforting you and listening to your anger, how he’s willing to let you heal before you two start anything. How could Chan be so patient with you? He says it’s because he really likes you and would rather be there for you as a friend first. When you get home, your parents give you a lecture about starting things with Mark, how they want to have dinner with his family but can’t. Of course, they feel sorry once you explain to them what really happened.

Now, the weather outside seems a lot sunnier, yellow pollen from the peonies float in the air as you make your way out of the double doors. The time is nearing for spring break- a well needed barrier from Mark, from everything. Before you walk your way home, you’re stopped by Hyuck and Renjun. Renjun holds an envelope in his hands before giving it to Hyuck, both of them trapping you, “Y/n. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

You say, “I’m going home now, can we talk tomorrow?”

Hyuck narrows his eyes at me with contempt, “No, of course not. Just hear us out.”

Renjun speaks up too, “Do you have plans for spring break? I’m assuming you don’t because you mentioned a few weeks ago that you didn’t. We’ve got 8 tickets to Victoria island.”

You reply, “And.. your point is?”

Hyuck crosses his arms, rolling his eyes, “The point is to make up. Our group is in shambles because of all this lovesick drama. A trip is a perfect opportunity to mend things.”

Laughing, you cackle at his suggestion, “If you expect me to go then that’s hilarious. I’m not going.”

Hyuck throws up his hands in frustration. “How can you kick it if you don’t even know what will happen?”

Raising your eyebrows defiantly, “Do you remember what happened when Mark and I were in the same room? Hyuck, it’s not happening.”

Renjun grumbles, flicking the envelope in my face, “Fine! We won’t invite Mark then! We just want you to come with us and then we’ll see what happens from there okay?”

Hyuck socks Renjun in the shoulder with a fist before shouting, “How can we not ask Mark?”

In response, Renjun shoots a frigid glare at Hyuck as if he’s threatening him with his eyes,  “We’re just not going to ask him! Y/n, will you come?”

You pause for a moment as you stare back at the pair. You raise your voice to make yourself crystal clear, “I will only go if Mark doesn’t. Simple as that.”

Renjun bobs his head in agreement, “Deal. No Mark.”

When you walk away, you still hear Hyuck berating Renjun for his decision only to be shut up by some snarky comment that comes through Renjun’s lips. The sound of their voices falling away.

First day of spring break

By the time spring break begins, you find yourself standing in front of Renjun’s van with your suitcase packed full of your things. You’re greeted by Renjun, Hyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno first. Of course, Jisung and Chenle are seen scampering across the school parking lot with their duffel bags messily unzipped, some shirts hanging out of the top.

“Didn’t I tell you to pack the night before?” Renjun scoffs at the pair.

Chenle pokes his tongue at the older boy, wrapping his arm around Jisung’s broad shoulders. Jeno holds his hands up in the air before bellowing, “shot-gun!” straight into Hyuck’s ear- causing Hyuck to throw a whiny fit. Once our suitcases are in the back of Renjun’s car, he leans on the side of his van as if he’s waiting for something. Jaemin says, “Okay, isn’t that all? Why aren’t you closing it?”

Renjun has a wicked grin plastered all over his face, “Not everything and not certainly everyone.”

You all turn to face Mark, circles under his eyes, his hair unruly as if he hasn’t gotten sleep in 3 whole weeks. Shoot a menacing face at Renjun, you whisper at him, “You told me Mark wasn’t coming.”

Renjun gives you  an evil, sinister smile, “I crossed my fingers behind my back.”

Having the extreme urge to strangle Renjun on the spot, you ponder about Renjun’s extreme lengths to reach his goal of making up. Before you can walk away from the car, Hyuck drags your hand back to the door of the van, “Ah-ah- y/n. You’re not going anywhere.”

The whole car ride to the ferry is awkwardly silent due to the fact you’re mercilessly squished between Hyuck and Mark. Personal boundaries don’t exist in the car, your legs are practically on top of each other as Mark steals side glances at you from the corner. Getting to the dock port seemed less stressful than you’d imagine it to be. Renjun had parked his van at the base garage of the ferry before unloading everyone's belongings.

Just as easy as it was to get on to the boat, it was easy getting off too. You’d make your way down to Renjun’s car,  Renjun driving it down a ramp and into the pathway that opened into Victoria island. You have to admit to yourself, Victoria island looked even more gorgeous than you had remembered last time you came with your family. During springtime, all the beautiful flowers in Butchart gardens would bloom pinks and purples, the greenery would turn a lush, healthy evergreen, and the city would stay lit for the tourists. It was the perfect place to have a vacation, one with friends at that. Jaemin and Renjun booked a small cottage house for everyone to stay in, one straight out of a fairy tale storybook. The cottage ceiling looked like it was made with hay and lime-green vines, beams of cedar-wood reinforced the walls of the structure. It had a white picket fence that surrounded a small rose garden near the entrance; white lilies floating in an old, peeling fountain. Finally entering the house, you were amazed by the impeccable interior:various paintings of Victoria island, a kitchen that was big enough to seat 10, and bedrooms slacked with ivory/gold wallpaper. Like ants scattering into their units, the boys jumped on their beds that they ‘claimed’ while you and Mark stood in the middle of the hallway. Watching all of them make a clamorous reaction over who got the best room was like watching families seize their buttons during family feud. By observing them, you’ve come to realize that there were only 7 rooms instead of 8. Realizing this, you glance over at Mark who was in turn staring back at you before racing towards the end of the hall- flying to the surface of the bed. Both of you landed on it at the exact same time, faces extremely close together. Hastily, you sit up in an attempt to push Mark off the bed that you claimed first, “Mark Lee, get off my bed now!”

He incredulously stares back at you, “Your bed? This is mine!”

You exclaim, “You’re trying to take my bed now? I clearly jumped on it first!”

“No, you didn’t!”

Bickering back at forth, you and Mark don’t even realize the rest of the boys practically flailing in the doorway, Hyuck saying in a sing-songy voice, “Or.. you could shareee!”

In unison, you and Mark shout, “Hell no!”

You get up first, shoving a pillow at Mark, “Fine, you have it! I’ll room with Hyuck.”

Hyuck clicks his tongue, “Oh no you’re not, y/n. Nada. No bueno.”

Before you can argue with Hyuck or chase him out of the room for that matter, you hear Mark speak up from behind. His voice is shy and quiet, his face a shade of beet red, “You just take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

You turn to face him as you’re about to reprimand him for such a stupid idea until you realize that it’s probably the best decision to make at the moment.

After dinner that night, everyone had settled into their respective rooms. You had changed into a hoodie and sweatpants after you had showered. You sat on your bed, texting Chan goodnight before shutting it off to charge on your nightstand. Mark had stumbled into your shared room with one pillow and a thin fabric cover-(hardly a blanket) before setting it down on the carpet. Seeing Mark in this state, it reminds you of the old days. The way that his headphones sat comfortably on his ears, his black hair matted with drops of water, and his toned frame covered with black pants and a black tee. The hollows of his cheeks make his face more prominent, his lips the color of a strawberry slice. In one swift motion, he wraps the thin cover around his body before turning on his side, “Good night, y/n.”

Unable to say anything, you shut off the lamp- casting darkness all around you. “Good night, Mark.”

You almost forget that Mark’s there in the room with you until you hear the tick of his teeth chattering and the breathy huffs from how cold it is. You sit up to take a look at his shaking figure, the thin material doing no justice as a blanket. You believe that the air bnb manager hadn’t put extra blankets or control instructions for the ac system as you had all looked for them earlier. Deciding to wrap one of the thicker blankets that’s draped over your legs, you almost trip towards Mark’s shuddering body before patting it against him. Before you turn to go back to your bed, you feel a hand curl around your fingers, Mark slightly opening his half-lidded eyes at you. “y/n?”

Pausing, you touch your hand to Mark’s cheek, “Mark, you’re freezing. You should have told me, this blanket cover isn’t any better than a piece of paper.”

Mark shifts his body closer to face you now, his hands still wrapped around yours, “i-i didn’t know.”

“Do you want more of my blankets? I’m kind of used to the cold.”

Mark says, “No, if I take them, you’ll catch a cold.”

“Mark, I’m fine, really.” You insist on letting you help him, the boy shivering from the icy temperature.

His eyes become stern, his muscles stiffening, “y/n, I said no!”

Pausing, retract your hand from Mark’s as the warmth slowly is replaced with cold air. You give him a gentle nod this time, “I-okay.” Mark sits up from his place, fingers running through his messy hair, an earbud still plugged into his left ear, “What I mean is, I don’t want you to get sick. It’d be my fault.”

Instead, you walk back to your spot on your bed, “Look, don’t take this the wrong way but, you can come warm up for a little. Just before you go back to sleep, I promise- I won’t touch you.”

In the dark, Mark’s eyes glint like swirling, black orbs as he nods at you, getting up to take a spot next to you on the bed. He leans back into the pillow by your head, the coolness of it feeling like a cold cloud. Sighing with content, he submerges his body under the warmth of the comforter, careful not to over step his boundaries with you. When Mark lies next to you, you can seem to shut your eyes. Instead, your heart beats out of your chest when you hear Mark whisper. “y/n?”

“Yes, Mark?”

He says with a heavy heart, “I miss us.”

Propping my elbow on your pillow, you turn to face him, “I miss you.”

You choke on your words, your head throbbing with dizziness when you realize what you had just admitted to Mark. You seem visibly gulp, his eyes tracing the crease where the flowery wallpaper meets the ceiling. His voice comes out shaky, “y/n..I-I like you.”

Mark’s earbud sings the words of a beautiful, familiar tune:

Said I never fall, i’d never fall and then I fell for you mhm

Back against the wall, against the wall, and against the wall, that’s how it felt with you mhm

When those words fall from Mark’s lips, all the oxygen from your lungs makes an exit and threatens to not come back in- you’re left stunned. Mark turns his face to you to see your reaction and you stare back at him, eyes widened. Before you have the chance to say anything, Mark presses his lips to yours, rising from the pillow as his nose knocks against yours lightly. You find yourself kissing him back, harder than when you kissed Chan the night of the party. The kiss is full of yearning, almost full of struggling sadness to trap the right feelings- Mark’s hand snakes a hand around your jaw in order to stabilize you. He keeps kissing you aggressively, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as his tongue swipes your bottom lip. You pull away first, fire thrumming in your lungs as you place your hand on his chest, “Mark, you have a girlfriend. We can’t.”

Mark shakes his head slightly, “I’m not dating Cassandra.”

You make a face at him, “What do you mean? Because if I’m a rebound, I don’t want to be.”

Mark chuckles, a smirk snaking on his swollen lips, “Trust me, you’re not a rebound. And, I meant what I said about liking you.”

“Mark, you can’t just tell me you like me and then kiss me like nothing’s happened. I saw you and Cassandra with my own eyes.”

Mark sighs before gazing back at you with his obsidian-colored eyes, his skin glowing from the moon that shines slightly through the window curtains, “I’ve liked you since the day you brought those muffins to my house. I thought you would never see me as more as a friend and I tried to use Cassandra to get over you. I never wanted to burden you if you didn't feel the same. Clearly, it didn’t work. Not even partially. I’m sorry.”

You press your forehead against Mark’s, pressing a lingering kiss to the shape of his lips as you use one hand to pull the hairs on Mark’s nape- causing him to groan before reciprocating.

You whisper to him, a beautiful sound to his ears, “Why are we so difficult? We’re such idiots.”

Placing your head on Mark’s chest, both of you collapse on to the bed, sleep washing over your minds. You hear Mark giggle before putting his right ear bud into your ear, the sound of a man’s voice humming:

One weekend in Portland, you weren’t even my girlfriend

We were walkin’ and talkin’

Then somebody said.. let's get tattoos together, something to remember

If it’s way too soon, fuck it, whatever

Give me shapes and letters

If it’s not forever, then at least we’ll have tattoos together

Mmm, ‘cause I love you

Mmm, ‘cause I love you

When you wake up the next morning, you and Mark are greeted by Jaemin and Renjun cooking breakfast in the kitchen as Jeno, Hyuck, and Chenle play mario kart on the old television in the living room. Jisung is setting the table with eating utensils while also stopping to look at his Nintendo switch every few seconds. Aside from reddened faces and teasing, the boys had already suspected of your making-up based on the blush that coats both of your faces. That afternoon, you call Chan on the phone through facetime, letting him know that you and Mark had made up. Chan tells him how happy he is to hear it, telling you that he’s always known how much Mark had liked you and that he didn’t hold a candle to how Mark would talk about you to the basketball team. You apologize out of worry that you’ve hurt Chan but like the gentleman he is, he tells you that you’ll always be good friends especially when he’s good friends with Mark.

The next few days are like dreams. Together, you, Mark, and the boys go gallivanting across Victoria island through the sea towns made of floating boathouses and seafood restaurants. You bring your polaroid camera with you, capturing memories of Hyuck dropping his ice cream, selfies with Jeno and Jaemin, and seagulls chasing Renjun- all in a few frames. Even one morning, all of you had the spontaneous but rather, stupid decision to get matching commemorative tattoos, each of them a different flower on your wrists to commemorate your friendship. Each afternoon meant picnics at the Goldmere Provincial Park or whale watching tours out on the cobalt waters that were foaming with white. Other days you’d all visit the aviation museum or opt to sample the best chocolate fudge at Roger’s after a small hike.

On the last night of your trip, Mark had made sure that he wanted to take you down Tiffany avenue before meeting up with the boys for dinner. He’d told you to dress nicely in which you all did, leading you by the hand down the shopping street as your tulle skirt wavered behind you. When the both of you came to a balcony that overlooked the water,  the ocean looked so vast like it could swallow you into the great swirls of turquoise and aquamarine as white ocean spray crashed on the sharp rocks. The sky turned a lavender shade that bloomed into a twilight pink, the sun barely touching the tips of the mountains. Mark had placed an item in your hand from his pocket, a pair of cherry earrings he had bought in a souvenir shop when you weren’t looking. It reminded you of the song on Mark’s playlist from several nights before:

Yeah, your cherry earrings are my favorite

It looks so good I had to save it

I’ve been hopin’, prayin’ we last forever

‘Cause there’s nothing better than you and I

A week ago, you told Renjun that in any circumstance, you would never go anywhere if it reminded you of your feelings for Mark, of your friends, of everything that had happened. Now, you’re glad to be able to let go, you’re able to feel the cold wind on the cliffs- Mark right by your side. Being wrapped up in the tight security of your boyfriend’s arms, (yes, Mark had asked for real this time) along with your best friends, you’re careful to not let go of them now. There’s no place that you’d rather be.

[sunsuenm]

Get Paid To Take Pictures With Your Phone – 20 Ways That Work（Next）

This is an article citing a high-quality blog. For more high-quality content, please go to the blog：https://italiangoat.com/

Other Ways To Earn With Photos

You don’t have to be a seasoned photographer — or even artistic — to make money with your photos. Cell phone images of more mundane things can still earn you extra cash. Here are some more options to make money from photos for the more practical types.

#18. Take Pictures Of Receipts

You can get paid for taking pictures of things as ordinary as grocery receipts.

With apps like Fetch and Ibotta, you can get rebates from your grocery purchases. They offer rebates on things you likely buy at the grocery store every week.

Simply download the app, and buy one of the items or brands that offers a rebate (no coupon required). Snap a photo of your receipt, upload it, and get paid via PayPal.

You won’t make a mint on apps like these, but they’re a great way to put extra cash back in your pocket for grocery shopping — something you have to do anyway.

#19. Take Pictures Inside Stores

Dozens of companies want eyes on the ground to assess how their employees treat their customers, how products are displayed, and how clean their stores are. That’s where you (and your trusty cell phone camera) come in.

As a mystery shopper, you pose as a normal customer. But you’re on a mission to covertly take photos of specific things in a store’s interior to give the company valuable information.

Mystery shopping has been around a while, but apps like Mobee, Shopkick, and Field Agent have automated the process. Get notifications of new assignments near you. Sign up for a shop, complete the requirements, and upload your photo inside the app.

Mobee and Shopkick apps pay in gift cards to common stores (Amazon, Best Buy, Sephora, etc.), but Field Agent pays cash via PayPal or Dwolla.

#20. Take Pictures Of Help Wanted Signs

Editor’s Note: In April 2020, Indeed announced that JobSpotter (discussed below) was indefinitely ceasing operations as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. We’ll update this page if the app is brought back online.

By submitting photos of help wanted signs in your neighborhood, you can earn points through the JobSpotter app. JobSpotter posts these jobs to Indeed.com, one of the largest job search engines on the web.

To ensure accurate data about the location that’s hiring, photos must be of signs hung in the window of the establishment. JobSpotter has specific standards for images (not blurry, not taken from a car, contains no people), so be sure to read the requirements before starting this side hustle.

You can redeem JobSpotter points for Amazon gift cards.

#21. Take Pictures Of Yourself Looking Great

Authenticity and real people (not airbrushed models) are all the rage in photography and advertising right now. One of the most unique subjects that you have constant access to is you! Telling your story, showcasing your look, and being yourself can gain you a loyal following as an online influencer.

Influencers have almost boundless income potential as the influencer market is slated to grow to $8 billion in 2020.

If you have a sizable following, brands will pay for individual posts. But if you’re not a big fish yet, companies like Stylinity will pay you a commission for shoppable items in your selfies that feature the brands they work with.

And this isn’t just for the fashionistas. Stylinity works with travel, automotive, home decor, books and electronic brands as well.

#22. Work As A Freelance Photographer

To build up your photography business, try advertising your services on Fiverr and other freelance websites. They broadcast your photography to a worldwide customer base, which is great whether you’ve been doing photography for years or are just breaking into the space.

There’s healthy demand for food images for cooking blogs, product photos for e-commerce stores, and lifestyle stock photos. Rather than taking images and hoping they sell, contracting with a client via Fiverr ensures that you’re producing photos that someone will pay for.

Unlike other photo websites, as a freelancer you work with your clients directly and you can set your deadlines and rates for your services.

Common Questions Can I sell photos that contain people or private property?

You may or may not need permission to sell photos that contain people or property. Copyright law is complicated, so make sure you review the requirements of your chosen platform before uploading your pictures. You can also refer to this FAQ from the American Society of Media Photographers for more info about when you need a model release and/or a property release.

What kinds of pictures sell the best on stock photo sites?

The most in-demand stock photos are those that have a candid, authentic look — things like kids playing, coworkers at a meeting and friends chatting. Also, photos that include people of diverse backgrounds and less-represented demographics are increasingly popular.

Can I sell photos on more than one app or site?

Generally, yes. In fact, it’s a good idea to upload to many sites to increase your exposure as a photographer and up your chances of getting accepted. Each site and app may have different requirements on exclusivity, and some may pay you a larger royalty for exclusive rights to a photo. So do your homework before you upload.

Can I sell pictures of myself?

Yes! You don’t need to be a model, either. In the post-airbrush world, people crave authentic pictures of real people. Most cell phone cameras have a time delay function, so spend some time on the other end of your camera. There’s no reason you can’t be the star of your stock photos.

Where can I learn how to take great pictures?

Photography is a learned art, and as any photographer will tell you, it’s a lot more complicated than just snapping a pretty picture. There are numerous online courses (through websites like Skillshare and Udemy, as well as through colleges) and books on photography. Several blogs also offer great tips and information on how to get started. Get to know the basic functions of your smartphone camera, and when to use them. Pay particular attention to the fundamentals of photography (e.g., the rule of thirds, fill the frame, etc.), since no camera, lens or filter will make up for errors like bad composition. If you’re new to photography, pick up a book on the subject and practice the principles before monetizing your hobby.

Summary One great thing about photography that is unlike many other business ideas and side hustles is its potential as passive income. You only have to shoot, edit, and upload each photo once. After that, you can sell the photo again and again.

None of these photography businesses are get-rich-quick schemes. Each of these apps and websites requires time, effort and a bit of practice on your part to see what works. That’s true in any business.

With the ceaseless hunger of social media users, companies and websites for fresh new content, the need for creative images is greater now that ever before.

And with the near-universal availability of cell phones, you can certainly make money with the camera you carry in your back pocket every day.

I will regularly share the high-quality content of the blog and let it spread out to help more people.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Maou-jou 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Idolish7 s2 10 - 15 (FINAL) | SLS 2

I’ve been holding off new seasonals because of other things, but after I post this I’ll have enough time to get around to them. That’s why I can’t guarantee winter 2021 seasonal tags on this post...maybe the next one will have them...

Maou-jou 9

…it seems shopping channels even are the same in the demon world.

Now even the demons have quests! (The frame is different to the princess’s, though.)

Oh! The quest failed.

Neo Alraune: in flower language, “the 2nd coming of happiness”. The worry from a little while ago was, “I’m worried about my brother.” The worry from recently: “I didn’t think about being happy that the princess didn’t kill my brother.”

The penguin demons are pretty cute!

Don’t you know how parents forbid children from sleeping until they finish all their homework? Must be something like that.

Yoku ganbarimashita! – Syalis worked hard!

LOL, mental age: 3. Poseidon likes cute things…I can’t read a lot of this…the hardsubs cover the JPN text.

They…both succeeded! (…LOL?)

Maou-jou 10

Owarinocity = Endopolis. It’s a good equivalent, if I do say so myself.

…oh yeah. What happened to Alraune? Update: There she is!

Also, that blonde guy in the infomercials doesn’t look too bad…*makes chef’s kiss gesture with one hand* Nice.

I wonder, was Twilight once human…?

LOL, there’s a goat symbol on the cleric’s pyjamas. Also “first time”, LOL.

I think they were playing shiritori at one point.

Hanamaru saikou yoku dekimashita!

Maou-jou 11

…How does one “sleep cheerfully”, anyway?

I think I saw Twilight drop something…some kind of paper…

Aw, Twilight blushing is kinda cute!

LOL, 70s shoujo style. Also, “It cannot be!”

Whoa, she cancelled it?!

I read up on this series on TV Tropes…and apparently the Demon King captured the Princess in her sleep.

Kagemusha? Like a ninja or something?

Apparently the Demon Cleric is much older than he looks.

Ooh! Hypnos is back!

A-whatsit really is abysmal levels of stupid!!! (LOL)

Maou-jou 12 (FINAL)

Who’s that one tiny guy occupying one of the Ten Kings’ seats?

*watching after Christmas, about a week after the anime finished* This is not seasonally appropriate!

…*thinks for a second, then spits* That’s the 2nd Nemu in the fall 2020 season!!!

Ooh, the head paladin doesn’t look that bad, either.

“…is it good to be…”

“…has seized the princess!”

“…that demon king is rather cute.” – See? Someone agrees with me.

Anyways, that was a fun series. See you soon!

Idolish7 s2 10

…Back at it after so long…(I can’t help it though – Crunchyroll, per month, is about double the local Funimation sublicensor’s fees, and for much less content that’s worth my money to boot!)

I’ve always thought Momo was like Sasara (HypMic), so seeing him anguished hurts me in the kokoro too…

I know Banri was involved with Re:vale somehow…this must be it.

…Male idols are also popular among men? Is this why there are 8 (!!!) idol anime in winter 2021 alone…? (Also, that’s why HypMic became popular? Multidemographic appeal crossed over with obvious merchandising opportunities?)

It’s kind of scary how Momo stepped the formality towards Yuki like that (to -san).

I guess in his heart Momo still reveres Yuki, some way or another.

The rakugo curtain really sold the moment that they (current Re:vale) were acting like an old married couple.

Yay! Silver Sky is such a cool song! Of course I recognised the intro when it came on.

…I see. The elder Kujo is entrusting his dream to Tenn, so that’s why he banned Aya from seeing Tamaki. However, it’s hard to know what to feel when Aya speaks in the vaguest terms possible.

I think that was a special ending for only this episode. I don’t know what its name is, but I guess I might recognise it on Spotify one day.

Idolish7 s2 11

LOL, Nagi’s reaction.

Considering the ‘rona is getting worse outside our very windows as we speak (type?), I think it’s correct to be concerned about your future right now.

Looking at these narrow streets reminds me of going to eat hotpot at the end of my Japan trip…only Japanese streets look like that, I think. Hong Kong’s streets are more crowded than that and America likes their suburbia.

Of course, when you say hajimemashite (nice to meet you), someone’s gotta say it back, hence the reply.

Considering there are people all over the world watching the Idolish7 anime, I would say you are telling the world about I7, Riku.

Oh! Restart Pointer! There was an MV for that one…I think it was around the time Idolish7’s MVs started getting better.

So this is the context around the new outfits! Cool!

There have been way too many puns about “idol” being…y’know, “ai (love) doll” and stuff like that…

I have one Twitter person who I follow (DejiNyucu, part of the creative team for Autumn’s Journey) because I don’t get much I7 content and they keep mentioning this “Haruki” person…and suddenly a “Haruki the Betrayer” showed up in the graffiti…they might be the same person, I think. Not Deji, but Haruki. Update: Sakura Haruki, perhaps…?

Sougo’s such a bad liar…

Sometimes, the best way to deal with things is to be direct…(I’m not very good at that, I naturally talk in a very roundabout sort of way.)

Sougo with long hair like Yuki would be really pretty… (<- has an obvious thing for guys with long hair)

Idolish7 s2 12

Nagi’s stupid accent is generally what he’s best remembered for (for me), so seeing him speak normally, and do a press conference on top of that, is…impressive.

A kabedon on top of all this! Whoa!

Shibuya 109 parody…? (I’ve seen that once or twice – parodying that means people know their stuff about Shibuya.)

I think the “it’s overflowing!” is referring to the hype in the “room”.

…this dejected Momo is worrying…(well, he is worrying and I am worrying about him.)

Oh, I see. The person responsible typed the letter so that they couldn’t be traced back. Kind of like those old movies where the culprit would cut letters out of newspapers to make threat mail, but…with even less traces than that, because cutting letters out leaves evidence.

…wow, it took a while for this ep. to have an intro…

…LOL, I just spotted Kenjiro Tsuda cited as the “fake Zero”, meaning the real one might never show up this season.

There’s something really stupid and infectious about these managers’ enthusiasm for drinking energy drinks. It puts a goofy smile on my face.

Is Musubi Tsumugi’s mother…? Update: Yes, she is.

…Wait, so the Chiba Shizuo guy is actually important?!

Idolish7 s2 13

Whenever someone says “by the way”, it means they’re changing the subject. I hate to state to obvious, but Sougo is clearly deflecting the topic of conversation from being about him.

I wonder if this guy (Haw9) is the actual Zero graffiti vandal…?

Hmph, I didn’t realise Tenn doesn’t refer to Kujo-san as his father, but…like that (“Kujo-san”) instead.

Oh hey! These are shots from Vibrato!

Most dramas can be solved with the power of Good Communication. That includes this one.

I feel like “he has a dark side” describes both Tenn and Kujo-san.

“Everyone, remember to wash your hands and gargle thoroughly.” – This is always a good thing to remember in the time of ‘rona. Reminds me of Jakurai’s line in ARB (<- this game started just after the ‘rona came down).

What did Sougo go to uni for (what specialisation)?

Idolish7 s2 14

I just realised Banri calls Momo -kun. Hmm…

Denki = electricity, LOL.

I feel like Tenn is basically Ramuda, give or take actual pink hair…guys in musical groups with pre-existing angst that they become the “centre” of. The fact Fling Posse have Saito Soma and so do Trigger strengthens the connection.

I would watch the heck out of a musical like that! Make it come true, Idolish7! (Also, today is I7 day! I’m not much of an I7 fan outside the anime, but…that’s cool!)

That shot of them jumping! I remember seeing it on the official site before!

Idolish7 s2 15 (FINAL)

There you go! I was wondering where Banri’s injury was – that was the only bit that didn’t add up for him to be Yuki’s old partner.

Hmm…Momo is 4 years younger than Yuki but 2 years younger than Banri…

This episode has a real concert vibe to it, to the point where I got startled by how loud the yell was at one point. (Even if it is mostly stills.)

LOL, lookit Okazaki!

Apparently, if you’re a hako oshi, you like all the members of a group. Someone with a green light and a pink light likes both members of Re:vale.

LOL, Usagi for Asahi beer.

…I forgot Nagi is 19.

…Ooh, I think that’s the kid from ZOOL. No wonder they needed a season 3!

That’s all. See you next time!

SLS 2

“fine and upstanding person” – That’s…hard to believe, Hayato.

I wonder how many bois Toboso designed for SLS…?

…The episode title is actually “Blank”. Not “Break”.

One of the guys’ shirts says moteki on it. That’s a period in one’s life where one enjoys more romantic attention than usual, literally “popularity season”.

The subs missed an I, so initially I knew Kiriyama’s name as “Kiryama”.

There are meant to be 2 wings, right…?

“He who controls information controls everything, right?” – For once, I’m surprised Hayato is right (and not just in that smug way of his).

“…I’m being treated like a manager.” – But Hayato is a manager! (In a sense.)

The plait guy jumps to nicknames really fast…also, why do I get the feeling Maeshima will lose the key?

I hate to say this Maeshima, but I side with your childhood friend (Kiriyama) here. As much as the anime wants me to back you, I’m watching for everyone else at this point.

That blocky building looks pretty cool. I think Zel (Archi-Anime) would like it.

Sasugai’s setup looks pretty cool, including his chair.

…hmm, Maeshima’s like me in a sense. I learn best by copying others, but memory is my best asset. If I don’t regularly train the fundamentals, I suck at everything. That said, I don’t have an eidetic memory. Also, I didn’t quite figure out Ken = Ken(sei Maeshima) until I watched long enough to connect the dots.

LOL, Derry’s. (<- reminded of a word for “butt” <- derriere)

Well, the guy’s (Souta…?) shirt does say moteki…

Kiriyama kinda looks like Jyuto (HypMic), come to think of it…Right down to his angry streak (although Jyuto has a reputation to keep as a “cool dude”, while Kiriyama is more of a Manza (Boueibu HK) and he’s more angry than he looks).

…This ED is nothing special.

…Hmm? Is that a small Terauchi and Maeshima…?

I think I’m sold for now, but I’m rooting for the other team, not Maeshima’s…not yet, anyways.

[ft-dads-au]

Spellbound - Chapter 2

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Fall Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1

Chapter 2: Fall

The sound of the backpack zipper opening seemed louder than it should due to the library being so silent, but the guy in front of Rogue didn’t seem to notice, muttering to himself as he emptied what must have been half its contents in search of something.

Rogue watched in silent fascination as a small pile of receipts, empty food wrappers, used paper products, and a few jewels of loose change littered the previously pristine table, finally ending when the desired item was found. A familiar book, one which he had just put away in his own neatly organized backpack, sat in front of the stranger.

Foreign accent, tall, blond, wearing crop tops… As Rogue observed him more closely, he was excited to realize he’d seen this guy before.

“You’re in my Bio class!”

“Really? I didn’t notice, classes here are so much bigger than I’m used to. The name is Sting Eucliffe,” he extended his hand out to Rogue in greeting, waiting patiently for him to shake it.

Rogue was amused by the formality, but he shook it nonetheless, figuring it must be more common wherever he was from.

“I’m Rogue Fullbuster,” he introduced himself, “Nice to meet you.”

“Same!” Sting beamed, again with that smile that was brighter than Rogue’s future, “Did you already do the worksheet?”

Rogue groaned, putting his head on the table for dramatic effect. The sound of Sting’s laughter surrounded him, making him lift his head again to see what Sting looked like when he laughed. Rogue should probably shush him, but he didn’t want to.

“It’s not that bad,” Sting commented, opening the book to the chapter Rogue had just closed.

“Easy for you to say,” Rogue grumbled, “I’m a creative writing major, all this stuff is just gibberish to me.”

Sting gazed at him in surprise, “Why are you even taking it?”

“It was the only open class that would fulfill the requirement,” Rogue sighed, cursing himself yet again for waiting til the last minute to pick his classes.

“That’s rough,” Sting commiserated, “I can try help you if you want?”

“That would be amazing!”

“Sure,” Sting grabbed his book and moved to the seat next to Rogue, once again sifting through the contents of the backpack that Rogue had begun to consider more of a trash bin until he retrieved his laptop and opened it.

While it was busy booting up, Rogue got distracted by the scent of whatever cologne or body spray Sting was wearing. It smelled nice, although he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. All he knew was that it was pressing buttons that should be left unpressed if he ever wanted to get that biology assignment done.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” he finally managed to tear himself away from his thoughts when he realized Sting was talking to him.

Everything about this guy was just a little too something, too loud, too messy, too handsome, a little voice inside his head added smugly, and he certainly couldn’t deny it.

“I was just asking how far you got?” Sting asked once again, looking slightly amused.

“Honestly?” Rogue grimaced, hating to admit he was having so much trouble, “I entered my name?”

And there was that laugh again, warm and full of mirth, lifting Rogue’s previous mood effortlessly. “Okay, uhm, let’s start at the first problem then.”

Sting began to explain the concepts that minutes ago had been incomprehensible. To his amazement, Rogue found that once he was able to concentrate on the words rather than the man who was saying them and his cute accent, he was actually able to understand some of it. Sting never lost patience with him, only stopping once to chuckle, “Wow, you really suck at this,” before launching into another explanation.

An hour later, they had both finished the homework. Rogue looked out the large library windows, not at all surprised to see it was already dark.

“I don’t even know how to begin to thank you,” he admitted, “there was no way I would have gotten that done without your help. I feel like I should make it up to you somehow.”

Sting was about to reply when his stomach decided to do so for him. With a slight tint to his cheeks, he asked, “I don’t suppose you know any good places to eat around here? The food at the dorm kind of-”

“Sucks,” they both said in unison.

“Let me buy you dinner, it’s the least I can do,” Rogue suggested, even though they’d been working on homework it was the most fun he’d had in a long time.

“Alright, I gotta warn you though, I eat a lot,” Sting had already begun to stuff his book and laptop back into his backpack, along with all the other items that he’d piled on the table.

Rogue wasn’t too worried, he ate a lot also. He had already put his stuff away, so he led the way to the library exit, mildly surprised to see Sting hurry ahead of him to open the door, holding it open until Rogue walked through.

Well, that was considerate, Rogue thought, once again flashing to his dream and the traits his dream self had written on the strips of paper. What had they been?

Oh, yeah, that’s right. Rogue could remember quite clearly the one that said nice ass, but that wasn’t something he was just going to check out right here and now...

That thought lasted a whopping 3 seconds before Rogue could feel the corners of his lips tugging upwards because who was he kidding, he totally was. And it was easy enough to be subtle about it. All he had to do was reach for his pocket to grab his pack of cigarettes- which he was going to do anyway- and pretend he was making sure nothing would fall out when in reality, he was looking just a few extra inches to his side.

Yep, it was pretty nice, and the rest of him wasn’t bad either. Rogue cupped his hand around the cigarette sheltering it from the wind while he lit it, already considering where to go for dinner.

He noticed the slight wrinkling of Sting’s nose at his smoking, but if it bothered him, he chose not to say anything, so Rogue decided to engage him in conversation.

“Anything you’re in the mood for?”

“I don’t suppose you know any good places that serve seafood?” Sting asked eagerly.

“Seafood?” Rogue was taken aback, that was definitely not what he’d been expecting to hear. “Uhm, I think there might be a place a few blocks away from here, my parents used to take us there.”

Rogue kept his cigarette in his mouth as he did a quick search on his phone for the restaurant he was thinking of, relieved to see he’d been right, the place was only a few blocks away.

“Looks like you’re in luck,” Rogue said, leading the way to the address listed on the site.

“Thanks,” Sting fell in step beside him, looking decidedly chipper.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Rogue smirked, “it might be terrible.”

“Can’t be any worse than what I’ve been eating lately,” Sting muttered, “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d tire of junk food.”

“I feel ‘ya, ever since my parents moved I’ve been eating crap too. Should’ve let my mom teach me how to cook when she offered,” Rogue laughed, remembering his few disastrous attempts at cooking for himself. “So, where are you from anyway?”

“Edolas,” Sting replied, and taking in Rogue’s blank expression added, “It’s an island to the east of here.”

“An island, huh? This must be pretty different for you,” Rogue commented, “What do you think of Magnolia so far?”

“I haven’t really got a chance to see very much of it yet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, maybe I can help with that,” Rogue offered, hoping that Sting would take him up on it so that he could see more of him.

They chatted on the way to the restaurant, Rogue asking questions about Edolas and receiving responses that he only half-listened to, too intent on watching the way Sting’s eyes lit up when he was excited, or the way he used his hands to talk. Much too soon, they had arrived at the restaurant, which was a bit fancier than he remembered.

Enough so that he worried they might be sent away, given Sting’s outfit. However, the greeter only gave them the briefest of glances when he asked for a table, replying in an apologetic voice, “I’m sorry sir, we are reservation only and we are unfortunately all booked up for this evening. Perhaps you can join us another time?”

Rogue thanked her and went looking for Sting, who had somehow disappeared from his side. He found him standing in front of a lobster tank, which was full of the crustaceans, each with their claws held shut by a band.

He couldn’t help a smile, Sting was talking to the lobsters contained within, arms once again moving a mile a minute, but it was his words that he found amusing.

“Aren’t you a pretty fella?” Sting cooed at the largest lobster Rogue could ever remember seeing. “Bet you look even better inside my belly.”

“Making friends?” Rogue teased, ignoring the looks they were getting from the other people who were waiting to be seated.

“Oh, haha,” Sting replied, hand moving to his neck, “Never seen one that big before.”

“That’s what he said,” Rogue replied out of habit, but he was surprised to see Sting stare at him curiously.

“Oh, that’s just something my friends-, “Rogue began to explain but thought better of it, “You know what? Nevermind, stupid joke.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that joke before,” Sting clarified, “I was just surprised that you used he.”

“Is that a problem?” Rogue tensed slightly, he thought he’d gotten a certain vibe from his friend earlier, but maybe he’d been wrong?

“I’d hope not,” Sting laughed, turning back to the lobster tank and mouthing Thank You before cheerfully adding, “I’m still going to totally eat you, though.”

“I’m sorry to say, you’re not,” Rogue announced, “They’re booked for the evening.”

“Oh man, that sucks,” Sting whined, “I was looking forward to it.”

“I think the place next door sells fish sandwiches,” Rogue cajoled, trying to get out of the restaurant before they caused a scene.

“Not what I had in mind,” Sting pouted but seemed to consider Rogue’s offer nonetheless, finally turning back to the lobster tank and pointing at it. “Don’t look so smug Sheldon, this isn’t over,” before following Rogue out the door.

The place next door did indeed sell fish sandwiches, along with a host of other things, but it was also extremely noisy. Rogue didn’t mind all that much, he was used to Fairy Tail on weekends after all, and few things were louder than that, but Sting looked disappointed.

They put in their order at the counter and sat down at a table, waiting for their number to be called. Music was blaring from the speakers, and people were yelling in an attempt to be heard over it.

“This is worse than my dorm,” Sting yelled across the table.

Rogue shrugged, shouting back, “My band plays the bar circuit on weekends, I’m kind of used to it.”

“I know, I saw you guys play last weekend.”

“Oh? What did you think?” Rogue asked, he knew his guitar playing was decent, but he was always nervous to hear of what people thought.

Their number was called just as Sting was about to answer, and Rogue couldn’t blame him for hurrying to fetch their food, considering they were both starving, but it still made Rogue wonder if he’d been avoiding his question.

They ate their sandwiches, attempting some small talk, but as most of it got lost in the noise, they soon gave up and tried to get out of there as quickly as possible. In a record 15 minutes, they were back outside, and Rogue noticed Sting gazing at the other restaurant with longing.

“Fish sandwich not up to your standards?” he teased.

“It was alright,” Sting muttered.

“I sure hope so, you ate five of them!” Rogue laughed, “I thought that lady was gonna pass out when she saw how much food we ordered.

“Yeah, that was kind of funny,” Sting admitted.

Rogue looked at his watch and noticed it was getting late. Too bad it was Wednesday, else he could’ve asked Sting if he wanted to get some drinks. The dinner hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d hoped. “We’ll just have to make a reservation next time,” he suggested, already thinking of a retake at the fancier, more atmospheric seafood restaurant.

“Next time?” Sting raised an eyebrow, “I like the sound of that. Does that mean I can get your number?”

“Sure, but only if I can get yours too. I don’t think I’ll pass Bio without you,” Rogue retorted.

“Not the answer I was looking for, but it’ll do for now,” Sting winked, handing Rogue his phone so he could plug in his number.

0-0

October 10, 2012

Although Rogue was used to having an audience by now, it felt kind of weird to have a single spectator during a rehearsal. He wasn’t the type to enjoy being in the spotlight all that much, but when they played in crowded student bars, he’d quickly get swept up in the atmosphere and forget everything but the songs they were playing. That proved to be somewhat more difficult with someone as distracting as Sting watching them, as even though he was casually doing some homework, he’d break into a wide smile every time his eyes met Rogue’s, which happened, well…quite a lot of times.

And if that wasn’t enough of a distraction already, Rogue could practically feel Totomaru’s eyes burning into him, and he could tell by the fierceness of his drum playing that he wasn’t too happy about the situation.

Maybe he should have thought twice before suggesting Sting come along to band practice, but then again, it shouldn’t be such a big deal. The only reason why he’d come up with the idea was that they had agreed to study at Rogue’s place after, since the library had been so busy lately. If Maru wanted to have a jealous fit over that, it shouldn’t be his problem, right? They’d broken up, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

With that in mind, and because he didn’t want to get teased for being distracted later, Rogue doubled up on his efforts, and...okay, maybe he wanted to show off a little as well. It proved to be good motivation, and soon those pretty blue eyes became a muse rather than a distraction.

The love songs they often practiced suddenly took on new meaning, their words resonating as they flowed through him, making it difficult for him to meet Sting’s eyes, too afraid of exposing the feelings that he didn’t dare give a name to so soon.

At any rate, they played the stars from the sky, and satisfied with their progress, Gajeel called for a smoke break. As Rogue put his guitar away and grabbed his jacket, he was surprised to see that Sting was also putting on his coat, “Fresh air sounds good,” he smiled, turning to Juvia as he asked, “aren’t you coming?”

“The air is never fresh around those three,” Juvia snorted, and she grabbed a sketchbook and a pencil case from her bag to keep herself busy, as she always did.

They walked through the building to the alley where they smoked most of the time, so they wouldn’t block the sidewalk in front of the entrance.

“Are you really that cold?” Rogue frowned at Sting, who buried the lower half of his face inside his scarf, pulled the hood of his winter coat over his head, and shoved his hands inside his pockets. The big fluffy fur trim that encircled his face made him look like he was about to scale Mt. Hakobe, instead of merely joining Rogue in the alley for his smoke break and he found that kind of adorable.

“I’m from an island,” Sting whined, his voice sounding muffled from behind the scarf, “It’s so much more colder over here, we usually don’t get these kinds of temperatures until it’s almost Christmas. How are you two still wearing only a shirt and a leather jacket?”

“You should see my brother, he’s probably still walking around in just a t-shirt,” Rogue chuckled, lighting his cigarette and passing the lighter to Gajeel, who was holding out an open hand. “Does it ever snow in Edolas?”

He thought about the fun they could have once it was really starting to get cold, perhaps introducing Sting to some things that were entirely new to him. That is, assuming he wouldn’t have resorted to hibernation.

“It does, but like, very rarely? Maybe we get a day or two, or a week, at most? Usually, temperatures are well above the freezing level again by the end of January.”

“Heh, just wait until you’ve experienced a Magnolian January,” Gajeel snorted, exchanging a knowing look with Rogue and Totomaru, who lit up a cigarette as well, “You’ll be claiming we’ve hit an ice age.” He held his cigarette between his lips as he reached out to touch the fur trim on Sting’s jacket, his eyebrows knitted together in an apprehensive frown. “At least you’re already dressed for one, ’s this shit real?”

“Eww, of course not!” Sting exclaimed, slightly offended but seemingly not minding the intrusion of his personal space.

“Good.”

Gajeel backed off again, satisfied with that answer, and Rogue breathed a sigh of relief at the thought that they’d all been spared of one of his seemingly endless rants. But on the subject of personal space, Rogue considered his definitely invaded when Maru moved closer to him, putting his hand on Rogue’s shoulder.

“So, Sting-” Maru blew a cloud of smoke in Sting’s direction, “have you done a lot of sightseeing already?”

Waving the smoke away, Sting shook his head, “Not yet, I’m just starting to find my way around the university and stuff, but I was planning to do that during fall break.”

“Cool. You should take a day trip to Hargeon Port, oh, and try one of those canal rides here in Magnolia.” Looking at Rogue and giving his shoulder a squeeze, Maru continued, “We did that on some of our dates. It was really great, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was nice,” Rogue agreed with a forced smile.

They’d had a great time together, he couldn’t deny that, and even if he’d ended their relationship, he still valued their friendship. But Maru made it no secret that he still had feelings for him, and Rogue was getting more and more frustrated by his constant attempts at getting back together. He just didn’t know what to do to make him understand that without snapping and possibly causing a big fight between them.

He calmly removed Maru’s arm, taking the last hit from his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it, “Let’s go back inside, we still have studying to do.”

“Sure, book nerd,” Maru teased, ruffling his hair.

“Knock it, skunk!” The familiar nickname slipped out before he knew it as Rogue tried but failed to swat Maru’s hand away, bringing him back to times when things were a lot less complicated between them. Maybe, hopefully, those times would eventually return, when Maru would move on just like Rogue had done.

“Come on, wouldn’t want you to freeze to death,” he joked at Sting, sticking out his tongue at the dramatic pout he received in response.

They went back inside and played a few more songs, the newer ones they hadn’t gotten a chance to practice last week since the studio had to close for repairs due to the fire. All the while, Rogue was dying to leave, for two reasons. He wanted to study, not just because that meant spending time alone with Sting, but because midterms were coming up. But the main reason why he wanted to get them out of there had everything to do with the way Sting was getting awkward under Maru’s scrutinizing stares.

He was more than relieved when the song they’d agreed to be their last had ended. Flashing Sting an apologetic smile, he quickly put his guitar into the carrier and grabbed the rest of his stuff. “See you guys next week,” he called over his shoulder as he led the way out of the studio, walking a little faster than usual.

“Sorry it took so long, we have a gig this weekend,” he explained, searching his pockets for his car keys, “Shall we get some food delivered? We can get started while we wait.”

“Yeah, good idea, I’m starving!”

“So, three large pizzas then?” Rogue grinned, already used to the ridiculous amounts of food Sting put away regularly.

Sting’s face wrinkled in thought, “You think that’ll be enough?”

“Gotta leave some room for dessert,” Rogue shrugged smugly, “Unless, of course, you don’t want any ice cream, or lava cakes, or…” Me, his thoughts happily supplied.

“There’s always room for dessert,” Sting replied very seriously, “it’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Dessert is not a meal!” Rogue laughed, and although Sting was trying to keep a straight face, he couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes it is. I say so,” Sting claimed, losing the ability to hold back his laughter before he’d finished the sentence.

They got into the car, immediately bickering over the music that played on the radio, and Rogue was amazed at how at home he already felt around Sting like they had known each other for ages rather than just a short week.

0-0

They were still laughing when Rogue opened the door to his house, although he wasn’t sure what they were even laughing about, he just knew it felt nice. He took off his shoes and showed Sting where to put his so as not to get any dirt on the floor.

Rogue led the way to the dining room table, where they both dumped their backpacks and Rogue’s guitar.

“So this is where you live,” Sting commented as he looked around.

“Yep, oh bathroom is that way if you need to go,” Rogue pointed at the door to the half bathroom that was located just off the kitchen while he looked up the number for the pizza place he liked.

“Don’t forget to get the lava cakes, “Sting urged, tossing his credit card at Rogue, “My treat this time.”

Just to mess with him, Rogue pretended to forget the lava cakes when he got the pizza place on the line and placed their order, only mentioning them at the very last second. The poor soul on the other end of the line probably didn’t know what hit them when Sting’s gape of horror had Rogue in tears, wheezing as he listed his address and managed a “See you later.”

As soon as he’d hung up and put his phone away, he knew he was going to pay for it. Sting came charging at him with one of the soft pillows from the couch, delivering a few well-placed blows as they tumbled to the floor.

Still laughing, Rogue held his arms up in mock defense from the continuing onslaught, “I give, I give!”

Sting let up, blue eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned ever closer before grabbing the pillow and getting up, leaving Rogue feeling incredibly disappointed. “Thought so!” he grinned victoriously, holding out his hand to help Rogue off the floor.

Rogue released a sigh, playing it off as a side effect from his laughing fit, “Alright, let me show you around the house, I doubt you’ll be focused enough to study with lava cakes on your mind.”

There wasn’t that much to show since Sting had already seen the hallway and the living room, which crossed into the dining room, but Rogue needed something to drag himself down to earth again. He showed Sting every room in the house except for his parents’ bedroom and their bathroom, finally ending the short tour in the basement.

“Guest bedroom-” Rogue opened the door to the room his dad and Gildarts had built for Cana when she, Gray and Rogue were in their teens, so she could have her own room and Gray didn’t have to share his with Rogue anymore. It hadn’t been used in a few years, and over time it had been filled with all sorts of old junk that his parents had meant to sort out and either donate or throw away.

“Still more tidier than my room at the dorm,” Sting chuckled sheepishly, “at least here you can still see the floor.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Rogue muttered under his breath before turning around to his favorite part of the house, “And last but not least, the entertainment room -,” he was about to say more when Sting interrupted him.

“You have a pool table?! That’s so cool, can we play a game while we wait for the pizza?” Sting asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Rogue shrugged, setting up the table while Sting grabbed some cue sticks, “You any good?”

“I’m alright,” Sting conceded, handing Rogue a stick while grabbing some chalk and applying it to the tip of his own.

“Well then, show me what you’ve got,” Rogue taunted, completely trash-talking cause regardless of owning a table he was only average at it.

“Alright,” Sting furrowed his brow in concentration and hit the cue ball as hard as he could, but even though it made an impressive sound, none of the balls went into any of the pockets. He bit his lip, looking at the floor. Clearly, that hadn’t gone like he’d wanted.

Rogue laughed, “Well that was, uhm… something. Wanna try again?”

When Sting nodded, he reset the balls and stood back. This time it went much better, and they started a proper game with Sting calling stripes.

“So, uhm, can I ask you something?” Sting was fiddling with his cue stick making Rogue awfully curious as to what he wanted to know.

“Could I even stop you?” Rogue snorted good-naturedly as he set up for his next shot.

Sting chuckled but wouldn’t meet his eyes, “What’s the deal with the drummer? He was definitely shooting daggers at me earlier.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Rogue aimed the cue ball at the nearest solid ball, attempting to get it into one of the side pockets, not at all surprised when he missed. With a sigh, he added, “We used to date, but I broke it off. He’s just having a hard time accepting that.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” Sting commented, “Isn’t it hard to be in the same band?”

“He’s a good drummer, I’m kind of hoping he’ll get over it sooner rather than later,” Rogue heard the doorbell ring and put his stick away to head upstairs. “Guess that’s game.”

Sting followed, needing to sign the slip for their food. Once the door was opened, he moaned happily at the smell of chocolate wafting towards him, and if Rogue didn’t know better, he would have thought the idiot was getting ready to hug the delivery man.

“Down boy,” he muttered, feeling a tad jealous for no discernible reason, even as Sting looked back and grinned at him, arms laden with boxes.

“Food!” he cheered, carrying the boxes to the dining room while Rogue got some paper plates and sodas ready.

By the time he brought them in, Sting was already inhaling the first pizza. Twenty minutes later, there was nothing left, and after doing a quick cleanup, it was time to study.

“Do you want me to play some music or something?” Rogue asked.

“No, this is great,” Sting answered, looking down at his phone. “I work better without it, it’s one of the reasons I go to the library, there’s always music playing in our suite, and I feel like a jerk to ask them to turn-” he stopped in the middle of the sentence as he looked at his phone once again and started laughing.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, you should see this,” Sting laughed, “my roommate just sent me this great TikTok!”

“After we get some studying done,” Rogue reminded him.

“Right!” Sting gave him a mock salute, grabbing his backpack and opening it up to grab his laptop. “Oh hey, can I get your wireless password?”

Rogue tried to ignore the amount of trash that fell out of the backpack in the process, but it was a losing battle. “Do you want me to show you where the trash bin is?”

“Hmm?” Sting peered at him absently, still in the process of booting up his laptop.

“Nevermind,” Rogue sighed, entering the password and sitting down with his own laptop. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t make much of a difference if he got Sting to tidy up the backpack now, it would probably be just as messy again within a few days. Sting just wasn’t a neat person, which was just about the only flaw Rogue had found in him so far.

“We should start with Bio before we get tired,” Sting suggested, pulling his book out and opening it to the chapter they had been covering that week. For the next hour, Sting went over everything they were supposed to have learned, explaining it so that Rogue was able to understand it.

He took lots of notes, knowing he might forget when he had to study without Sting there, but once they were done and had each moved on to different subjects, Rogue mostly ogled his new friend. Biology was his weakest subject, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way Sting’s forehead furrowed in concentration when he read something he didn’t quite understand, or how his tongue peeked out when he was doing math problems. It was very distracting, and Rogue couldn’t help but wonder what it would have felt like if Sting had kissed him earlier, rather than just teasing him with the pillows.

“Aren’t you going to study?” Sting interrupted his train of thought, which was probably a good thing.

“I sort of am, I’m thinking about this story I have to write for one of my classes,” Rogue lied, having not done anything but stare for the last thirty minutes or so.

“Funny, your thinking looks a lot like checking me out,” Sting grinned.

“Someone’s a little self-centered,” Rogue retorted, reluctant to admit that Sting had pretty much hit the nail right on the head.

Sting snickered but chose not to comment, going back to his book and making exaggerated expressions every few minutes until he was once again distracted by his phone.

Rogue made a point of opening a book and staring into it, embarrassed at having been caught. Would it have been so bad to admit it? Time passed quickly as they both tried to get their work done, and much too soon, it was time to drive Sting back to the dorms.

On the way back, he thought about how pleasant it had felt to have company, even if they had studied for most of it. Maybe he should invite Sting over to study more often, midterms were coming up soon, and he’d definitely need help with Biology.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Sting announced with great enthusiasm, “I got so much stuff done! It would have taken me days to get that done in my room or even the library.”

“Midterms are coming up,” Rogue dangled an unspoken invitation, waiting to see how Sting reacted.

“Oh that would be great, even only for a day or two,” Sting beamed, “That would be so much help.”

Maybe it was because of how much fun they’d had, or the way Sting made him forget so many things that had used to bother him. All Rogue knew was that his infatuation with Sting continued to grow in leaps and bounds, making him question whether he could possibly already be falling in love with the exchange student.

He wasn’t really the type of person to be spontaneous, but the reality was that he didn’t have a lot of time to figure out his feelings, not when Sting would return home at the end of the school year.

So before he could overthink it or let himself chicken out, he blurted out, “Why don’t you stay with me for exam week?”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Picking Up Worms

Genre: Growing up

words: 2k

Summary: a story about a young girl and her hobby of picking up worms after it rains.

Content warning: suicide

-------

She leaned down, squared her shoulders, and picked up a worm. It’s fat body was slick and cool to the touch and it squirmed between her pinched fingertips. It was a big one - as if it had eaten extra dirt or had extra children or was some sort of worm royalty that filled up the same space as three other worms.

Kiki held her breath as she transported the king worm painstakingly across the sun drenched sidewalk and over to the Henderson’s overgrown yard.

It wiggled uselessly from side to side the second she put it down and she murmured a few words to its sightless body. “Sorry for touching you,” Kiki whispered, “you can go back home now.”

Her friend sneered and wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you know it’s just going to be eaten by a bird later?”

Kiki just shrugged and straightened up, “Now he won’t get stepped on.” She didn’t really care what Samantha from next door thought. Not after the many times she had seen her pick her nose and eat it. Samantha rolled her eyes and they stomped into a puddle together until their shins were muddy with brown water and their socks were soaked through.

----------

Kiki’s parents were yelling. A baritone and a shrill shriek chasing each other in a tornado of words that she was sure would leave bee-stings and bruises on their hearts. Kiki put her fists over her ears in the hallway and hunched over like a dog about to puke. 

The rain drummed heavy against the apartment roof and a baby cried somewhere on the third floor in a wane voice. Kiki ducked her head down and tried to sink into the floor.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to come home at eight every night if you would put any effort into looking for a job.” That was her dad. Big, tired, weighed down with hard patches of skin and a big smile if he would smile.

“Do you not think I’m fucking looking, Doug? And don’t you dare say raising a kid ain’t work too,” she stomped her foot like she was breaking a wine glass at a wedding, “How am I even supposed to have my own life when you barely help with that child? God knows she needs it. And I don’t want to-”   Kiki crawled toward the front door, jiggled the lock open and bolted down the apartment stairs into the courtyard at full speed. Rain dripped down her cheeks and splashed down the back of her neck in cold streams and she scoured the ground for worms freeing themselves from the drowning earth and beaching themselves on the sidewalk.

She scanned and scanned the square until the patter of rain slowed and her hair was soaked through all the way to the scalp.

She finally trailed back upstairs and thought about failed arctic explorers who died huddled together on big metal ships with Victorian curse words on their lips. Her dad patted her hair dry when she snuck in and assured her that worms didn’t come out at night anyway. They only came out for the sun.

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

“They breathe through their skin.”

“What?” Kiki didn’t look up from her phone where she was scrolling. “Worms. They breathe through their skin.”

Andrew propped himself up where he lay diagonally across her lavender comforter. “Are you even trying to do the pre-algebra homework?” He said with his own homework open to page 12 or 15 or whichever one it had been. Kiki just grunted back. “No. I stopped an hour ago.” He let out a crickety laugh and sank toward her. “You’re wild. You know that? I can tell you don’t even care about Mrs. Shaw's class.” He said and glanced down at her lips.

She knew he was thinking about kissing again, because Kiki had a feeling that he was always thinking about kissing. She didn’t remember why she said yes when he asked her out on the bus that morning in August on the first day of eighth grade, but she said yes.

He held her hand and bought her packs of gum and only sometimes smelled like old sandwich meats and sour deodorant. Cindy in Homeroom said he was a perv with pictures of naked anime girls on his phone, but Kiki hadn’t bothered to actually check.

It was his phone, and she didn’t care.

He kissed her while she was still glancing down at the Wikipedia article and thinking about how worms breathe through their skin and were basically one long digestive system. She imagined what it would be like to have your home and food source flooded and live your life struggling up and up and up into a cruel, bright world above every time it rained.

And he kept kissing her until her mom knocked on the door and they jumped apart with red-faced hysteria and Kiki tried to mimic his easy smile a second later.

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

Kiki stared at the sidewalk and her stomach turned over like it wanted to empty out its contents. She sighed heavily and dropped down. There must have been a bicycle. It’s little body was severed in half and red guts spilled onto the hard concrete like squeezed jelly.

Every muscle in her body tensed and she crouched lower to try and cradle the little flailing head. “You’ll regrow,” she whispered and couldn’t quite see right. “You’ll regrow, right?” She scooped up what she could of it’s broken body and placed it gently in the grass, but it had stopped moving.

The sun beat high on her brow and no one called to her when she walked into the schoolyard - they never did anymore after Kiki became Kiki in a way they didn’t like. She slipped inside on her ghost feet with her expressionless ghost face. She went to the bathroom where none of the other girl’s congregated and washed her hands five times in a row.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered to her reflection. “I’m so so sorry.” The tears didn’t come, they rarely did, but she tugged on her fingers cruelly until each one of them popped and ached and her joints flushed an angry red.

A grey like wet paint covered her insides and she cracked her fingers again and again even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore.

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

“Hey, Kiki!” Mr. Nathan, her 11th grade English teacher addressed her that morning. He was in his thirties, well-spoken and well-shaven. She turned to him as class was dismissed. “Can you stay after class for a sec?” He said “sec” in the same way you say “tic-tac”, or like he typed out “lol” in official school emails. Kiki took her time creeping toward him and kept her mouth shut in a firm line. “I’ll get the paper to you soon, promise.” She was lying. The paper was two weeks late and she hadn’t even started it or thought about starting it.

“That’s not it,” he waved a hand through the air carelessly. He winked. “When you turn it in, I know it’ll be stellar.” She didn’t return his wide blinding smile and instead looked down at the Star Trek figurines he kept on his desk in a little troupe. Uhura was facing the wall. “But uh, Kiki?” She snapped back to attention and remembered what her mom had said before she left for work the other day: “Make an effort Kiki.” Sighing, she had turned and left without looking back.

Kiki made an effort and tried to meet his eyes, “Yes?” “How are you doing?” He asked, slowly.

Oh. Kiki thought to herself. Someone had noticed.

“You haven’t really been… speaking up in class.” His expression tightened.

She shrugged. “I haven’t got anything to say.”

“Are the other kids...” he looked her over. “Are they being nice?” That almost made Kiki smile. Almost. “They’re fine.” She said honestly, flatly. “I’m just… tired.” She felt the tiredness in the same way soldiers felt for their guns in enemy territory: you carried it close to you and checked it often.

“Well,” he sighed. “Get some sleep. You’re a sharp kid.” That was much closer to making her smile than anything else. “Thanks Mr. Nathan.” She turned to leave, going to sit alone at lunch and skim through her phone without really looking at it.

“Of course,” he called after her and Kiki wished things were different. “I’m always here for you.”

Kiki slipped out the door and thought about a different Kiki: a Kiki who knew what to say to that and had already started her paper and didn’t make her own hands hurt. Instead, the second the door closed it felt like all of her weight fell into her shoes and The Tiredness pulled out the final Jenga block and sank her battleships and took her queen and shouted “uno!” at the top of it’s lungs. Maybe he cared, but he didn’t know her.

She imagined staring up Mr. Nathan in the way the worms looked up at her. She swept them up from the sidewalk knowing they’d be back there again next week. Didn’t he know? It didn’t matter.

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

“What’s the point?” Kiki murmured as she leaned against the door of her family's apartment.

Her mom and dad sat across from each other but the entire tundra spread out between their arms and feet. Maybe things would be different if they weren’t so stubborn or so similar and then their wedding rings wouldn’t gleam like badges of resentment and endurance. A challenge to the other to take it off.

“Kiki,” her dad said slowly, and they both knew he would take the lead. “You have to go to school.” She stared down at her feet and noticed how long her toe nails had gotten and how much crud had worked its way under the corners and she didn’t say anything.

“Look at your father Kiki,” her mother snapped and unfolded her arms. “Look at him, we’re trying to talk to you about something important.”

Kiki didn’t look up and she didn’t breath and the grayness spread like a spill on the floor that rotted the wood and wrecked the foundations of a house. The type where you walked in one morning and the boiler had crashed through into the basement and the wallpaper had peeled back to reveal sheets of mold that had always been there.

And all the floorboards had water damage.

“Kiki…” Soft.

“Kiki!” Hard.

Kiki turned toward the door and her mother flew to her feet and stomped over to her like she was breaking wine glasses at weddings all over again. “Look at me, you can’t keep doing this!” She grabbed Kiki’s wrist, hard.

“I’m looking at you!” Kiki screeched. Her throat throbbed and she spat, but she wasn’t looking at her. And then she was turning and fiercely brushing her mom off and the tiredness broke through to the grayness which broke through to an ugly ocean that swallowed and gushed and broke across her spine into pieces.

She shoved her feet into her shoes by the door. How did it end up like this? She wondered as she watched her gnarled toes disappear into her loafers.

She streaked out the door with her parents wailing like alley cats after her. But she was faster, and it was too late. It had been for awhile.

She streaked out onto the wet pavement outside where the world of Chicago was drying and streaming and billowing onward. She walked and walked and walked. It ached but not in a way that mattered.

She was on a bridge when she stopped; it was a high and concrete pedestrian passageway where bikers streaked by and homeless people sometimes collapsed. She was still wearing dirty pajama pants and a sports bra that rubbed at the place under her armpits wrong.

Underneath, cars drove by with their brights on and rainbows and halos and spotted disco lights in their headlights that reflected off puddles and blinded oncoming traffic. The humming sound of wheels on pavement filled her head. 

Kiki stared down and clenched her teeth so tight it felt like she had too many. She breathed like there weren’t enough breaths in the world for her to suck down. Narrowing her eyes, she honed in on something down below.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed at a thin tendril of a worm on the ground in the middle of the bridge. “There’s not even any grass around here!” She wasn’t sure how loud she was being, but a woman walking her fluffy white dog gave her a wide berth as she passed.

“What are you doing?!” Her throat hurt. She was tired and she knelt down to the ground. “I can’t help you. There’s no grass here.” She closed her eyes and when she opened them again she realized she was yelling at a lost hairband and there was no worm. And she still couldn’t help it.

Kiki was tired of being tired and slipping through the cracks that everyone else simply crossed with ease.

She stood up, turned toward the edge of the bridge, and stiffly walked over. She imagined leaves in the wind being carried away by the ends of their stems, being flung left and right in the breeze in ways birds would never know.

She thought and thought about those leaves as she climbed over the barrier between the bridge and the road down below.

Kiki closed her eyes and clung to the edge of the railing with her fingertips as the cars zoomed by with people inside living their lives, carrying on. Maybe they were thinking about how the radio announcer had a squeaky voice or how their mom’s never called on Valentine's Day anymore or how the earth was heating up and the little nubs of the world were drowning in the oncoming ocean tides.

Maybe they were speeding and thinking about sex with their boss or the stain on their suit jacket.

Maybe they could look people in the eye when they talked and their English teacher didn’t stop them in the hall and the kids at school didn’t ask why they never talked. Or laughed. Or smiled.

And maybe their parents loved each other and they didn’t breathe through their skin like worms on the sidewalk that would never make it to grass again.

“What are you doing?” 

Kiki let go of the edge. And she flew away like an autumn leaf caught in the harvest moon wind and sailed through the sky with her stem steering her left and right and flailing in boundless circles. And maybe she didn’t.

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

Kiki was crying and it felt like she had been crying for days now. Her body ached and the hospital smelled like chemicals and human taint: the guts and bad breath and bloody dark coppery bits.

They let her walk outside sometimes and sometimes she even wanted to after doctor Reyes told her that she was brave. And good. And going to make it (somehow, somehow).

The woman with the white dog had dragged Kiki back from the edge that day and forced her to the nearest emergency room where they asked her The Questions. Did she want to die? No, not really. Did she have a plan to hurt herself? No, not exactly. How long had she had these thoughts? Awhile.

She asked them a question of her own: I’m tired. Does it ever end? When does it end.

It doesn’t. At least, not the way she thought it would.

It was Sunday now. She turned toward the patches of grass in the hospital courtyard and stared at the criss-crossing sidewalks until she saw it: a worm. Round and fat and pink as you please. Lying on the rough concrete so it could breath again - and get stepped on or dried-out or eaten like a useless, ugly thing.

She sighed. “What’s the point?” She murmured because she was still trying to speak more and express more. “You’ll just do this again. And again.” She thought about what the doctor said and about how much her parents cried when she told them about the grayness on her insides. And she thought about the get-well cards from her classmates that would just end up in the trash or under her bed somewhere, but they sent anyway and maybe she cried about that too.

She made her way toward the worm on the sidewalk. She picked up it’s wiggling, slick body between her pinched fingertips and she put it on the grass and gave the faintest of smiles.

And it wiggled and squirmed on the long curls of grass among the shiny droplets of water and Kiki stood up to go find another one. And another. And another. Giving them the chance to do this all over again the next time it rained.

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

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[pandawritespoorly]

A Shy ‘Sparrow’: Chapter 2 - The First Amok

Author’s Note: It returns! At long last! I've sorted out what was making me not want to write, so I'm happy to report I'll be writing more than I have been (though that doesn't mean this is going to be updating as regularly as With Time though).

Chapter Summary: Marinette makes her first Amok.

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“There have been three akumas! Three! And you haven’t even transformed! Peacocks are meant to be seen!” Duusu looks at the girl slumped back in her desk chair. Not a true peacock, but still! Where is her pep?! Has she no spirit?!

“I’m not a peacock, Duusu,” she speaks with resigned acceptance, continuing to work on her homework and not even bothering to look towards her stunning Kwami.

“A peahen then! You can still puff your feathers! I refuse to let you continue to hide like some treecreeper!-”

“A what?”

“Go out there and let Paris know that you’re here and you’re the best bird there is!”

“But I don’t know how to help. I’d just get in the way. Chat Noir will be fine alone.”

“But he could be fantastic! Any situation can be better if you add a beautiful star to it! If you want to help, then use your powers!”

“I don’t know…”

“Well I do! Just create an amok and use it on someone! Come on! Let’s go!” Duusu rushes toward the brooch, staring at Marinette expectantly, “Well?! Spread your feathers!”

Marinette bites her lip in uncertainty, hesitating before she speaks the phrase. She feels the magic wash over her, and she can’t help but smile softly. Then she remembers her task.

She doesn’t know how to do this!

But… it’s night. No one is out, there’s no one watching. She can go out there and practice and even if she messes up, she would have tried.

That’s all Duusu is asking of her anyways.

Alright. She can do this.

The peahen heroine races across the rooftops until she finds one that seems mostly hidden. She’ll be safe here.

Sitting against a wall, she looks at her hands pondering how she’s supposed to do this.

“Alright Marinette. It’s fine. You can do this.” she breathes softly to steady her nerves. Focusing, she closes her eyes and concentrates on… something. She isn’t sure quite what it is.

A soft white feather appears in her open palms. She inspects it in surprise.

She did it! She did it!

Sort of? Next she… what does she do?

Alright, um…

She holds the feather, closing her eyes and focusing on it. She feels something stir in her, and when she opens her eyes the feather is blue.

She puts it to her brooch, still not sure if she’s done it right. Once the feather comes in contact with the miraculous she feels it. The power.

What kind of power does she want to choose? How does she even choose? She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

She exhales softly and focuses once more on her goal. To fix the damage made by akumas. Heal the city.

A large crane appears before her. It seems to be waiting for her to say something, so she pats its head awkwardly, “Uh. Go do your thing I guess?”

It nods, raising its wings and taking flight, glittery feathers fall from it as it goes, and each thing the feathers touch glows softly before it is seemingly fixed - at least that’s what it looks like.

So focused on the sentimonster, she doesn’t hear the soft footfall of someone landing on the roof.

“Who are you?”

Normally Chat wouldn’t give up the element of surprise, but he doesn’t think this is an akuma. He’d seen this person during an attack, and they’re still here so they must be separate from that at the very least. Plagg had mentioned the possibility of a partner, but didn’t seem to think this person was them so Chat keeps his guard up.

The masked stranger wheels around in surprise, but doesn’t speak. They seem to begin shaking slightly, frozen in place.

Chat Noir raises his baton, ready to attack or defend based on their actions. They do neither, instead, once they recover from the shock, they turn and jump off the roof. They float to the next building and continue in this manner, running away.

He gives chase. He wants answers, and simply running won’t work. Where did that bird come from and is it a threat? Who are they and what do they want? Whose side are they on?

He is beginning to catch up when he hears a loud rattling call. The large bird from earlier is fast approaching him, feathers falling. Sneezing, he takes a moment to recover. The bird seems satisfied with its attack and returns to whatever it had been doing.

Oh well, it could have been worse. Now he has to get back to-

The person in brown is gone.

---

“Well! As much as I want to reiterate that peacocks do not run, I will instead be my gracious self and congratulate yourself on your first amok! I’m so proud! A crane, so fitting-!” Duusu flutters all over the room, chattering away. “What?” Marinette is still calming down from the adrenaline of being chased.

“-Not as prestigious as us peafowls, but a bird symbolizing healing nonetheless and seeing as that was your goal - oh and I’m so excited! You’re a creative one- it’s the bug in you - so your sentimonsters will be fantastic! Oh this is so fun! I should borrow Tikki’s kids more often! Yay!”

Marinette is content to listen to the rambling, but the mention of a name piques her curiosity, “Tikki? Who’s that?”

“She’s the Ladybug Kwami. You’re definitely one of hers, but seeing as she’s not here, I have so graciously taken you in - under my wing you could say - and so now you will be the most glamorous bug to ever exist because with me at your side how could you not be!”

“I’m still not sure if I should be doing this,” the designer frowns, “Chat Noir didn’t seem too happy to see me.”

“You’re right! That was very rude of him! Peacocks should be respected and revered, not chased! I should really talk to Plagg!”

Marinette sighs, staring into her lap.

Duusu settles onto her open palms, smiling encouragingly up at the girl, “Hey, it’s okay. Not all of my peachicks had an easy start. Sometimes the world isn’t ready for your fabulousness. If you aren’t comfortable being out in the open, you can still help from the sidelines,” it’s not what she prefers, but she needs to be gentle with this one.

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive!” Duusu chirps, “Next attack, try making an amok to help during the attack. You can take your time with this!”

“Alright,” Marinette relents, “Alright, I’ll try.”

---

Marinette arrives at school at a pretty reasonable time. She’d been woken up a little early by her amok. Duusu had helped her take care of it - having it out 24/7 would drain on her, so they agreed she’d bring it around only after attacks.

“Hey, girl! Did you see the news?” Alya runs up to her, excited. She’s got that glint in her eye that shows up whenever she has information on Chat Noir, or just the whole Hawkmoth mess in general.

“What news?” Had Hawkmoth done something?

“Someone got footage of this giant bird fixing the city! No one knows where it came from, but people are theorizing that Chat Noir finally got a partner!” Alya is this close to squealing. Another hero!

“What’s this about Chat Noir getting a partner?” Adrien asks as he and Nino join the girls.

“Yeah, that dude really deserves some help.”

“A giant bird fixed the city last night! All the damage from all the attacks!” Alya pulls up a video, spinning her phone around so they can see.

“Huh,” Adrien says, “What do you think it means?”

“Clearly it means Chat got the partner he deserves! He- OH MY GOSH, WAIT!” Something occurs to Alya, and she fiddles with her phone, “At an akuma attack a while ago, I saw someone else watching the attack, and, and - get this - they were bird themed! These have to be connected!”

She shows them a shaky image of a brown figure on a rooftop some distance away. It isn’t the best quality, but they can all see some resemblance to a bird. Marinette winces, she hadn’t planned on Alya taking a picture of her.

“Dude! That makes sense!” Nino agrees.

“I don’t know,” Adrien is hesitant, “I’d like for Chat Noir to have a partner as much as the next guy, but…”

“...we don’t know anything about her. She could have no idea what she’s doing - that could put Paris at risk,” Marinette finishes.

“Why do ya’ think they’re a ‘she’?” Nino questions.

Marinette stiffens, “Uh, well, I, um- I just- I don’t really know! I just, uh, used the first pronouns I thought of? There’s no way to tell! Obviously!”

Alya seems to accept that, as does Nino. Adrien gives her an odd look, but seems more amused by her stammering than anything. 

Alya puts an arm around her shoulder, “Well, I guess we can only theorize for now! I’m sure we’ll find out eventually.”

“Mhm.”

---

Later that day, in the middle of sketching out a new design, Marinette’s phone dings with an akuma alert. Duusu notices and looks at her excitedly.

Marinette sighs, “Okay. Okay. Spread my feathers.”

The peahen heroine stands in her room, taking a moment to steady herself before she goes to the roof.

She heads in the direction of the attack, doing her best to stay out of sight. When she arrives, she sees Chat Noir already in a battle against… a Persian?

She pulls up the news on her fan, because she honestly doesn’t know what this one’s deal is.

Before she can, the big cat growls, “That wanna-be evolution will never replace Persian! Perrserker is a disgusting abomination!”

“Look, I’m as upset as you are, but-” Chat Noir tries to settle the victim, to no avail. A giant paw swipes at him, and he dodges.

“Okay. So, um. Help Chat Noir, uhhh how do I do that?” The heroine presses her hands to her face, trying to think of how an amok could help out here.

---

Chat Noir wasn’t expecting to deal with a giant pokemon today.

Then again, everyday is a dice toss with Hawkmoth around. Just another normal day in Paris.

That said, he’d been working under the assumption that he’d only have to deal with one giant pokemon. So when the pokemon that led to this akumatization in the first place (Perrserker, he likes the pun, but purr-furs the classics), showed up he wasn’t sure what to think. Persian immediately notices, growling turning to it.

“You! You little-!” Persian immediately forgets about the hero, turning to the other pokemon.

Chat shakes off his surprise, immediately going to the akumatized object - a red ribbon around the cat’s neck. Cataclysming the akuma, he turns to the second pokemon.

It waves at him, disappearing. He frowns, running to where it had been standing.

All that’s there is a small white feather, and a pebble.

---

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed this update! Thanks for being so patient, I didn't intend for it to take this long. ❤️

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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